Bane & Thunder

A Tale In The World Of Ur-Earth

The woman was crying hysterically in the town square. “Help, the druids have taken by children! My son and daughter will be killed!” she cried aloud, begging the sturdy town men to form a mob and go after them. 

“Woman they are already dead!” shouted a gruff older man, who had started to drink his beer, bitter that no one helped him when the druids took his son months ago. 

No one heard her cries for help, even her husband remained at the workshop, hammering away his frustrations on forging horse shoes and nails. Giving up was too painful for her heart, yet she didn’t have the courage to risk going out in that cruel world, outside their patches of civilization. 

“Please…I don’t want my children to die…” she pleaded, placing her teary face into her hands. “Please God…save my children.”
Ears heard her plea, that struggled under oiled back hair, that hid their elfan shape. Seated at a nearby bench, drinking slowly his mug of ginger beer, he listened to the blight of the woman. Unable to listen anymore, he put a penny on the table for the beer, and went to her, his height made him tower over all the other men in town. With a painted face, he looked as if he were part of a circus. 

“Goodwife, I have heard of your children's abduction.” the tall man spoke to her, she lifted her weepy face from her hands, and couldn’t clearly make out the man through her tears. “I volunteer to go and rescue you children, all I need to know is where the druids have taken them?” 

“Oh sir, if you truly mean as you say, then listen for their time is short, the druids come here from their homes in the north. Past the hills, they come here to abduct our children, to perform their blood rituals. Try asking for their movements in Diven, its a hamlet down that road—” she pointed to a dirt road going northeast. “—they would know better where they have taken the children.” 

Before she could praise him for his actions, he ran off down the road, his lengthy, limber legs carrying him as swiftly as if he were riding a horse. 

“Bless you kind sir!” the woman called after him, as he soon faded in the distance. 

***

Blood turned stiff in his veins, the drool of the salivating beast hissed from the shadows. Joie was locked away in a perpetual darkness, a glum abyss devoid of rhyme or reason. 

Crimson lights shone in the distance and it was clear if he didn’t surpass the beast's fearsome riddles of violence, he'd cease to exist. 

Dark parables of mystic druidisms wavered about the air, the Manticore was abound. Fresh for the kill, fangs still drenched from its most recent prey. Devouring man flesh, drinking gallons of blood, no matter the food, no matter the amount this beast of Devour evolved to always hunger. 

Agonizing from the poison boiling in its veins, to the feeling of its guts burning from constant starvation, it was doomed not to die, but to live.

An eternity of a maddening existence, never knowing any tender feelings. 

‘Pitiful Beast.’ Joie contemplated, as he stared down those black eyes, with the sorrowful expression, and two rubies implanted within. 

Poking through the shadows, the feeling of a fearsome predator made the battle-axe in his hands writhe with excitement. The fiery, green weapon, Lovetaker, sizzled with a menacing hiss that seemed to intimidate the dower creature. 

“Get backed!” the harlequin face-painted Erlkin warned, as he approached the maine shrouded man-faced beast. Swirling his axe over his head, leaving flaming streaks of a bright emerald. 

Death sang a sad tune, as a wicked strike tried to attack from high above. With a deft strike, Lovetaker hacked off the tip of the Manticore’s scorpion tail. 

Shielding himself with his heavy cloak, the splatter of searing hot venom gushed from the severed appendage. Smells of putrid bitterness filled his nostrils. 

Watching as burn marks spread across his cloak, he had no choice but to discard it, undoing the latch around his neck, he flung the venom soaked cloak at the Manticore’s face. 

Twisted in pain, the body of the beast withdrew as it tore at the cloak on its face. Ripping it free, also tore melted strands of its face flesh. 

Fleshless, the face of the Manticore was deepened further into agony. Unable to tolerate further suffering than it already was enduring, the Manticore ran off into the shadows. 

A screeching cry filled the air, which grew more and more distant. Darkness that surrounded Joie had begun to dissipate. Leaving only the crimson lights that grew closer, till they enveloped Joie in their light.

***

Joie emerged on the other end of the Cave Of Drim, it was the only way through the maze-like Hills Of Awosh. 

The lair of the Beast Of Jerusalem seemed to be the more favorable risk, than navigating the complex of passages, tunnels, and ravines that make up the hills. Formerly the capital city of Zealont, it had collapsed due to natural disasters, war, and a plague that still hangs in the air. 

Joie only once tries to navigate it by the caves on the lower part of the hills. However despite his best efforts of navigation, he nearly starved trying to find his way out again. 

The walls and paths despite his markings changed, as if the whole place was a living entity. Only through the top most cave, at the near top of the hills was there a direct path through to the otherside. 

That was the den of the Manticore, a predatory, chimeric monster that Joie had been fortunate to trespass in its lair while it was away. 

  That time however, it was waiting for him in the darkness, stalking him, and despite his victory, Joie still had to contend with the Red Gate.

At the far end of black passage, an ever-present crimson light shines, seemingly always in the far distance, but once you approach it for some time, you find it is a relatively short trail. Approaching the light gives it shape and form, and as Joie stepped before it, he saw it in a recognizable state, a crimson, glass, door. 

Taller than the ceiling, and wider than the darkness could stretch, it was imposing in scale, and taunted him with its bizarre array of colors and patterns. Joie knew what it meant with its display, and recognized the sounds it made, the echoing, beeps and grinding strums. 

Within the red reflective surface he saw the images start to take more alien images that he didn’t know as well. 

“Error, why do you put me through this trial everytime I pass through here?” The question was ignored, as were his queries in the past. Nothing seemed to register on the Red Gate or even acknowledging he was speaking. 

Only the images, that spread and rotated around, in an ethereal space beyond its red surface. Touching it with his fingers, made the cool surface vibrate, images of runes unknown to him shone, and then flashed out of existence. 

“Error…Error…Error” the Red Gate spoke in a disembodied voice, lacking emotion and depth of feel. “Function…lack function…Is…rael!” Israel ceased to exist some time ago, the holy domain of God’s chosen was utterly destroyed in the Black Time. 

Chaos and deviltry had taken hold of Ur-Earth, casting everyone into a world bereft of the miracles of the previous eras. 

“Error, I must pass!” Joie commanded, as he had a reason for crossing the Cave Of Drim—to prevent utter catastrophe. 

Listening to rumors and inquiring townsfolk on his travels, he overheard some old men talking in a pub at night. 

“Aye, the red druids, those craven pagans, they cut the boy's throat, and collected his blood in a bucket. Yup, strung him up as if he were a pig, then I hear them speak of Pluto’s Obelisk, they’ll kill the children there I reckon. All for their devil Gods.” 

Hearing that, Joie immediately knew where to go, to find the druids before they could complete their blasphemous rituals. Such a pointless display of bloodletting would do nothing but murder innocent children, a sin Joie couldn’t allow to happen. 

Just on the other end of the cave was the Obelisk, and the time was coming close, he could feel it—but the Riddle Of The Red Gate perplexed him, as he merely guessed its solution before. However this time he was running against time, if he didn’t hurry, no one would be left to save, and he might not even be able to avenge their deaths. 

“Error! Open the gate!” he commanded, but Error let out a loud buzz that sounded as if a nest of wasps was disturbed. 

Slamming his elbow against the Red Gate, Joie swore in his Erlkin tongue, an elfan language that meant every terrible thing one can imagine, in a few short phrases. Unable to budge the gate, he reached into his holster at his back and pulled out Lovertaker, the green axe flared with excitement from being called upon so soon. 

A feeling of tendrils digging into the palms of his hands, sent a draining, slicing sensation from the tip of his fingers into his arms. 

“By Dative, I command you to open!” Just as he spoke his God's name, the gate shuddered, before Joie could put his axe to the glass, it split in two, and slid away, to either side, quickly disappearing into the shadows. 

“Error corrected…executive command accepted…”

What did he say to compel this sudden compliance? Was it the threat of his axe? No, it didn’t do that before…but once again he passed the test…though he wasn’t sure how. Holstering the axe, he felt his hand stick to the haft, as if they were stuck on with tree sap. With a painful yank he freed his hands, and went out through the newly opened passage out of the cave. 

Blue light, and a chilled wind blew in from there, and as he emerged on the other side, he saw a clear day, but with a sinister cloud of sorcery in the air. Thunder was booming in the sky, and lightning streaked the heavens, as if someone had ired the angels. 

Down below the hill, he saw the clearing, among the rocks and trees, the Obelisk, and surrounding them, the wicked druids, and a caravan of their still living blood sacrificed. In a hurry, he ran down the steep hillside, hoping he’d intervene in time. 

***

“All take positions, we must perform the rite now that the furies are in full rage!” commanded the head druid. His crown made of child bones, and the skull of an orphan turned a dark crimson as he poured the blood of their kills upon his head. 

Wearing a hood and cape of scarlet, his pale, yellow body was adorned with deep cuts and implants of metal to give him an almost unholy appearance of a demon. 

“SAH-MUTH-ARGO!” he cried as he rallied his druids to take positions around the obelisk, except for those meant to help him with the death ritual. They held the chains of the children, keeping them secure away from the stone stairs and dais that lay beneath the ancient obelisk. 

Among the ranks of the druids came a low, rhythmic chant, one that echoed their leader's cry, “Sah-Muth-Argo.” continuously they spoke it, as if trying to wound the air with their wounds. 

“Bring me the Dagger Spear!” The druid's command was heeded, and he was handed a dagger made with the blade of a jagged spear, darkened by holy blood of a slain messiah. “Bring me the first victim child!” a command was heeded, as a little girl was pried from her old brother’s arms. The boy was whipped bloody by the other druids, as the girl was carried away crying. 

Shaking with fear, the miserable lowborn girl was old enough to talk, but be afraid beyond thought at what was happening. The thunder grew louder, and lighting formed a glowing spider web in the sky, as the sun’s light seemed dim in comparison. 

Hell fury seems to have invaded their home, as mist rolled down the mountain tops, and surrounded the sacrificial area, making all without seem like dark shadows. Trying to get away in vain, the girl was taken to the bloodied stone table that was on top of the dais. 

The image of a lion was on the table, its eyes aflame with righteous anger, at the desecration to its holy monument. Such things the druids willfully ignored, as the child was brought to the table, and chained in place. Her dress was torn to expose her chest, as the head druid stood over her, singing his praises, and preparing to stab her in the chest with the dagger, to cause her innocent blood to stain the stone beneath her, in appeasement of their God.

“Oh glory to you, the Grand Red Wizard Nihillist, may this affliction upon the Lesser Gods, give you strength to be brought to us!” 

Poising the dagger, the head druid was bringing it down with a swiftness that made the girl's brother shudder and go mute, his eyes as were the eyes of the other children stinging with great pain. 

However the dagger did not strike the girl. 

There was an even swifter force working against the druid, one who brought down his weapon, slicing off the wicked hand, disarming the druid, who realizing his wound, shrank back. Giving out an agonized wail that he only heard from his sacrifices, he was a victim of the pain he’d easily put upon others. 

“Infidel!” the druid cried, as he searched for his severed hand, he put his followers upon Joie who had just freed the girl from her chains. With one slice of Lovetaker the chains were broken, and he carried the girl to the other children, as the druids chased after him, however they found the haze was too thick for him to be seen. 

However Joie could see, his keen Erlkin eyes saw the children in the haze, and their captors. Coming upon the druids in surprise, he brought down the axe upon them, in a swift, and sudden sentence of death. 

Destroying the pins that kept the chains on the ground, Joie took the leash and guided the children through the haze, as the druids wandered about in confusion. 

“Find them!” cried the head druid, as bled to death. “Find them! By Nihill—” however he never finished his words, he fell over dead from loss of blood, upon the stone tablet. His blood unknown to him aggravated the guardian of the Obelisk. Not just aggravate, but his tainted blood malformed the spirit who had long watched in helpless rage at the desecration and death of innocence. This and the magical agitates the druids used, had actually performed an enchantment that worked. 

Not like before where the fruitless bloodletting was for their own ego and sadism rather than to complete a possible task, they had unknowingly set upon themselves and the world. The Neméos Manticore, drawing forth from the Heavenly Realm, twisted by the evil in the air, was far larger than the one in the Cave Of Drim.

With crimson claws drenched in its own blood, eyes aglow with a fire burning in its brains, and claws that tore into the flesh of the confused druids. Tearing at their intestines, and biting their limbs, till it had consumed their hot, still writhing flesh, to be incinerated in its venomous stomach bile. 

Belching out bones and blood, the Neméos Manticore released a mournful cry, filling the air with its bombastic suffering. Agonized by its unsatisfied hunger, it caught the scent of supple flesh. Youthful blood made the abominable monster crazed with jealousy, how dare such tranquility exist in mortal form. 

Leaping off the stone table, it left blood stained tracks in its wake, as it followed the scent through the hate, and the rolling thunder in the skies above. 

***

Joie felt it, as soon as it materialized, a dreadful demon made flesh that he knew would be on their track. When it was done feasting on them, the terrible creation of magic gone wrong will bring utter ruin to the mortal world. Reducing kingdoms to ruin, a creature of Devour, manifested by wanton greed. 

Robbing life from others, to feed an unsatisfied furnace of bile and fire, that doesn’t even require it to survive. Cursing the stench it left in the air, and the unholy maelstrom that it formed in the atmosphere, Joie had little choice but to take the children in his charge into the abandoned fort of Caer Ambrøse.

A sealed up stronghold of alloy and stone, built by the Erlkin kingdom to expand their realm further from the heart of their domain. Standing above the jagged rocks, and steep ground as a gray pyramid, its only gate was sealed by Erlkin charms. 

Rushing the children to the gate, despite their whining and demands, he managed through whimsical guile, and stern implications to usher them to it, before giving them hurried instructions. 

“Stay in here till I come for you…if I do not, the oldest of you must lead the others east till you reach the Kingdom Of Tyre. Just follow where the sun rises, and you’ll find it.” He brought his hands to the cold metallic doors. Feeling a harsh prick as he placed his hand there. “Emases.” he spoke, and the gates slid open. 

Pointing for them to enter, the children were hesitant, till they heard the most frightening sound they’d ever hear in their lives. A guttural growl that shook the ground and their hearts came from the electrified mists that rolled into the rocky hill country. 

As soon as they saw those bright, crimson eyes, and that agonized, beastly face coming in sight, they all ran through the gate. Nearly trembling over others to get inside, as soon as the last one was pulled inside by her protective brother, Joie sealed it shut with his strength and enchanting phrases. 

Turning to the beast, he drew from his holster, Lovetaker, the axe thrummed in his grasp, and he felt the heat coming from it burn at his palms. 

“Vile evil, back to your hell!” he commanded, but this Manticore was larger, far more wicked, and sang a dreadful song of woe. “You wish death…but are too hateful to go passively…fine beast, die by Lovetaker, and go joyously through the marble jaws of the hereafter.” 

Charing at Joie, the monster was far larger than the last, and was smart enough to feint to one side, before trying to leap at his flank. Aiming from the far side of his axe arm, Joie saw the tension in the Manticore’s muscles tighten, as it leapt away, and tried to sting him with its scorpion tail. 

Unable to swing back with his axe, he used Lovetaker to deflect the strike, but the power in the beast's tail knocked his weapon to the ground. Rage filled, feeling the connection with his weapon suddenly severed, grabbed the barbed tail of the manticore, and with his rage bolstered strength, forced the curled stinger into the beast's neck. 

The coarse fur on its neck, shriveled as an injection of molten venom went into its veins, but despite being shot with its own corrosive poison it did not die. Still the flow of fire in its jugular vein gave Joie the chance to take Lovetaker, but doing so made his back open for a swipe of sharp claws to tear at his back. 

Blood flowed to the surface of his zig-zag wound, as the venom festered, and foamed over his rich, heavy blood. Sticking the butt of the axe into the eye of the Manticore, made it retreat, as its uninjured eye winced at the pain of its right eye. 

Swinging from the bloodied socket, the dislodged eye was drenched in bitter, green mucus. Dealing with its tail stuck in its neck, and the eye that dangled from its socket, the Manticore was too preoccupied with fixing these crippling discomforts, it passively allowed Joie to attack. 

Rising Lovetaker in the air, he let out a heinous, sanity erasing scream of malice, before he rushed against, and planted the crescent green blade into the beast’s human face. Not stopping with just slicing into its face, he kept pushing it, splitting its skull, and as it cried out, exploding a thunderous scream from its mouthless throat, Lovetaker had split the Manticore till it reached its front legs. 

Blood and acidic fluids sprayed on Joie, stinging his makeup covered face, and scorching his slick, oiled back hair, making it into a frayed mane. Pulling free the now inflamed Lovetaker, he stood over the collapsed body of the beast, that still twitched with life, and with emerald fire and glass-steel, hacked at the monster. 

Dismembering its flesh from bone, and sending strands of its organs all around, till all that remained was it hollowed out flesh and hair. 

“Damn you monster!” he cried as he went to the nearest rain puddle, and washed the burning monster fluids from his face and hands. 

After the ripples faded from the puddle, he looked at his reflection in the gray, cloudy daylight, and saw his true face. Looking back at him with a devilish, knowing look, he slapped the puddle, dissipating the reflection, then he reached into his pouch, slung about his waist, and pulled out his makeup kit. 

Hurriedly he painted on, red harlequin lips, and a pale white clown smear, and adored his face with many colorful designs. When he looked back into the puddle, he saw a face his own, Joie, the gentle wandering fool. 

Going to the pyramid gate, he placed his hand on it, and spoke “Emases” to free the children. As soon as the gate opened Joie was horror struck by what he saw within. 

***

Joie traveled for many days, nearly a week, delivering the children to their homes, and those without homes, to safe hands. Many of the children feared him, and left without giving him another look, but others showed tenderness and appreciation for his rescue. Though none of the adults trusted him, for his Erlkin ears, that now stick out from his bushy and wild hair. 

Joie understood their distrust, his people caused much of the evil, and from what he saw in the pyramid, what the children saw within, made him sick to be a part of that race. Deciding it would be a long time, he’d want to go northward, after dropping off the brother and sister, who were reluctant to let him leave their sight, he went south. 

For he had a task he placed on himself, to erase the guilt he saw within the pyramid. 

The druids were a sect of gullible fools, who rejected the teachings of the Church Of The Bloody Christ. Nihillist, and the other false gods of the Devour Trinity, have been using their children, the race they engineered, the Erlkin to lead mankind into ruin. 

Within the pyramid were screens of glass and metal, showing figments of the proposed future, where mankind, dwovekind, and all other races from the beastly Borth and cunning Nequ are reduced to slaves and cattle, to feed the Infernal Machine. 

All consuming for the sake of a never ending search for perfection, mortal races would be lessened and never able to evolve past their demeaning roles, for the sake of a rare few. 

Nihillist exists in Ur-Earth, the Red Wizard, the one whose action caused the Black Time, and the genocide of Goblins and Dwarves, and he must be destroyed. Joie didn’t know, but to find out he’d have to travel to a place he dreaded more than anywhere else in Ur-Earth, rather above Ur-Earth. 

The Castle On The Moon. 

How he’d to reach such a height he didn’t know, but he knew he had to try at the very least. As night deepend around  him, he looked up, and felt a knowing presence was above his head, watching him, calculating against his every efforts.