thyestean23

Ok this work is raw and unedited...so go easy on me. Yet, I wanted to get something out for people so I could get some feedback. Thought SG might be a good place to start. Hope you enjoy.


A sharp throbbing in his mind was the first thing that registered. It shot from the back of his skull, around is mind, and jabbed repeatedly into his eyes. The unrelenting pulse soon caused the muscles in his face to twitch and spasm. He could feel something crack and ooze from the right side of his face. The tremors spread into steady waves of motion that began to reach for his neck. He swallowed for the first time, the tissue in his throat dry and course. He nearly choked as he took his first breathe. His head was a massive weight that buried his chin into a bare chest. The awakening continued to spread as did the tearing pain. He felt like he was submerged in a pool of white hot needles that pricked him deeply at every conceivable point. His jaw clinched so intensely he thought his teeth would shatter as full body spasms waved over him. When the spasms finally stopped it left him drained and barely conscience, yet still alive.

Numbed beyond motion his mind wandered in a mist of confused thought and throbbing pain. What? Words where beyond his function, sight completely failed him, his ears were witness to no sound and pain was the only sensation he could comprehend. His body did not respond to any command and he began to panic at not being able to even left his head to breath. Air slid through his throat in labored hisses that barely filled his lungs. There was nothing he could do to pull in more.

Retreating into his mind he groped for some shelter from his state. The fear rushed in all around him, bearing down on his mind with torrential force. Unable to perceive the world around him he desperately fought to recall anything at all, but a black cloud of confusion was all that greeted him. It was the worst sort of torture to be trapped inside of your own dying body. His mind began to swirl against itself. He felt as though he were spinning. Helpless and terrified the grip of the unknown overwhelmed him then faded to black yet again.

A compulsive heaving in his torso tore him back to consciousness. For the first time sound was distinguishable for each time his body convulsed the sound of grinding metal echoed in the air along with the thrusts of fluid. The burning hot liquid poured down his chest and interrupted his challenged breathing. Several times he choked, adding to the convulsions and increasing the sound of grinding metal from above him. Desperate to clear his breathing he fought with an inhuman might to lift his head, but was only able to keep his chin level for a moment while drawing in all the breath he could. Then his neck gave way to the weight again and his chin dropped to his chest. The foul stench of his own bile filled his mouth and nose. Another wave of spasms attacked his body, but not like before. As another brutal revelation his sense of touch revealed a bitter cold that reached to his very bones. In a pitiful attempt to generate heat his body shivered uncontrollably.

Again he dug into his own mind to find anything that would give him even the slightest grip on reality. As his senses returned his mind began to become overwhelmed with information. Still unable to see he focused on his hearing and sense of touch as best as his weakened state would allow. Yet, the information was far too intense and impossible to decipher. Metalgrinding, echoingmy hands.shoulders. Agonizing pain whitewashed his thoughts and the shivering repeatedly shattered his concentration. His efforts drained his strength in a brutal manner until his thoughts were so jumbled and incoherent that he loss consciousness.

He awoke again in a thick fog of awareness. A great deal of time had passed and he was numb now, almost disconnected to the suffering of his body. The rhythmic squeaking and grinding of the metal above him was a mocking reminder of his situation and how little he understood of it. His hands, wrists and shoulders burned intensely and he winced in acknowledgement. The rest of his body was stiff and mostly unresponsive. His breathing was less labored but the wrenching pain of each inhaling breath was now far too apparent. Hes thoughts moved more freely now and it only took a moment to gather what his body had been pleading to him all along. He was suspended, his arms bound above him. He weakly fingered the thick chain that mercilessly gripped his wrists above him. He was moving, swaying. The sound of the grinding metal answered his shifting weight.

The realization of his predicament quicken his pulse and caused his mind to race. He feared opening his eyes, not sure he could handle knowing anymore of his fate. Rather than do so he continued to consult the remainder of his instincts. He was suspended freely with nothing near him, that was easy enough. The long angle of his swaying told him the chain was quite long. His motion was the result of his convulsions, most likely. The air was still and ice cold. The sound of the metal was sharp and echoed bluntly all around him. Im inside of something Slowly he pried his eyes apart. They felt dry and rough as though they had been closed for years. Dim light stabbed his mind and his head throbbed in pulses again. He fought the urge to close them and grimaced in his effort. Blurred shades of black and grey slowly formed into view. Directly in front of him was a wall of black stone slick with moisture that a dim light from above glinted off of. He quickly understood that gripping them would be impossible. With a small twisting maneuver he rotated himself on the chain for a panoramic of his plight. He was in a rectangular pit of blackened stone the bottom of which disappeared in the darkness giving it a bottomless feel. The pit smelled of smoke and rotting flesh. Examining the walls it became clear a fire once raged in this pit and blackened the stone walls. His only attire was a pair of leather breeches that looked to be charred and badly worn. Yet, his bare feet showed no sign of injury.

For a moment he swung in small spiral with only the continual sound of grinding metal to accompany his thoughts. With his arms and shoulders fully extended by his weight he was unable to view the chain itself. As he hung he gauged the pain, wondering what the cost of motion would be. Finally he committed, tensing his arms and parting his shoulders allowing him to crane back his head to view directly above. It was the first motion he had ever made as far as he could remember and the pain that tore through his shoulders and back was intense. He heaved heavily until the pain past allowing him to focus his view.

His skin at his wrists was badly torn from the rusted chain and streams of dried, blackened blood ran the distance of his arms. The chain extended above him more than twenty feet where it was wrapped around the center of an iron grate that capped the pit he was in. Both the chain and the iron grate appeared to be quite ancient. Rust particles passed through thin beams of pale light like black glitter from above. Clearing his mind he focused intently on the chain and iron, understanding that, if nothing else, the iron grate was held in place by his weight combined with that of the chain. The walls were slick with no foot holds and roughly twenty feet apart. Below was a drop of a least thirty feet, though with the failing light it could be much further. Beyond the grate was a dark haze, he could discern nothing past it. The light that snuck in through the iron barrier had a bluish tone and flowed from one general direction. It did not flicker or fain making it, most likely, that of the moon filtering through something. The air was still and betrayed no sound beyond the now faint squeaking of the iron and chain. Not even wind could be heard, robbing him of the knowledge of whether he was in or out of doors. His mind again began to fade as he observed the mouth of the pit. The pain had become bearable somehow, yet fatigue tugged heavily on his eyes. After some resistance he tucked his head between his shoulders and gave way to sleep.

He awoke to find himself bathed in the orange glow of a mid-day sun that illuminated his surroundings in stark detail confirming his conclusion from the night before. Again he lifted himself and tilted back his head to view the iron grate above. Several flies darted around his head and he did his best to shake them. Slowly and tactfully his mind began to assemble his awareness. Beyond the grate was a clear blue sky, the first welcoming sight of the ordeal. He studied the grate and chain with intense detail while listening closely for any sound from above. He considered whether his weight alone held it in place or whether it was braced in some manner. How much could it weigh and could he move it? If so, how? He doubted there was any sort of guard or anything watching him, though there was no way to be sure. Regardless, he knew he had to reach the grate in order to answer any of his questions. A feat his body wasnt prepared to accomplish. His circumstance was pure madness. He could remember nothing prior to his awakening as if his mind had been totally erased. Even his own name escaped him. Whatever or whoever put me here intended for me to die here. There is no question I should be dead. As he considered this he could feel the pain of his breathing had eased slightly. His arms and wrist seemed to burn less and less with each passing hour. No one could survive this crucifixion.how is it I am still alive? Where are my executioners? How the hell am I to get out of this?

For many hours more he hung watching the sun pass and darkness veil the sky. Eventually the tiniest scraps of memory came to him. He was a criminal, a thief. His crimes had been many and regret filled him. Few, if anyone, would be inclined to help him. He had indeed be sent here to die as punishment for his actions. There was a battle that occurred after he was put here. The memory of the sound of clashing metal and the screams of men became vivid again. There had also been sounds he could not identify then or now. The sound of something monstrous and inhuman. He new there must have been hundreds of these things, even thousands. The silence from beyond the pit now created a grave concern within him. That had been some time ago, much longer than any man should have been able to survive in an execution pit. He thought himself to be of no significant strength and struggled to understand how he could still breath. Hunger and thirst began to bare down on him draining his mind. Though he took his bodys rumblings as a good sign. Again night come and fatigue pulled his eyes shut. This time he gave in and slipped into sleep.

When morning came he again maneuvered his head to the world above. The sun was a dim white ball behind a curtain of puffy grey clouds. All of it was framed by the iron grate creating a gothic window. If he had dreamed he did not recall it and returned to the task of collecting his memories, but could reveal nothing new. Ignoring his hunger pains and calling thirst he focused his thoughts on escape. As his mind turned disbelief washed over him. His condition seemed to improve. Confusion set in as he began to doubt what is body was telling him. He hung motionless waiting for pain to return, but it didnt come. He tensed his arms again and lifted himself slightly expecting the same rush of agony as before. Yet, it never came. In fact the motion seemed easier than it should have been. As the pain continued to fade he tested his breathing taking ever deepening breaths searching for the pain, but it was no where to be found. He went limp in total amazement. Nothing made sense. Next he tested his legs by pulling his knees to his chest which he did with stiffness, but no pain or resistance. He continued the motion a few times more, partly out of shear disbelief and to shake the stiffness away. Above he felt only discomfort in his wrists and shoulders. The agony inflicted by the chain was gone. It even appeared the wounds had begun to close. A confident excitement rushed through him and he nearly began to swing to further test his body, but thought better of it. What awaited him outside of the pit was still in question.

He started by focusing on the chain at his wrists. He considered the binds for a moment then began to push his right arm up hoping to extend through the chain and bring it to his forearm, providing a chance at a grip on it. He made no noticeable progress and began to pull down in counter to the resistance. Again no progress. Rust rained down as he moved and the groaning of the iron began again. He started applying his efforts to the left arm when he heard an odd shuffling beyond the mouth of the pit. The sound of something sifting through gravel echoed into the pit followed by a large clash of metal. A sort of sinister snickering accompanied the racket as it seemed to move closer and then stopped without warning. He held himself frozen, barely breathing as he listened and watched the iron grate. Then, without any warning, something popped into view. It was small with a little, round head and slender, long, disproportionate ears. The tiny silhouette remained motionless for a moment and so did he. Then, as suddenly as it had arrived, it shot onto the grate and down the chain until it was only inches from his hands. The speed with which it moved was shocking and he didnt move or breathe. An angry, red face with a long hooked nose sniffed before him like a tiny blood hound. Its eyes were like two pearls pressed into deep, wrinkled sockets. On one of the long ears there was a small triangle of flesh missing. The other had a golden ring in the same location. When the sniffing stopped it twitched a few times then displayed two wide rows of razor sharp, metallic teeth. He was unsure whether it was a smile or a threat. Not dead..not alive. Its voice had the oddest tone, like a hissing growl from something trying to be bigger than it was.

I am quite alive!, He stated simply. No sooner than the words were spoken the creature backpedaled up the chain more than have the distance. Its ears pointed back as if to attack. As it hung it occurred to him that this little red devil was a gremlin. A rare creature of lore. Something most didnt believe existed. Looking at its small white eyes he also realized it was blind. Regardless, this thing was the only chance he might have at escape and wasted no time. Can you get me out of here?

The gremlins crimson ears twitched rapidly and its long eyebrows angled sharply. Why should it? ,it hissed.

Why should it not? ,he countered.

Lines deepened in its oval face. The not dead bargains poorly.

What is it you want?

IT wants. the creature corrected.

He tried to veil his frustration. Fine. What does IT want?

What does not dead have? I smell nothing of value. The gremlins tone was distrustful and guttural. As it spoke it slowly began to back up the chain, still in its crouched position.

Wait. If I agree to help you find something of value will you help me out of here?

It stopped, ears twitching. The not dead swears to it?

Yes.

It seemed to examine him for a moment, though he knew it couldnt actually see him. Then it scurried down the chain toward him with its head tilted to one side. Baring its silver teeth it began to bite through the iron chain around his wrists. For a moment he feared it would tear into him as well. He barely had time to grab onto the chain as it gave way. By the time he stabilized himself and looked up again the gremlin was on top of the grate looking down. Climb not dead. It commanded, then moved out of sight.

Hand over hand he thrusted himself toward the iron grate. The ease of the task was encouraging and the idea of freedom filled him with vigor to move ever faster. Once he reached the top he grabbed onto the grate and released the chain. As he did so the gremlin moved around to one side and began chewing again. A loud metallic snap rung through the air and the gremlin motioned him over with a clawed, three fingered hand. Pull back not dead and you shall be free. He swung, rung by rung to the wall over which the gremlin was and braced his feet against it. Then, changing his hand position, he attempted to pull the iron grate away from the wall. It moved only a few inches and the gremlin snickered. He starred at It with a tightened face and yanked hard on the iron grate sliding it a full two feet. Then, clinging to the top of the pit wall, he began to pull himself to freedom. As he emerged fully from the pit the gremlin darted away giving him a comfortable distance.

He stood rubbing away the soreness from his wrists when the shock of the scene before him anchored his feet in place. He stood in the center of the execution field surrounded by total carnage on an epic scale. The torn and shattered bodies of man and mount were piled and scattered in every direction. Swords, shields, spears and chariots jutted up from the ocean of destruction. Plumes of black smoke rose to the sky in random locations. As the crosswinds picked up the foul stench of death filled his nostrils and forced him to his knees. A short distance away he saw the literal pinnacle of this heinous crime. Drawn to it he rose and began to take long, labored steps in its direction. He stumbled occasionally, dizzy from this overwhelming vision. Though sick and light headed he continued towards it unable to resist its call. Before him was a mountain of bodies. Men, women and children all stacked and tangled on top of the other in a grotesque pyramid of death. Many of their faces were frozen in terror, expressing in detail what he could not find the words to say. As he reached it the clouds above breached and a single beam of light reached down to the site, illuminating it and turning the sight grossly surreal. At the summit of this display was a massive, black battle standard that slowly flapped in the wind like black smoke. Its symbol was that of three human skulls overlaid by a red broadsword. After a moment he ran out of words to swear and curses to utter. Only the shuttering amazement remained. The time and effort required to hoist and arrange so many bodies. The complete lack of humanity required to even consider using children in such an act. The size of the battle standard was something no man could lift. Its shaft was the size of an oak tree and acted as the backbone of this monument of hate. It consumed him. Part of him even admired the audacity of the act. This was a force that knew no parallel, now or ever. It could not be bargained with, it could not be bribed. No amount of diplomacy would have saved the victims, for it was clear they had come with one singular purpose; death. Once their task was complete they, apparently, left no trace. There were none of the attackers among the fallen. Not even a weapon or shield, just the battle standard remained. He turned a startled head to the gremlin. Who or what did this?

Hunching its body to the ground the gremlin spoke in a foreboding hiss, The Demon Servant, Arakaun.