Merging With Sword Onto Them, Piercing Where They Might Part II

After beholding the shocking scenery, I felt the warriors' morale astoundingly decrease. The dreadful aspect of our formidable enemies hindered us from attacking; we simply stood facing them, cautiously scrutinizing their cruel eyes. One of them then released a shriek so ruthless that we all instantly and firmly protected our ears with our hands. Hearing of the creatures' shriek was drastically different from hearing them shriek. The incident made me doubt our chance in the battle; if the creatures could evoke so much agony by shrieking, then a physical confrontation with them would be much more horrendous. There were eight of us to six of them, but against a menace as terrible as the Olorundu warriors, that didn't matter at all.

Absolute silence lingered following the awful shriek for long, unending minutes. We were paralyzed by our own fear, but what ceased the Olorundu warriors from thrashing us remained a mystery; they broodingly stood facing us, eyeing us ferociously. The looming silence was then obliterated by the alarming sound of a hooting owl, which probably was significant for the Olorundu warriors, as they strode towards us. Before fear incapacitated our strong will, we unsheathed our honed swords and stood ready for the upcoming clash with the titans.

I lunged valiantly towards the closest of the Olorundu warriors and swung my sword to his right side. As I had expected, he was very cunning and effortlessly parried my futile blow with his own sword, sending my attacking arm away and making me open for attack. He tried to maim me, but I was also too fast for him, as I hastily crouched and sidestepped. It seemed that my evasion angered him beyond limits, because he uttered a dreadful shriek and assaulted me again. Still, he failed in crushing me, but he came closer this time and I was extremely lucky. Luck had saved me once, I thought, but it won't save me forever.

The fierce encounter continued. Momentum and adrenaline forcefully hazed my senses, and so I wasn't aware of my colleagues. The only thing I was aware of was my fear: the fear that the Olorundu warrior was going to triumph. I had taken several mighty blows and blood trickled and oozed endlessly out of my limbs. I had to change my plan, but I needed some time to think. Quickly and without further consideration, I jabbed at my enemy's chest and set of on a run back to the village. After my senses awoke, I beheld a morbid scenery that discouraged me and made me want to die: I didn't see my colleagues. I only witnessed six Olorundu warriors approaching, leaving seven mutilated cadavers behind them.

All was lost. Actually, we didn't expect to victor, but we hoped to slaughter at least one Olorundu warrior. But what I once deemed a difficult task was now an impossible one. A sour taste of regret overcame me as I anxiously waited for the six warriors to come and ravage me. Regret for my wasted life. Regret for my shameful failure. Seconds went by like meandering hours, and only contributed in increasing my nervousness. I then remembered the children. The children that I was sworn to defend. The children that I failed in protecting. As that thought brushed against my decaying mind, I felt tears flow out of my eyes, and got ready to slit my throat. If I were going to die, I would die by my own sword rather than the loathsome claws of the nasty Olorundu warrior.

But I never killed myself nor did the Olorundu warriors. Something uncanny occurred as I began to stab myself, but I don't remember the events because my vision was clouded by the vortex of contradicting emotions that battered me violently. All I recall was seeing a blinding golden radiance and hearing an angelic, melodic chant. Following this fast action, I beheld the Olorundu warriors' flesh disintegrating. Pleasure washed over my senses, but all my emotions faded away when I saw a celestial bridge unfold in front of me. The bridge was completely made of gold, but it was shabby and featureless. As I studied it, I heard the alluring chant again and saw a brilliantly radiating angel lingering joyfully at the other side of the bridge. I quickly sped towards the angel and joined him. As we ascended into the sky together, I beheld the remaining villagers as they merrily entombed the rotten flesh of the Olorundu warriors. Around them, the children I was sworn to protect danced as gleefully and happily as if the Olorundu warriors had never existed.

Merging With Sword Onto Them, Piercing Where They Might Part I

A piercing screech reverberated boisterously in the darkened forest, sending shrill echoes of atrocity into the gloomy, starless sky looming overhead. The screech was ominous and disheartening, for it signaled the depressing death of another one of us; the death of another man. Heaps of mutilated, burnt bodies occupied a grand space near the ragged gates of our humble village. With the passing of every moment, more blood of ours was shed, and the enemy closed in on us. Our remaining warriors were terribly discouraged, because they knew that demise was imminent; the fact that they were going to encounter the enemy horrified them. They knew that they barely had a chance against the mighty hordes of Olorundu.

As more time went by, we suffered more and more fatalities. Our grim messengers grievously fetched the desecrated carcasses of the fallen warriors, while priests wandered about, blessing the sick and comforting the sorrowful women who lost their sons in the ferocious battle. After we retreated into the village, all became silent, except for the occasional sobs of scared children. The silence was punishing and unbearable, yet it persisted and continued to torment those in the village, but it didn't really matter; most of the villagers realized that surviving the Olorundu warriors' assault was very difficult if not impossible. All that mattered was their dignity. They wanted to destroy the Olorundu warriors, or at least die trying and preserve their pride unscathed.

After the village's leaders quickly met, they decided to play their last card and send us - the elite force- to confront the fearsome Olorundu warriors. As I got ready to head out to the battlefield, anxiety dismayed me; the upcoming battle was truly terrifying. We, the elite force, were the village's last chance, and our failure in stopping the Olorundu warriors meant the village's evisceration. But then I looked at the mournful faces of women and heard the hopeless screams of children. Children who were unlucky enough to die young. Children who were never going to witness life's beauty. The mere sight encouraged me, and I felt a surge of vigor pump in my veins. I was going to do it for the children.

When we neared the ravaged gate, the dreadful grunts of the Olorundu warriors came into earshot. The sound didn't manage to scar our courage, for we knew that our cause was honorable. We then beckoned to the remaining guardians to unbar the rusty, metal gate. They instantly obeyed us and began to do their task. As the gate opened, fear again began to grip my heart. The fact that my death was certain was very daunting, for  challenging the Orolundu warriors was a very great burden. The other warriors accompanying me were also apprehensive as me. In order to strengthen their low morale, I raised my sword up in the air and bellowed a war cry so loud. The warriors joined me and vowed to fight with all their might.

Finally, after the gate was completely unfastened, we trudged into the dreary wilderness, and for the first time beheld the fearsome warriors of Orolundu. Terror reigned over me as I witnessed their wretched shapes, for despite having heard many tales of their wickedness, I never expected them to be this vile. Their bodies were identical to ours in shape, but they differed in color, for they had a scaly green skin. Their heads though were drastically different; they had heads exactly like those of lizards, but they were much larger. In addition to that, they had long, pointed tails and sharp claws on their lizard-like hands and feet. Their stature was immense too, as they towered over even the tallest of us. After witnessing the true forms of the Orolundu warriors, despair engulfed us all and diminished what remained of our already waning hope.

Into The Gaping Hole Part III

As I frantically lunged towards my escape rope, another massive explosion occurred and again it clouded my  senses; All I felt was tumbling down violently on a flat, hard surface, followed by a searing pain incinerating my back. My blood burnt with agony and only brought me fatal suffering. After arduous, excruciating minutes, light emanated from somewhere above me, so my senses became intact again, and to my revulsion, I beheld a sight I abhorred very much. Uncannily, the jewelry had completely vanished; now, I was in the midst of an irregularly-shaped cavern with a shabby lantern on one wall. The walls terrified me, for they were carved of human flesh: disgusting, ensanguined flesh, with slimy eyeballs gravely bulging out of it in a repulsive manner. They eyeballs loomed glumly, and the sheer sight of them terrorized me, so I fixed my gaze upon the stone floor, but that didn't end my dismay, because the smell of the subterranean cavity was sickening and smothering.

I drew upon what remained of my scarred courage and tried to discern the oddities of the cave, pondering how I got in it and how I can find a way out. A sour taste of despair restrained me from logically thinking, for all that came into my mind was speculations related to magic and esoteric teachings. Was it a time slip? Or was the blast strong enough to transport me into the earth's fathomless bowels? Nothing made sense, except regrets and laments. Sadly, it appeared that my greed had lead me to my demise. Just as I started to think of a solution again, a cacophonous shriek resonated and again perplexed my hearing. Following the shriek, I heard the eerie sound of steel ripping through flesh from a far corner of the cavern. Without a moment's thought, I turned to the direction of the sound, and beheld a horrendous scenery that made my heart tremble with fear: a wide cut had been made in the fleshy wall, and out of it crept two creatures so gruesome and bizarre.

The creatures resembled devil-like men, but with yellow skin and a couple of razor-sharp horns on their bald heads. They were shorter than the average man and wore wooden armor reminiscent of ancient China, while their vile faces were very dragon-like. Hate and resentment emitted from their wild eyes, which were red-colored and furious. The creatures' yellow skin was very slimy, but was completely hairless. Also, they had teeth and claws so sharp as if they had been honed. Fear paralyzed me as I uselessly tried to back away from the peculiar abominations, but all my attempts were futile, because they were agile and fast. They ferociously charged at me, and when they closed in on me, one of them eerily spoke in a sinister, horrid voice. It said: "WE ARE THE DEMONS OF MOLOK, AND YOU SHALL BECOME ONE OF OUR KIND!!" As it uttered its last word, it chuckled evilly and drove its malignant dagger into my heart. No pain was felt, but I witnessed my pallid skin altering its color to a bright yellow.

Into The Gaping Hole Part II

Diamonds, sapphires, rubies and opulent amounts of gold coins filled the deep hole, reflecting the faint glow of my worn-out torch with a shimmering radiance that burnt my eyes. Amongst the extravagant treasures were also diadems, rings and jewelry studded with rare gems. The quantity of the riches was also prodigious; the cumulative collection of gems and gold obscured the ground of the hole, so I predicted that there must be layers over layers of them. Shocked by the possibility of this speculation, I sped towards my torn leather sack and extracted my shovel from it.

I didn't wait for the sun's rise to commence looting the valuable contents of the hole. Within an instant, I began cramming assorted jewels into my shovel. Afterwards, I emptied them cautiously in a spare sack I had with me. For long hours I collected my precious prize, overjoyed not only by my luck, but also by the ease of the task compared to the punishing difficulty of mining, which was a risky job that relies on sheer luck and has nothing to do with skill. What I plundered in minutes overshadowed what a tyrannical king gained in a lifetime.

If it had been possible, I wouldn't have stopped working until the hole was devoid of any riches, but when the level of the gold declined and became out of my shovel's reach, I considered abandoning the ongoing task; I had already amassed a marvelous fortune that would guarantee any living man a luxurious life, yet it all appeared scanty whenever I fixed my gaze at the remaining jewels. Greed tightened its firm grip on me, but still, I managed to avoid jumping into the dark pit, despite my burning desire to do it.

A plan was what I needed before I could plunge into the hole. A mechanism, to be more precise. A mechanism that would hurl out the riches of the pit, but most importantly, a mechanism that could help me get out safely. Motivated by my lustful greed, I searched my sack for any tools of use, and to my glee, I found everything I needed: a collection of strong metal studs, a metal reel and some long ropes. First of all, I knotted a long rope around a stud which I had hammered into the ground beside the hole.This would be my method of escape from the pit. Afterwards, I inserted another long rope into the metal reel and then pinned the reel horizontally onto the edge of the pit using a stud. Finally, I emptied my sack of it's worthless contents and tied it to one side of the rope coming out of the reel.

My plan was to load the gems into the sack, close it and then pull the other side of the rope revolving around the reel until the sack reached the edge of the pit. Following that step, I would firmly fastened the side of the rope I pulled around a stud I had already hammered into a wall inside the hole so that the sack stays lifted. Finally, I would use the other rope to scale the hole's wall, exit it and store the gems in my spare sack. This witty method worked for hours, as I accumulated riches beyond any man's imagination. It all went fine until I heard deafening blast to which the earth beneath me shook madly. As horror began to swipe aside my greed, I decided to exit the gloomy pit and set off with my treasures. Alas, it never happened.

TO BE CONTINUED.

Into The Gaping Hole Part I

It is a commonly known fact that gruesome hordes of horrific creatures swarm our frail earth, but it's often overlooked that even more grotesque beings reside underneath it. Throughout the unending ages, man's cowardly aspect denied him the exceptional discovery of the terrestrial depths, yet when it didn't, man always faced nefarious mishaps. Whenever miners sought to delve into the rigid rock for riches and fortunes, disasters and calamities brutally befell them, and the reason always remained mysterious. Only skeptic speculations could be made, and none actually justified the drastic incident in a logical way.

It is unimportant to mention my name or origin, for neither contribute to my tale. What is obligatory for the reader to comprehend is that I used to be a gold miner in the rocky, mountainous ranges of the wretched western lands. Having undergone the punishing torture of a penniless life in my childhood and youth, I decided to tear asunder my poverty; I decided to snatch my own gold from the untrodden abyss underneath the earth's surface. Many a man warned me by saying that mining was a risky way in life, yet no one succeeded in bending my sturdy will; I acknowledged that my adventure was of a perilous nature, but that didn't stop me from embarking on it.

For long, meandering years, my iron pickaxe with its leather-clad haft was my only friend; the blazing rays of the radiant sun scorched my back as I monotonously and repeatedly hit the stiff rock with my tool until it cracked open. Anticipation always washed over me as I peered into the opening I had founded, but it soon faded when all I had discovered was more rock. As more months passed, desperation began to creep secretly into my heart. After a tiresome year of futile mining, I forsake my shabby pickaxe and decided to take my leave, for it seemed that luck wasn't on my side. I recall it all occurred on one cold winter night, when poverty and starvation had nearly killed me. Enraged by my own misery back then, I grabbed my meager possessions and left the miners' camp, where my fifteen-month stay was in vain.

With a sour taste of crushing despair, I trudged aimlessly for long weeks. For long days I wandered, and my food stocks only dwindled, but not only the looming ghost of imminent starvation haunted me; my existence was also battered by the freezing climate and the overbearing amounts of frigid snow. Yet I persisted and battled the severe cold until I finally reached a steeply-sloping rocky landscape, which I loathed, because it reminded me of my wasted mining days. Still, I thoroughly scavenged the land for a suitable resting place.

As I inspected the hill's abrupt crevices, I saw a sight so queer yet so relieving; I had stumbled upon a gaping hole so wide and deep in the ground. Only darkness emanated from its fathomless recesses. After a hasty moment of consideration, I set alight a torch with my last remaining match and apprehensively beheld the gloomy interior of the pit. What I beheld made my heart fraught with ultimate joy, but it also saddened for the years I had wasted in vain before the discovery of this hole, for inside it was a great assortment of gems and jewels, which differed in color, shape and size, but shared a magnificent, bedazzling radiance.

TO BE CONTINUED.

Lunar Battles

Out there over the widespread plains of the dreary lands, the waning, horned moon outshone everything with its brilliant radiance. It delicately painted the landscape with a pale white against the gloomy black of the night. The moon's radiant beams filled the air with dreadful grandeur and wicked majesty, while a dark, sinister vibe emanated from its fathomless craters. Like gaping holes they loomed large, and they made the crescent look glum and miserable; it appeared so sorrowful that it would even embrace the darkness of the night and shed a tear if it could.

For long, lonesome nights, I gazed at the weeping moon, keenly marking down it's subtlest changes. I witnessed it wax into a fat full moon and then wane into a scarcely visible line. Despite the form it assumed, the melancholy of the moon always prevailed; it was desperate and resentful, as if it felt and thought. Whenever I recounted this macabre tale, I was laughed at by everyone. To them, the assumption that the moon had sentiments was "purely ridiculous".

Yet I ignored them and ignored their lack of insight. Even though they didn't believe me, I persisted and decided to continue discerning the frail moon. The subject became of utmost importance to me that I dedicated my existence to it; I slept in the day and studied the moon in my vigil. With the passing of time, I withdrew more and more from normal life and became a nocturnal creature with one obsession; the crescent moon lingering in the night sky. As I accumulated more knowledge on the bleak subject, more and more lunar secrets unmasked themselves and disclosed their true forms, which were quite variant but always mystical and horrible. Some were decipherable, while others were so unearthly and queer. However, they were all ominous and disturbing.

It was all fine and tolerable until I saw the accursed shapes. Shapes so queer and obscure emerged from the feeble outline of the floating crescent moon. Shapes so dark and terrifying. Beasts, monsters, morbidities beyond even the most lunatic of imaginations. They haunted me in my days and nights, while a mere thought of them was enough to induce agony in me. Even my dreams became fraught with them and sent me into realms so chaotic and twisted. In my waking hours, I sent the shapes away with my blessings and litanies, but they prevailed. Fear and dismay were everything I felt now; with the lunar bestiaries lurking about, I couldn't but feel anxious and apprehensive.

When I was sure that the torment of the lunar shapes was inescapable, I decided it was done. My life had lost its precious worth. Standing by the window that exposed the lurking moon and the morbidities residing in it, I drew a kitchen knife close to my neck, and within a moment, blood began to trickle down my chest, making my horrified heart beat only faster. I gazed at the moon; I looked it in the eye. I saw it as it laughed at my sheer misery and crowed over my faint submission to death. Within moments, it waxed into its full form and then began to grow until it concealed the black of the sky. The new moon, with its prodigiously vast proportions, grinned evilly; it's maniacal eyes were so cruel and savage that I couldn't tolerate the mere sight. Agonized and hopeless, I drew the knife close to my heart. I called upon what remained of my strength and brutally stabbed myself. The impact was crushing, so I stumbled uncontrollably and fell to the ground. As my blood ran out, a sense of extreme joy and ultimate glee washed over me, for I saw the expression on the moon's grotesque face alter as it hastily waned and faded from sight. I had killed myself, and killed the moon with me

Fury From The Deep

Within the immense lands of this darkened world lurk horrors that even the immemorial years of boundless time scarcely recall. In the remotest recesses of these accursed realms live creatures that assume forms much unlike those of men. Over the unending ages, these creatures struck fear and horror into the hearts of the bravest men. Wandering nomads murmur queer tales of unspoken morbidities. Some speak of damp, stinking marshes where humans with fish heads dwell. With frantic expressions on their faces, the nomads depict the forms of these marsh natives; scaly, muscular bodies with a bedazzling, radiating blue color. The nomadic folk continue by claiming that the queer race have fish heads, with slits for a nose and gaping gills stretching over their slimy necks. In addition to that, it is said that the half-fish half-men have webbed hands and feet reminiscent of those of frogs. It is also said that they have claws and teeth sharper than the sharpest swords.

At the confessions of the nomads men of science laugh and claim that the nomads are maddened by the heat of the sizzling deserts. The nomads seem to be insulted, for they insist on the veracity of their strange stories. Once, in a forgotten village so old that no living man knows it's name, a violent confrontation broke out between a group of nomads who believed in the existence creatures and the villagers who denied it. The nomads spread weird warnings and unknown messages across the village, with the phrase "THEY WILL RISE AGAIN FROM A GRAVE SO DEEP!" recurring very often. At first, the warnings were neglected by the villagers, who dismissed the nomads as "mad wanderers with false esoteric teachings", but a while later, when the nomads started increasing in number, those warnings became a real threat.

The violent confrontation continued for months, bringing blights and bloodshed into the miserable land. The bloodshed only increased with the passing of time, for many of the villagers joined forces with the nomads. Many came who tried to settle the conflict peacefully, but none succeeded. Their wise words weren't as strong as the sharp edges of the warriors' swords. So it continued brutally for more and more years, until a wise man arose from the ranks of the villagers army. As soon as he gained the leadership of the village, he called for a hasty meeting between the warring sides. When they were gathered, he said that the war was meaningless and pointless, and could be simply ended. Many of the leaders found this claim unsatisfactory, but they allowed him to speak. He then said that the matters could be settled if the villagers challenged the nomads by asking them to take them to the marshes where the creatures dwelt. This request angered many of the leaders from both sides, yet many others found it clever and beneficial. After hours of reluctant pondering, both sides accepted the request and decided to end the war with it.

It seems that the absence of the villagers' usual skepticism cost them a lot, for their blind belief that the creatures were unreal led them into their demise. The group that was sent into the marsh that the nomads designated as the nest of the beasts never came back. Yet the villagers waited. They waited for what felt like long years, but when desperation started to triumph against their patience, they formed an armed group and embarked on a journey to the marsh. To their utmost dismay, the first group wasn't there at all. What they found was a pile of burnt flesh clad in silver armor - the villagers' armor. The flesh was found beheaded, bloodied and desecrated on the shores of the exact marsh the nomads had told them of.

Taking that observation into account, what happened is somehow obvious, but not entirely, because not many know that the nomads were bathing in the marsh when the first villagers arrived. Because not many know that the whole nomadic army disappeared after the massacre. Because not many have read the note inscribed in blood on the villagers' rotting cadavers:
"WITH OUR AID, THEY WILL RISE AGAIN FROM A GRAVE SO DEEP! WE HAVE FORSAKEN THE CRUELTY OF THE FRAIL DESERTS TO EMBRACE THE CRUSHING POWERS OF THE WATERY DEPTHS! THE LORDS OF THE OCEANS HAVE GIVEN US A GIFT SO PRECIOUS! YOU WERE IDIOTIC! WE WARNED YOU AND TOLD YOU TO BOW TO YOUR TRUE LORDS! BUT YOU REFUSED, AND NOW THE LORDS OF THE OCEANS REFUSE YOU! YOU WILL PERISH, ALL OF YOU! YOU WILL PERISH WHEN OUR NICE, NEW TEETH WILL GNAW YOUR PUNY, TASTY FLESH!"