The Woodsman and the Demon (SOLO)

[Revenant]

William's backstory. Closed.

The sun hung heavy and bloated in the morning sky, its harsh rays beating unmercifully through the leaves of the forest canopy. Though it was scarcely mid-day, the temperature was already scalding and the thick humidity made breathing laborious and intense.

It was a day just like this, William Arcus reminisced as he rested in the cooling shade of a great oak tree. A day just like this that it all began.

*****

Sweat ran in rivers down William’s back, and though it was only noon he had already put in a full day’s work. The heat of a summer day in the Minske Forest could be overwhelming, so William had made it habit to be up and at his work site at the break of dawn. On a normal day, he would be just about finished with the heavy work, letting the hotter portions of the afternoon drift by lazily while he did menial tasks in the shade. But normal days were rare in the recent weeks.

William’s work requests had nearly tripled the last time that he had carted his lumber to the small town of Hunston. Rumors of a sorcerer armed with dark magic and an army of mercenaries had been on everyone’s lips and people were stockpiling everything they could get their hands on. Old Crove, the local fletcher and notorious brick wall when it came to price negotiations, had arrived early and paid William almost double his normal bargaining price to get his hands on two-thirds of William’s stock. When William questioned Crove about the oddity of the situation, Crove merely told him that his shop was currently backordered on supplies for over twenty customers. William had just brushed off the chatter as small town rumors and backwoods paranoia, and had praised his good fortunes when he had come back home from Hunston with enough furs and foodstuffs to last his family through the rest of summer. The rumors of a sorcerer’s army were left behind with his lumber.

Since his return from Hunston, William had worked twice as hard to pull in all the stock that he could before the tide of paranoia passed and normal purchasing practices resumed. William wasn’t a dishonest man, and he ensured that he produced nothing but quality supplies, but if people were willing to throw their trade goods away at the first mention of outlander strife, who was William to argue with them?

“Whew,” William exclaimed, stacking the last piece of wood on this morning’s second yard of lumber. “Break time.” William dropped his woodcutting axe with a thump and sat heavily on the pile of lumber that he had just finished. He took a quick pull from the water skin at his hip and then poured a dose over his head to cool himself down. Slicking his wiry black hair back out of his eyes, William stared off into the lush foliage.

The Minske Forest had always been William’s home and he knew its moods in the way that a longtime friend knew. William spotted a doe and her fawn in the distance, watched as the doe walked cautiously through the underbrush before spotting William and bolting, youngster in tow.

That’s odd, thought William. The deer around here usually aren’t quite that skittish. It was just one incident in an increasing trend of things that didn’t sit quite right with William. An increasing number of forest animals, like the doe and her fawn, had been increasingly frightened. William also noticed that there was more wildlife around, as if something were driving through William’s neck of the woods. William’s thought returned briefly to the rumors of Hunston’s sorcerer.

Bah, William chided himself. I’m getting as bad as the townies. Rebecca wouldn’t ever let me live this down. Image her big, strong husband worrying about someone’s monster under the bed. William smiled at his own foolishness as picked up his ax, ready to get back to work.

As his ax prepared for the first bite into the fresh trunk, William heard the faintest sound carrying on the slight breeze that rustled through the trees. The sound was faint, almost undetectable, but it brought an undeniable sense of urgency that held William’s ax. The longest seconds of William’s life dragged by, and just before William relaxed his vigil he heard the sound again, completely unmistakable. It was the sound of Rebecca’s voice, and she was screaming.

[Revenant]

Travelling this road of memories always brought out the restlessness in William, and restlessness could wake the hungers which burned under his skin. William pulled a heavy burlap sack from the backpack that he had dumped unceremoniously in the grass beside his resting place. Unlike his other possessions, William treated the contents of the burlap sack with a tender, almost loving quality.

“My hope,” William whispered with longing as he removed the Tome of Kal’Necroth from the protective sack. William’s traced the cover of the Tome with bandaged fingers, sliding them sensuously across the gilded runes. The fingers stopped short of caressing the central rune however, a rune with which he was all too familiar.

*****

“Rebecca!” William roared as he sprinted through Minske Forest. Serrated branches lashed at his uncovered torso and hungry roots grabbed for William’s feet as he tore through the underbrush. William’s lungs were fire, and acid filled his veins, and all thoughts of lumber and profits were burned clean by the single focusing point of William’s wife and the unborn child that she bore.

William initially feared that Rebecca had cried out because something was wrong with the child. The couple had tried for years to conceive. They had wanted nothing more than to raise a flock of children in the cabin that William had built, and when it was confirmed that Rebecca was finally pregnant, the two of them had been brought to tears by their joy. William’s mind flashed back to all of the nights they had held her close, rocking her slowly while they talked of their child and the happy life they would all have together. He remembered the laughs they had shared as they decided that the child would be named for William’s father Jason if it were a boy or Rebecca’s grandmother Rhea if it were a girl. He thought of the rocking cradle that he had built and the two linen sets that Rebecca had knitted for it, green for Jason and blue for Rhea. But the memories were now cold and cracked.

Rebecca’s first cry had been faint but had alerted William, and her second had spurred him to flight. But it was her third cry, strangled, painful, and short, that had gripped William’s heart with its icy fingers and thrust all reason from his mind.

William could feel the heat and smell the smoke long before his cabin came into sight and as William burst from the underbrush his cries of fear degenerated into a mournful scream. Though he longed to leap into the swirling flames that danced around his cabin, what he saw cut his legs out from under him and William crashed into the tilled earth. There was no mistaking the motionless heap that lay sprawled in the dust before the burning cabin.

Unable to find his feet, William clawed his way across the clearing towards Rebecca. With a sobbing wail William cradled the still form of his wife to his chest, rocking her gently like he had happy nights gone by.

As William howled his grief to the forest he forced himself to stare at the parchment that had been pinned to William’s cart with a hunting knife, forced himself to burn the parchment’s rune into his mind.

Behind William, a cradle with green and blue linen blackened quietly in the flames.

[Revenant]

William gently replaced the Tome of Kal’Necroth in its burlap sack, unable to bear looking upon it as he relived the memories of his wife. He desperately wished that he could halt the unending flood of memories that washed over him, but he knew that it was as impossible to halt that flood as it was to deny the demon’s rage that pressured the back of his mind.

“Forgive me Rebecca,” William breathed, giving in to the memories.

*****

William had held Rebecca close until the warmth of her life had fled in the summer breeze, and had poured out his pain until the tears refused to flow any further. When he finally came back to his senses and knew that no further good would come from his grief, William grabbed his tools as set to digging a grave in the flower garden that Rebecca had loved so much.

William dug with a stoic determination. Despite the fact that the ground had been tilled to make way for Rebecca’s summer crop only a month before, the earth was stubborn and yielded slowly to William’s relentless advance. His muscles ached from the two yards of lumber that he had already prepared that day, and long hours passed with the heat of the intense summer sun stabbing into his back, but William’s tools rose and fell with an unceasing rhythm. Hunger gnawed at William’s insides, and his mouth was dry and cracked with thirst, but William refused to take a break or indulge himself. Finally, as darkness claimed the forest, William flung his tools aside. Rebecca’s grave was finished.

Lit by the afterglow of his burnt cabin’s embers, William kissed his wife her final farewell and laced her hair with the flowers that she had loved so much so that she would be the most spectacular woman in the afterlife and all the spirits of the underworld would knew that she had been loved. A single tear, the last that William shed for her, fell upon Rebecca’s cheek as he put her into the grave.

“Wait for me, my beautiful wife,” he whispered to her. “Wait for me with our child and I swear to you I’ll be with you soon.”

William’s gaze returned to the hunting knife and runic parchment that had been left as a signature by Rebecca’s killers.

“And I won’t be coming alone.”

[Revenant]

William’s restlessness had turned to outright agitation. The old wounds of his memories had woken the demon within him, and William could feel the rage, small as it was, in the back of his mind. It urged William to action, and he was no longer able to enjoy the restfulness of the forest’s cooling shade. With a predatory grace, William gathered his possessions and sprang into the forest, the rage within him greedily suckling on the teat of his memories.

*****

William wore the Minske like a cloak and rode the forest’s hidden pathways and animal trails with a practiced ease that could only be developed through a lifetime of living among the trees. He retraced the steps of his run from the lumber yard to his home, but even the most astute observer would be amazed to know that the man who had mindlessly rushed headlong through the underbrush and the man who now stalked silently through the foliage were one and the same. William had become a spirit of the woods, the will of the forest’s vengeance made flesh.

The shadow that was William Arcus flowed into the abandoned lumber yard and set about to gather bits and pieces of logging tools that had been tossed aside in his wild flight. William gathered the straps and spikes he used for climbing and leveraging trees, the chipping and carving tools he used to shape orderly lumber from nature’s wooden chaos, and of course his woodcutting ax. Satisfied that he had everything that he would need, William stepped back into the shadows of the underbrush and disappeared from the worksite clearing.

It was well past midnight when William arrived at his destination, a one room cabin where he had spent his childhood with his father and learned the man’s lumber trade. William had already built a separate cabin for himself and Rebecca at the time of Jason Arcus’ death two years previous, so Jason’s cabin had become an abandoned hut and most people had forgotten that it ever existed. William, however, had never forgotten the abandoned cabin of his youth, and the forest’s night trails ran him swiftly to his childhood home.

The last two years had not been kind to Jason’s old shack, and the forest had made great strides in its effort to reclaim the cabin as its own. The wooden structure was piled high with dust and dried leaves, left there by two years worth of seasonal droppings. Stubborn brush and hardy weeds thrust from water-swollen cracks in the planked flooring and an abandoned rabbit den filled most of the southwest corner, but even with these things, the cabin still provided a great degree of shelter from the elements. William figured that he didn’t need much more than that. This was coupled with the fact that Jason’s cabin was even more remote than William’s own, which made it an optimal choice.

The cabin’s remoteness was a point that stuck in William’s mind like the knife that had stuck the rune parchment to his cart. Unless the murderers had been extremely lucky in wandering through the hundrers of square miles of the Minske Forest, someone had alerted them to William’s presence. The only people that knew where to find William’s cabin were some of his most frequent customers in Hunston, which meant that whoever killed Rebecca had been to the small town.

William would be making his next trip to Hunston earlier than expected.

[Revenant]

I am no longer the man who was master of the Minske Forest, William mused as he ran along the forest trails in the hot noon sun. He had a strength he would never have dreamed of in his younger days, a strength that had been forged and tempered into a furious weapon in the fires of slaughter. William could feel that strength blossoming through his as the demon came more and more awake; that wonderful, terrible strength. But, what good is having this strength if it robs me of everything else?

William no longer moved through the woods with the subtle grace of the woodsman he had once been. He could no longer stalk the trails as a man who was one with the living world around him. His knowledge and skill had been displaced by the rage of the demon that gave him his power and redefined who he was and only in the calmest periods of his new life could he even remember a fraction of what he used to be. The turbulence of his memories had only served to spark the hunger of the demon within him, and even as his strength grew, William felt more and more like a foreigner in his own body.

*****

With all the internal strife and anger that boiled within him, William would not have believed it was possible for him to have fallen asleep in the confines of his father’s cabin. The thought that he could slip into dreams after the horrors he had witnessed was completely laughable to William, so it was with a startling jolt that morning came upon William and pulled him from a violently from a troubled sleep with a scream stifled upon his lips.

Rebecca had been there, in his dreams. She had stood there in the clothes that he had buried her in with flower laced in her hair and had smiled a sad smile at him. William had tried to reach her, fought with all of his might but to no avail. Rebecca remained forever beyond his reach. Once awake, the dream served to harden William’s resolve to find Rebecca’s murderers and bring them to whatever justice the afterlife held for them. He silently packed his tools, hoisted his ax, and set off for the trail that would lead him to the town of Hunston.

The trip to from William’s cabin to Hunston took most of a day to travel by cart, though William’s normal method was to stop for a night’s rest on the road outside of town so that he could arrive early and get a full day of work. Jason’s cabin was almost a mile and a half closer to Hunston than William’s was, and William had no cart this time to slow his progress so it was early in the afternoon when William came close to Hunston.

The only thing that William had to identify Rebecca’s murderers was the runic symbol that had been pinned to his cart, and the well used knife that they had pinned it with. William wasn’t sure who in Hunston had sold his family out, wasn’t sure who he could trust. A lifetime of connections and small-town friendships had been wiped away in one moment of ultimate betrayal. It was this betrayal that caused William to sneak off the main road and circle around the town so that he could approach undetected.

It was this betrayal that saved William’s life.

[Revenant]

William abruptly halted his run through the forest. Something on the wind had caught his attention, pulling him from his reverie. A scent filled his nostrils, an all too familiar scent that called to the demon within his skin. It was the scent of hot spilled blood and fear. It was the scent of violence.

William followed the scent, sniffing the air like a wild beast. Thick branches and twisting vines caught at his heavy wool cloak as he stepped off the beaten trail and entered the forest proper.

*****

William stood in the foliage at the edge of Hunston and gazed in horror at what he saw. The image of Hunston as a peaceful hamlet where William had conducted business was irrevocably shattered. Most of the town’s buildings lay in charred ruins, the cool ash blowing through the clearing an indicator that the buildings had not been burned recently. A grotesque pile of human bodies had been piled up at the edge of town, leaving no doubt of the fate of many of the town’s inhabitants.

Upon seeing the body of old Crove, the town fletcher, nailed to the side of his shop with his own arrows, William was overcome by the sheer amount of carnage that had been wrought upon Hunston. He slumped back into the shadows of the forest and vomited well past the point where his body had nothing left to expel. When he could once again keep control of his stomach, William staggered towards a small hole in the brush and slumped to the ground. William reflected on what he had seen in Hunston, and as he did so he could feel the righteous rage that had fueled him since Rebecca’s murder being drained away and replaced with a cold feeling of despair.

“How could this happen?” William whispered to himself in denial. “Hunston is a peaceful town; it’s no threat to anybody.” William thought back to the rumors that he had heard on his last trip to Hunston and how quickly he had dismissed them as the frightened ramblings of a bunch of country gossip mongers with nothing better to do than make up wild stories. Those gossipers now pointed their vindication at William with lifeless hands from the communal corpse pile.

“Oh Rebecca,” William moaned in mental anguish, “What can I do? I can’t go against that. I can’t bring you justice. I’ve failed you.”

William quieted as his self-depreciating fit of pity was interrupted by voices coming from the edge of town.

[Revenant]

William pushed through the thick forest foliage, following the scent of violence on the wind. He was no longer a woodsman, blazing a trail through the afternoon heat. He was now a predator, stalking the brush in search of prey. The demon had almost fully wakened now, and William was merely trailing in its wake. Reaching the source of his hunt, William burst from the brush and into a gore spattered clearing.

*****

“Look, it’s not me that makes the schedule,” a rough voice barked. “I only know that Metzger says we go out and walk around this shit-hole, we go out and walk around this shit-hole.”

“Damn, Denton,” came a reply from a second voice, “You’d kiss Metzger’s ass if he dropped his trousers for you.”

William instantly sprang back to his feet, only half a dozen feet from the source of the voices. William made a mental note that both voices belonged to men, though the first man was taller and had a deeper voice than the second. William chalked the first man up as the more dangerous of the two.

“I’m telling you” the second man continued, “that this ‘patrol the compound’ bullshit is a waste of our goddamned time. Ain’t nobody left in this part of the woods since we done in that woodsman’s place yesterday morning. Shit that’s probably the last fun we’ll get in this shit-hole until Metzger gets us back on the move.”

William knew without a doubt that the woodsman’s place the two men were talking about could only be his own. Such casual mention of the slaughter of his wife and the burning of his home drove away the moment of crushing despair that he had experienced and the righteous anger returned. Silently William lowered his bag of tools, took out a strap of leather he used for logging, and hefted his ax.

“Fuck you, Berenger,” Denton shot back at the second man, “I’d talk this boring ass shit-hole over the fighting up in Amra any…” Denton’s reply was cut short as the two men passed William’s hiding spot.

William burst from the brush with a feral snarl. William’s left hand snaked out with practiced ease and the leather strap that he held lashed out and circled Berenger’s neck like it had to so many thick branches and tree trunks. The heavy ax in William’s right hand descended in an arc which had many times bit deeply into fresh lumber, but now bit into the nape of Denton’s neck drawing blood instead of sap. William hauled on the men with all of the considerable strength that years as a woodsman had built and both were lifted off their feet and into the brush.

Within the short span of time that it took Denton and Berenger to realize that they were under attack, the fight was over and both men had disappeared from their patrol around Hunston.

[Revenant]

William found himself staring at a gut-pile, the mass of organs and gore that was left by a hunter to lure predatory animals away after field cleaning a kill. Several smaller scavengers that had been nibbling at the entrails hissed at the emerging figure to show their territorial superiority, but when they recognized the superior menace that William presented, they fled with their tails between their legs.

The gut-pile certainly drew in a predator, William mused, But I’ll bet that I’m not what this hunter expected.

William’s practiced eye spotted the trail that the hunter had left when he dragged the deer’s carcass from the clearing. With mounting bloodlust, William set off on the hunter’s trail, and the hunter became the hunted.

Won't he be surprised.

*****

Berenger and Denton crashed to the forest floor in a heap. The ax had done its work efficiently on the larger of the two men and Denton was dead before his body came to rest, cloven from shoulder to sternum in one powerful blow. Berenger, on the other hand, was quick to roll to a kneeling position, one hand fumbling for his sword while the other clutched feebly at the leather strap which cut off his windpipe. William’s boot ended the man’s resistance, the thick leather sole detonating the smaller man’s nose in a shower of cartilage and gore. Disoriented from William’s assault, and dizzy from the lack of oxygen, Berenger slumped to the ground, unconscious.

By the time Berenger startled back into the waking world, he was a half a mile away from Hunston. Berenger struggled against the leather cords that William used to bind him, but escape was not an option.

“Shit, man,” Berenger spat at William, who sat on a fallen tree trunk only a few feet away. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but I know what you are. You’re a dead man.”

William merely stared at Berenger with hard, dark eyes.

“You think you scare me, you country piece of shit? You think this scares me?” Berenger pulled at the leather cords binding him.

William stared cold daggers at the bound man.

“Fuck you, bumpkin! I’ve seen shit that would blow your yokel mind and I’ve lived to tell the tale. I’m a stone cold killer, I am. I’ve killed men whose only crime was looking at me when I was in a bad mood. What the fuck do you have on me?”

Silently, William pulled out the hunting knife that had been left at the scene of Rebecca’s murder.

“Oh,” a crack appeared in Berenger’s bravado, “shit, man. Listen. I need you to listen to me. That shit wasn’t my fault. One of the townies told Metzger about you and Metzger told us to find your place and bring you back.”

William stood up from his log and took a step towards the bound man.

“It wasn’t me, man. It was that fucking Denton. I tried to stop him, but you saw how big he is. Look at me; I couldn’t do anything about him.” Berenger’s speech was getting more and more frantic as William’s shadow slid across him.

“C’mon man, you’ve got to believe me. The woman wouldn’t tell us where you were, and Denton got angry. He was an animal when he was angry, man, a fucking beast. You’ve got to believe me. I tried, man, I tried.” Berenger was in hysterics, nearly sobbing with fright. William knelt next to the man, face to face, his hot breath washing over the blade of the knife that William held between them.

“That woman,” William hissed, “was my wife.”

Berenger cried out as William slashed quickly against the bound man’s face. The cut wasn’t deep, but it bled freely.

“That woman,” William’s voice rose in his mounting anger, “was carrying our child.”

William slashed out with the hunting knife again, this time at Berenger’s chest. Berenger had become a screaming mass, thrashing against the bonds that held him but unable to move them.

“That woman,” William was now roaring in Berenger’s face, “was everything!”

This time, the knife didn’t glide across the bound man’s skin, but instead dove inwards, burying itself in yielding flesh. Berenger screamed, a harsh shrill sound, but this only fueled William’s rage. The knife pulled back and plunged in, time and again, until well after Berenger’s screaming had stopped. William spat every curse that he could think of, snarled like a beast, and frothed at the mouth before finally breaking down in heaving sobs as he finished his deed.

William stood and paced around the small clearing, half out of his mind. He wiped the sweat and tears from his face with the back of his arm, not realizing that he was smearing the crimson of Berenger’s blood all over himself. Looking at the ruin that had moments before been a man, William turned and retched into the brush. Dry heaves wracked William’s body and he collapsed into a weeping mess. Long minutes passed before William was able to compose himself.

“Metzger,” William repeated the name that Berenger had given him. “You wanted me, you bastard? You can have me.”

[Revenant]

William ran through the forest once again, only this time the trail that he was following was not just a random game trail. The demon swam close to the surface of William’s mind, the pressure within him building to a terrible crescendo. Patches of William’s skin began to erupt in pain as the wakened power of the demon consumed him, burning his mortal frame to ash with its immortal fury.

*****

“Curse the Gods, Hawrer, if you don’t pay more attention to what you’re doing, the Phantom ain’t even going to have a chance to kill your sorry ass.”

“Fuck you, Johns, it’s not like you have any idea what the fuck I’m doing over here anyway.”

William watched the two men, Hawrer and Johns, as they made a crude pretense of trying to set up a snare trap. William knew that the two men were bait, serving no other purpose than to lure him out of his hiding place. William took his time and scanned the surrounding foliage, locating eight more men around the poorly placed trap, waiting to spring the ambush on him.

Ten men, William counted, Metzger must be champing at the bit to get his hands of the Minske Phantom. William still chuckled when he thought of the name that Metzger’s men had given him in the month since he had started his crusade against them. The rumors about William as a vengeful forest spirit started shortly after the disappearance of Berenger and Denton. There hadn’t been much concern at first since desertion was a fairly common occurrence in the mercenary ranks, but after the disappearance of the two-man patrol sent out to find Berenger and Denton, and the disappearance of the three-man patrol to find them that worried murmurings had started.

William had killed almost fifty of the mercenaries in the month that he had been living as the Minske Phantom. During this time he had filled in many of the gaps in his knowledge by harshly questioning the men that he had captured before taking their lives. The most telling thing that William had learned, however, was that though Metzger was the leader of the mercenaries in Hunston, he was only one of several Captains that worked for Kal’Necroth, the dark sorcerer whose rumors William had dismissed what seemed like an eternity ago. It was Kal’Necroth who was William’s true adversary since Kal’Necroth was the man who had sent Metzger’s band to obtain supplies and able-bodied captives to fuel his war in a place called Amra.

William had never heard of Amra before he had started questioning Metzger’s forces, and he didn’t know why the place was important, but he knew that he would do everything in his power to share his pain with Kal’Necroth.

[Revenant]

Twigs and branches stabbed into William’s heavy woolen cloak as he ran along the hunter’s path. The cloak was not optimal gear for running full-tilt through the forest, and there were many who would be amazed that someone would choose such a stifling manner of dress in the sweltering heat of the summer. William found that practicality was more important than function or proper decorum in this instance, however, and it was extremely practical to keep as much of his skin, that which constantly burned away and restored itself, hidden away from prying eyes.

The rage was upon William now, and with the rage came the full brunt of the demonic power coursing through him. A thin dusting of ashes trailed from the wool cloak that caught and tore as William raced down the trail, wafting in the breeze of his wake.

*****

William glided towards a pair of his would-be ambushers, silent and lean. A month of strife and existing in a state of constant readiness had taken a toll on him. Gone was the woodsman that had buried his wife in the flower garden. The endless days of fighting and sleepless nights on guard had stripped away the softness in him, leaving him hard and sharp.

The changes within William weren’t all physical. William looked back with scorn on how he had been violently ill after taking Berenger’s life. At the time, the act of brutually killing a helpless man in cold blood overwhelmed him. That too had been burned away from him in his crucible, and killing no longer bothered William. These mercenaries hardly counted as people anymore. To William Arcus, the Minske Phantom, these men were prey.

William took note of each man’s position as he began his approach. Each of the ten mercenaries was partnered up with a second, four groups of two surrounding the central bait. William had seen this pairing more in recent days as these mercenaries developed a fear to be alone. A month ago, William would have roared with laughter at the thought of a band of hardened killers being terrified of him. Now, he relished the fear that he caused, and the power that it gave him over them.

William’s smile was cold and malicious as he inched ever closer to the two men that he had picked to be his first victims in today’s cruel dance. Hawrer and Johns, the two men who were acting as bait, continued to ramble and argue in an attempt to draw him in, and though William had long ago tuned them out of his mind, he was thankful for the extra noise which helped to shield his approach. At three feet from his intended targets, William halted his slow advance, muscles coiled like a resting snake, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The moment came when a heavy crashing sound came from the brush across the clearing. William had quietly set up a deadfall with a weakened support branch to ensure that time and weight would bring it down before sneaking around to his present location. The deadfall served its purpose masterfully and all ten of the ambushers turned to face the source of the sound. Once the men in front of William turned their attentions away from him, William rose like a serpent, ax cocked behind him. Stepping up to the duo, William struck and his ax spun in a tight arc, slowing only fractionally as it sped through the side of the first man’s head and lodged in the center of the second man.

The wounds to both men were fatal, but the second man’s injuries were not as deep as William had hoped they would be. The mercenaries hardened leather armor had not saved him from the woodsman’s ax, but it had offered enough protection that William only managed to hew through one of the man’s lungs. With the last of his breath, the dying man gasped out a strangled cry, alerting his comrades. The remaining eight men turned from the sound of the deadfall to stare at William. With an icy grin, William stared back and pulled on his ax to free it.

That icy grin melted as William realized that his ax was stuck.

[Revenant]

William lost track of how long he followed the hunter’s path as he drowned in the currents of the demonic rage that flowed around him. The bandages that William used to hide the skin of his hands and forearms trailed behind him, severed by the iron hard claws that had slid from William’s fingertips and inky blackness swam across his eyes as he spied something through the thinning line of trees that raced by him and altered course to intercept.

What little mental resistance William could muster against the demon’s influence screamed for a moment’s hesitation but, by this point, William couldn’t deny himself if he had even truly wanted to.

*****

The entirety of William’s existence had become nothing more than pain.

Without his weapon, William’s ambush of his ambushers had been doomed to failure. He had struggled against his foes with all of the hate and fury that he could muster, and had tried to flee when he realized it was hopeless, but the weight of their superior numbers had been too much for William and he had finally collapsed.

It’s funny, William reflected just before the blow landed which would rob him on consciousness, That my ax was what did me in.

William woke in hell. His capturers had dragged him back to their base of operations in Hunston, and paraded him in front of their peers like a trophy. William promised himself, as the beatings began, that he would keep control of himself and would remain defiantly silent. But in the end, it was more than he could bear, and his screams had echoed long and loud.

He was brutalized with fists and feet, knees and elbows for longer than he thought physically possible. Metzger’s men enjoyed taking all of their fear, anger, and frustration out on the helpless woodsman, trying to restore their masculinity through brute force. William was only saved from a messy death by Metzger himself, who had ordered that William was to remain alive and whole.

William wasn’t sure if this was a blessing or a curse.

The beatings continued for two days a man came forward to speak to William. From what little he could see of the approaching figure through blackened, swollen eyes, William knew that this man must be Metzger. Reaching out with both hands, Metzger hoisted William until the two of them were face to face. This act elicited a pain filled moan from the brutalized woodsman, which seemed to please the leader of the mercenaries.

“Let me make something clear to you, Phantom,” Metzger hissed in a tone that was cold as steel, “If I had any say in the matter, your entrails would already be decorating the four corners of this shitty little town. I would see you suffer like no man ever has for the shame that you have heaped on me and my men if only Kal’Necroth hadn’t personally commanded me to bring you to him. I might even have been inclined to disobey his orders if I didn’t think that the fate he has in store for you is ten times worse than anything I could come up with. What do you say to that?”

Metzger laughed as William tried to form a reply and only a pitiful gurgling escaped from his shattered jaw.

[Revenant]

A small cabin dominated the center of the small forest clearing, likely built by the hunter who William had trailed. The rough hewn walls of the one room shack interlocked and were bound in pitch to keep the wind and rain out. A line of rope extended from the cabin’s wall to a post, tattered and worn clothing hanging like ripe fruit to dry in the warm summer sunlight. The gutted corpse of a wild deer hung on a hook in a wooden locker, waiting to be parceled and smoked.

A young woman stepped out of the cabin, roused by the noise of William’s arrival. A casual greeting floated from her lips but was strangled when the full impact of what she saw hit her.

A shrill scream rang out of the small forest clearing.

*****

Metzger finished with William and tossed the broken woodsman aside like a dirty rag. Hawrer and Johns, were given the honor of being William’s handlers since they had performed so admirably in their role as bait. The two men had trussed William up, though on Metzger’s order, no further attacks were committed against his person. William’s shackles were double-bound and checked over by both of the men at least three times, as if they expected William to enact his great escape at any moment. William took a small amount of satisfaction in knowing that the mercenaries still feared him.

After binding William, Hawrer and Johns led him to the back of a covered wagon that waited outside the inn where they had kept him. William’s legs gave out on him several times during the walk, and each time Hawrer and Johns grunted angrily while they picked him up, as if his inability to remain upright pained them. Hawrer shoved William into the back of the wagon while Johns shackled him with another set of heavy chains. Once William was secured to his seat in the wagon, Hawrer and Johns, in an act that completely surprised him, gave William a pan of water to drink from. The pan was dirty, and the water was foul-smelling, but to a man whose only source of water for the past three days had been to suckle on the remains of whatever his tormenters had thrown on him, it was the finest drink he had ever had. Hawrer and Johns walked away while William lapped every bit of moisture that he could find from the pan. Once he was finished with the pan, realizing that he had been left alone, William passed into an exhausted slumber.

William floated in the comforting darkness that came with slumber until he was painfully jolted awake by three men climbing onto the wagon. William stirred uneasily and shook his head to clear the cobwebs, an action which brought him back to reality as pain flooded through him. Once more cognizant of the world around him, William looked at the position of the shadows to judge how long he had been asleep, and ascertained that he had only rested for an hour.

I guess an hour’s better than nothing, William groaned inwardly. Feeling better than he had at any point in the past three days, William looked around. The puffed swelling of his eyes had receded enough for him to make out the other passengers in the wagon with him. William saw that both Hawrer and Johns rode with him, but it was Metzger, the third man, who commanded his attention.

William had heard numerous conflicting descriptions of Metzger from the mercenaries that he had killed, but had never before had a good chance to study the man. Metzger was shorter than William, and slighter of frame, but held himself up with a sense of self superiority that William never could have matched. His hair was black, like William’s, but where the woodsman’s hair was unkempt and matted with days of blood and sweat, Metzger’s hair was short and meticulously groomed, an obvious mark of pride.

“You’re pathetic, Phantom” Metzger turned to his captive after noticing William’s attention. “Do you still think you can somehow kill me?” Metzger’s voice remained cold and neutral.

“Did you really think that you held a candle to me? I have an army of people willing to march to death at my command. I have power. What do you have?” Metzger’s steady, self-confident voice portrayed the message that nothing in the world could touch him, but when Metzger locked his stare onto William’s chained and battered body, William saw that the words were spoken only to reassure Metzger himself of his own superiority. The false front of bravado that Metzger concocted was predicated upon the whims of a higher authority and though Metzger thought of himself as someone of importance, a lead actor in the play, William could plainly see that Metzger was just a bit of decoration.

The thought both amused and terrified William.

[Revenant]

William paused for a fraction of a second to regain his bearings before his eyes locked upon the young woman across the clearing. She was a youthful woman, and though her face showed the signs of a hard outdoor life, William could see more laughter lines than frowns. For the briefest of moments, William saw her as his lost Rebecca, framed against the backdrop of a simple forest cabin.

The moment held for the blink of an eye before the Revenant surged forward, driven on by the rage within him and his overwhelming desire for blood.

*****

Every creak and bump of the wagon was agony to William, and though he no longer received beatings, it would be weeks before William would fully recover, and even then, he would never be the same.

As if I’ll live long enough to heal, William reflected when he thought about his condition. Despite his pessimism, William knew that things could certainly be worse.

The wagon that William and his captors rode in carried a large shipment of supplies destined for the front line of Kal’Necroth’s war in Amra, just as William was destined for Kal’Necroth himself. The wagon stopped twice a day to allow the oxen that pulled it a small chance to rest, and each night a travelling camp was erected. Though William remained in chains throughout the entire journey, he at least received a daily ration of food and water, for which he was grateful.

Most of the journey was conducted in silence. Metzger kept to himself aside from giving orders to Hawrer and Johns, who only spoke to William to insult him. As loathe as he was to associate with these animals, William would have spoken up to break the monotony if his broken jaw hadn’t made the task too difficult.

Thus, William was forced to spend the week long journey to Kal’Necroth’s war camp in brooding silence.

[Revenant]

Seeing William’s mad sprint across the clearing towards her, the woman panicked. She felt the paralysis of fear clawing at her. She was used to facing wild animals, driven mad with hunger or sickness, but the thing that raced towards her made her mind reel, but she was a woman of the wilds, and the lessons that she had learned living amidst the dangers of the forest ensured that her body reacted even as her mind froze.

Scant fractions of a second before William’s outstretched claws snagged her; the woman slipped into the safety of her cabin and slammed the door. She fumbled with the door’s single lock, a minor thing that would not hold the raving madman outside at bay for long, but anything was better than nothing.

Securing the lock, the woman’s instinct finally gave in to her terror and she slumped to the floor and wailed in fright as the door shuddered under William’s relentless assault.

*****

William had been born and raised in the Minske Forest and his only real contact with the world outside were the merchant caravans that stopped in Hunston on their way through the forest. William knew that there was a much wider world that waited for him outside of his small stretch of trees, but he had never seen anything as grand as the war camp of Kal’Necroth. Tents, wagons, and supplies stretched over the rolling foothills of Amra as far as William could see and the smoke from thousands of campfires blotted out the sun. The many sights, sounds, and smells were too much for the small town woodsman to take in at once and the mercenaries Hawrer and Johns elbowed each other and chuckled over the stupid look of amazement plastered across William’s face. Metzger smiled at him as if to say, now you see why I am better than you.

Two guards at the edge of camp stopped the wagon to ensure that the cargo and passengers had the proper paperwork to achieve entrance to Kal’Necroth’s army. They nodded their assent for the supplies but seemed surprised and amused to see William bound so tightly in the back of the wagon.

“Watch it Berg,” one of the guards laughed to the other while he poked at William, sending tremors of agony through the bound man’s frame. “This guy is a dangerous one.”

“You sure it’s a man, Kurt,” Berg chimed back, “I thought it was a bear, cause of how heavy it’s trussed up.”

“Naw,” Kurt continued, “big, strong soldiers like these wouldn’t be scared of no bear.” The inhabitants of the wagon, barring William, were incensed at the jesting poked their way, which just caused the guards to guffaw even harder. William would have been as amused as the guards if he were feeling a bit more up to it.

“You insignificant zits have no idea who you’re talking to,” Metzger spat, indignant that someone of such low stature would mock him. He pressed a sheaf of papers which indicated his rank into the guard’s faces, ensuring that their laughter was cut short, before angrily ordering Johns to drive the cart into camp.

“Captain Fuckhead thinks a little too much about himself, eh Berg,” Kurt said to his companion once Metzger’s wagon was out of earshot.

Kurt and Berg burst out into laughter again.

[Revenant]

William could hear the piteous wailing coming from his prey on the other side of the door. The scent of her fear filled his nostrils and drove him further into his frenzied state. Inhuman snarls escaped from burnt lips while his claws dug deep furrows in the dry wood. Inside, the woman on the floor prayed to whatever force would listen that the handmade door would be able to hold William at bay. Her hopes were dashed as William’s arm punched through the door like a spear, burying William to his shoulder in the thick planks.

Trails of pain burned across William’s arm as the door’s hardwood splinters dug into his raw, tortured flesh. He could feel the woman hysterical thrashing increase as he groped his hand down the inside of the wooden barrier, kicking and twisting just under the wicked knife’s edge of his claws. The demon howled with murderous delight as William caught a slight grip, feeling the meat in the woman’s shoulder part under his caress.

Bloody climax at hand, William gave a final lunge and shattered the upper frame of the door. Unfettered now, William’s claws dove in for a kill.

*****

Kal’Necroth’s tent pavilion was by far the largest and most secure in the war camp. Fifty feet of open space had been cleared around the magnificent structure, and a veritable army of guards roamed the open plaza. A black, serpentine creature, the likes of which William had never heard of, coiled around the top of the tent’s central support, multiple eyes scanning lazily over the field. Arcane symbols decorated every square inch of the tent’s heavy canvas walls; paint, chalk, and other unmentionables scribbled together to form a flowing tableau which drew on onlooker’s eye towards the central mark that dominated the pavilion. It was a runic identification mark which William knew all too well. It was the mark which had been left at the scene of Rebecca’s murder. It was the mark of Kal’Necroth.

Johns was steering the transport wagon down one of the trails that lead towards the clearing when a crossbow bolt slammed into the headrest mere inches from his face. Johns yelped in surprised fright and pulled the wagon to a quick stop.

“That’s right,” a voice called out from the clearing. “That wagon stays put or the next one pins your skull to the backboard.” Johns immediately dropped the ox reins and thrust his hands into the air. “Good boy,” the voice continued. “I haven’t heard of any shipment being cleared to approach the pavilion today, so unless you’re a fool or an idiot, you’d better have a damned good reason to want to drive that thing in here.”

The speaker was a man who materialized from the shadows of a supply tent which sat on the outskirts of the clearing. He had already reloaded the light crossbow that he pointed at Johns, menacing the frightened driver. It was clear to William that the visible guards patrolling the clearing weren’t the only ones watching out for Kal’Necroth’s safety.

“What is the meaning of this,” Metzger roared as he jumped out of the back of the wagon. The silent guard quickly pivoted his crossbow to point at the preened Captain.

“The meaning of this,” the guard gestured with his crossbow, “is that I’m feeling in a very lethal mood and unless you give me a reason not to shoot your ass, that mood isn’t going to change.”

“Don’t any of you peons know who the hell I am?” Metzger, obviously outraged at being stopped for a second time, took a step towards the guard. but immediately stopped as the safety lever of the crossbow disengaged.

“You’re a hair’s breadth away from being a pin-cushion unless the next words out of your mouth give me some GODDAMNED satisfaction.” The guard punctuated the end of his sentence by thrusting the crossbow towards Metzger. From his vantage point, William saw Metzger’s armor of self-importance crack as he realized that the guard wasn’t going to be cowed by his bombast. Face blazing with anger, Metzger pulled out identification papers and held them out for the guard.

“I’m Captain Aaron Metzger,” Metzger hissed, “head of Lord Kal’Necroth’s re-supply operation in the Maersk Forest. I am bringing a valuable prisoner to the pavilion at our Lord’s request.”

The guard, never lowering his crossbow or taking his eyes off of Metzger, nodded to a second guard that had appeared out of the shadows next to the wagon. The second guard approached Metzger, scanned the papers that he had presented, made a circuit of the wagon, and then nodded to the first guard before returning to the shadows. The first guard pointed his weapon away from Metzger and engaged the safety lever on his crossbow.

“Your paperwork is in order, Captain,” said the guard. “You are to proceed to the attending room at the south face of the pavilion. You will not be allowed to bring your transport with you, unfortunately, and will have to escort your prisoner to the pavilion on foot.”

“Absolutely not,” Metzger replied, his arrogant anger returning now that the guard’s weapon was no longer trained on him. “I have valuable supplies in that wagon that I must ensure are properly handled and delivered to their proper destination.”

“Don’t worry about the wagon or the supplies, sir. I will see that attendants are summoned to ensure that they are properly distributed.”

“Let me get this straight. You stop a superior officer, threaten his life, and then tell him how to conduct his business? I think you presume far too much, soldier. Who is your supervisor?” Metzger coolness had returned behind a cruel smirk.

“I report directly to Divian Vallos, the head of Lord Kal’Necroth’s security, sir,” the guard’s voice remained neutral, though his body language suggested annoyance with the preening officer in front of him. “Standard procedure dictates that no one may approach the pavilion without challenge. If you have a problem with the way that Lord Kal’Necroth’s safety is being handled, I suggest you take that up with Divian.”

“Of course I have no problem with ensuring Lord Kal’Necroth’s safety,” Metzger raised his voice to ensure that any random onlookers would be able to hear his statement. “I was merely suggesting that perhaps you should be more cognizant of who your superiors are.” Metzger turned away from the guard as if he had determined that he would waste no more time discussing such matters with someone of such low rank. Metzger casually adjusted the sleeves of his coat as he returned to the wagon.

“Hawrer, Johns, prepare the prisoner to be taken to the pavilion on foot.”

[Revenant]

The first sensation to come back to William was the jack hammering staccato of his heartbeat, beating like the rhythm of a frenzied drum. He next recognized the panting sound of his hot, ragged breaths that stung chapped lips that were only now beginning to heal from the punishment that the demonic power exacted. Shaking his head to clear the last of the red haze from his vision, William braced himself for the inevitable migraine that followed his rage frenzy. William focused his concentration on slowing his breathing, and bringing back the calm center of the man inside the demon.

After regaining control of his senses William took time to survey the result of his latest episode. The forest cabin had been transformed into an abattoir, and William was at the center of it all. Spatters of gore and unidentifiable chunks of meat and bone splashed over every inch of wooden surface. The source of the gore was the unidentifiable lump at his feet, which William vaguely recalled had one time been a woman. The details of his slaughter were always hazy when he fully lost himself to the rage.

Did I even resist this time? William questioned himself but honestly couldn’t remember. The transition from build-up to frenzy was often so subtle that he didn’t notice his descent until it was too late. On the other hand, the rages often came so swiftly that there was little he could do to resist. Even when he was able to resist the lure of violence, the effort required to deny the demon was too much to for his to bear. It felt like trying to stem the flood from a cracking dam, he could plug one hole, but more would invariable spring up and all too soon he would drown.

“Whoever you were,” William addressed the grisly remain on the floor in front of him, “I’m sorry.”

*****

William was surprised that he could still walk after the beating that he had received and the week of inactivity that followed, yet here he was, stumbling towards Kal’Necroth’s pavilion.

Not like I have much choice, William thought as Johns and Hawrer pulled him along. That every inch of his body still screamed in protest a week after the healing had started was a testament to the severity of the beating he had received in Hunston. William almost welcomed whatever way Kal’Necroth had for ending his misery.

The attending room in Kal’Necroth’s pavilion was oppressive. Thick curtains hung just inside the heavy tent flap and blocked all light save for a soft yellow-orange glow that came from the dozens of low-burning candles that had been set into a twisted chandelier. Cloying smoke from incense burners stifled the air, making William’s head spin. Though the thick smoke made clear breathing impossible, William found that the dizzying effect produced by the incense dulled the throbbing pain throughout his body, a fortunate side effect.

William took his time studying the interior of the room and was calculating the possibility of somehow knocking the chandelier down and setting fire to the tent when a pale, wispy haired man pushed through the crimson curtain folds in the back of the room.

“Master Metzger, what a pleasant surprise,” the man’s voice was low and breathy, like William imagined a snake’s voice would be, “I don’t think Lord Kal’Necroth expected you quite so soon after he detailed your last assignment.”

“Lord Kal’Necroth’s orders aren’t to be taken lightly, Vermul.” William could almost see Metzger’s pride swell at the chance to show his superiority. “I deemed it necessary to carry out my orders with the utmost efficiency. After all, it wouldn’t do to keep Lord Kal’Necroth waiting.”

“As ever, you remain one of Lord Kal’Necroth’s most loyal subjects Master Metzger/” Vermul turned his attention to William. “I take it, then, that this prisoner is the man that was giving you such trouble?”

“Indeed. The so-called Minske Phantom turned out to be nothing more than a pathetic peasant with a grudge.”

“From what I understand, this peasant was able to evade capture and exact quite a toll on your men, Master Metzger. Hardly pathetic,” Metzger’s eyes narrowed slightly at the verbal jab, “though I do believe that it was this very thing which piqued Lord Kal’Necroth’s interest in your Phantom.” Vermul circled around William slowly, observing and storing information about the woodsman.

“I doubt Lord Kal’Necroth is going to be pleased about the state of his delivery,” Vermul returned to Metzger once his inspection was complete.

“I know he isn’t in the best condition, but as ordered, no permanent harm was done to him,” Metzger’s reply was defensive and William could tell that the proud man had once more put up his shield of false bravado.

“Indeed, Master Metzger, I’m certain that you would not dare to step out of line with Lord Kal’Necroth’s wishes over something as trivial as a peasant that had shamed you,” Vermul’s continued to bait Metzger, whose face now flushed crimson as he shook with anger. Metzger started to retort, but was cut short by a soul wrenching scream behind the curtains.

“It appears that Lord Kal’Necroth has finished with his meeting,” Vermul’s causal response to the horrifying sound was in complete contrast to the sickened expressions of the other men in the room. “As pleasant as our conversation has been, Master Metzger, it would not do to keep our Lord waiting.”

“N-no, of course not.”

“Very well, please follow me.” Vermul turned to look at William just before he disappeared back into the curtained doorway, “do try not to disappoint.”

[Revenant]

Though he regretted each of the lifeless bodies that his frenzy left in his wake, William had long ago stopped mourning the lives that he had taken. He had caused and experienced so much death in his twisted existence that he had been left emotionally cut off from the results of his actions.

Just how long has it been since I truly felt anything for one of them? William questioned. Looking at the corpse at his feet, the corpse of a lone woman in the woods who had died alone and in terror, William realized that this time was different.

So soon after he had sifted through the memories of his dear Rebecca’s passing, William found that he was unable to shut this woman’s death away as another random casualty of his murderous nature.

I can’t just leave her here as food for the scavengers, William decided, and set to work.

*****

The room that Kal’Necroth used to conduct his arcane experiments could easily have doubled as a torture chamber. Three small globes hung from the ceiling, casting pale light throughout the room and causing the shadows to dance and twist in a way that William fancied was like the spirits of Kal’Necroth’s past victims warding off those who would tempt their fate. Two heavy tables dominated the room; a thousand dark stains forever seeped into the pores of the dark hardwood. A third tool was covered in odd tools and implements of Kal’Necroth’s arcane testing, various powders and vials of shimmering liquids, which bubbled and smoked in the stale, oppressive air. William tried to take in every detail of the room as he was pushed through the crimson curtains that separated this room from the previous one. His eyes flitted from surface to surface, but try as he might to focus his attention anywhere else; William’s eyes were continuously drawn back to one thing, the dark sorcerer Kal’Necroth.

William had envisioned that Kal’Necroth would be a thin, weedy man with a body that was wasted from hours spent pouring over arcane tomes and magical research, with a storybook villain’s coif of slicked, greasy black hair and goatee. Instead, William found himself staring at an unassuming who was only slightly shorter than himself in both height and frame. Kal’Necroth was muscular, but in a way that suggested a lifetime of physical exertion rather than the concentrated musculature of a bodybuilder, though the hints of softness around his edges were evidence of advancing age and a slowing metabolism. Likewise, the sorcerer’s square jaw was clean shaven and his brown hair that hung loose and tangled around his shoulders. The dark circles under Kal’Necroth’s eyes were the only thing that about the man that William’s imagination had correctly foretold, though William figured they were more likely caused by extreme fatigue and less by the eldritch evil which coursed through his veins. And yet despite his ordinary appearance, an air of dominance, power, and menace hung around Kal’Necroth like a shroud, and William knew that this man was capable of hideous, horrifying things.

“My lord,” Vermul coughed slightly, drawing Kal’Necroth’s attention, “you commanded that you be notified when the next subject arrived. I have Captain Metzger of the supply division here, and he has brought the captive that you demanded.”

“Captain Metzger,” Kal’Necroth turned to face his subordinate. The sorcerer’s voice was light and strong, a firm, determined tone with an almost friendly undercurrent. “What excellent timing you have, as I just finished with my last captive, which disappointingly was an utter failure.” Kal’Necroth gestured to a smattering of ashes that drifted from one of the experiment tables. “Given what you briefed to my head of logistics, I thought your completion of this task would take significantly longer to accomplish than this. I congratulate you…” Kal’Necroth’s words hung in the air as his eyes shifted from Metzger to William’s battered form.

“What is the meaning of this?” Kal’Necroth exclaimed with a roar that no longer held any trace of warmth or conspiratorial friendship. The assembled group, William included, cowed as the hard exclamation scythed through them. “I commanded he be brought to me unharmed,” Kal’Necroth whirled on Metzger, anger flaring off him in palpable waves. “Is this what you call unharmed Captain?”

“M-my lord,” Metzger muttered weakly, folded inward before the angry sorcerer. “I ensured no permanent harm was done to the man, as you ordered. These marks are merely superficial ailments that my men left in retribution for their comrades. They wanted …”

“I care nothing for what your men wanted!” Kal’Necroth erupted. Kal’Necroth’s hands came up, twitching, seemingly of their own accord when his attention turned to the two mercenaries that stood guard over William. Kal’Necroth’s anger vanished as swiftly as it had come.

“The situation is not a total loss, Captain, and your men here have provided me with a solution.” Kal’Necroth relaxed and ran a hand through this tangled hair. Regaining his composure, the sorcerer gestured, beckoning at Hawrer and Johns. “You there, come forward.”

The color drained from Hawrer and Johns faces as Kal’Necroth called them forth. The men stammered and looked back and forth from each other to Kal’Necroth, fear and awe overriding their ability to act. Kal’Necroth’s demeanor showed mounting annoyance in the men’s indecision and just before he exploded a second time, Metzger stepped back and ushered Hawrer and Johns forward.

“Now tell me, gentlemen,” Kal’Necroth regarded the two mercenaries. “do you know why I placed such importance on the man you captured after Captain Metzger briefed me of his existence?” The warmth and friendliness returned to Kal’Necroth’s voice, though it did little to ease the men that he addressed.

“N-no, m-m’lord.” Hawrer answered.

“Wouldn’t presume to know y-your business, s-sir,” Johns added. Kal’Necroth nodded, expecting no other answer.
“Let me enlighten you,” Kal’Necroth began to pace around the mercenaries. He walked with an easy, casual gait with one arm hanging loosely while he gestured with the other. “You men fight for my army, yes? You fight because the money is good, the spoils are rich, and you have the opportunity to inflict violence on those who are weaker than yourself. These are all good reasons to join me, and most of my army is made up of men like you.

“Without men like you, my army would be nothing. I need you cold, ruthless cutthroats who are willing to jump at my command and kill my enemies without hesitation, at least, as long as I pay well enough.” Mirth twinkled in Kal’Necroth’s eyes.

“My needs for my research, however, are entirely different from the needs of my army. Tell me, do you know why this man fights?” The two stunned mercenaries could only murmur and shake their heads that they did not.

“This man,” Kal’Necroth gestured at William with a broad swipe of his arm, “fights because his grief has given way to pure, unbridled hate and that hate has fueled a need in him for death that that demands vengeance and bloodshed. This fury, this raw desire for destruction is what I need.” Kal’Necroth’s words rose in pitch as he finished his statement, building himself into a state of excited fervor.

“I have long searched for a man with fury that was pure enough. I have tested many men and found each and every one to be wanting.” Kal’Necroth whirled on the motionless mercenaries, the madness in his eyes unmistakable.

“You see, my work requires an individual of almost inhuman emotional fortitude to complete.” Kal’Necroth swooped towards Hawrer and Johns suddenly, until scarcely an inch separated them. “This is not what you have delivered to me. What you delivered is merely the broken shell of a man I might once have used. I need this man to be whole and vibrant. I need him to be capable of summoning every last ounce of fury within him. I need…” Kal’Necroth’s hand shot out like a viper, fingertips striking Hawrer and Johns in the chest, “… life.”

[Revenant]

William labored as the minutes turned to hours, working to convert the cabin from a bloody resting place to a suitable funeral pyre for the woman he had slain. Utilizing a broken piece of furniture, William lit a makeshift torch with the flint and steel from his travelling pack. Burning torch in hand, he approached the fruits of his labor.

The dry summer kindling took to flame with only the slightest hesitation, and soon enough the pyre burned high into the evening sky. William wasn’t the smartest or most learned man, but somehow he knew that his act was symbolic, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what it meant. The heat of the long summer day had conjured the spectre of his past, memories washing him along a twisting river, and as he watched the flames course through the structure, a single word escaped his lips.

“Rebecca.”

*****

Hawrer and Johns tried to jerk away from the strike of Kal’Necroth’s fingers, but an unseen force bound them, anchoring the three men together. Swirling light flowed from Hawrer and Johns, rapidly gathering in around the points of Kal’Necroth’s fingertips. As the swirling light built in intensity a change came over the two mercenaries. It looked to William as if the mercenaries were aging extremely rapidly, healthy pink flesh turning shriveled and sallow and in a matter of seconds William’s captors collapsed into twisted, lifeless heaps.

Kal’Necroth whirled on William, wispy light engulfing both of his hands. William struggled, but the chains held his bruised form in a tight embrace. Left with no other option William closed his eyes and prayed that he wouldn’t cry out as the swirling energy touched him. The sensation that coursed through him was unlike anything William could have expected. It felt to William as if everything inside of him were being run through pleasantly cool spring water and when it was over William was completely refreshed. William opened his eyes and was amazed to see that all signs of the physical abuse he had received were gone. He was whole and complete, feeling stronger and healthier than he had ever felt. Kal’Necroth’s face shone with mirth, while Metzger’s face was a mask of shock and disbelief.

“What did you do to me?” William asked.

“I gave you new life,” Kal’Necroth laughed as he gestured to the shriveled bodies on the floor behind him, “their life. It feels so wonderful, doesn’t it?” Kal’Necroth threw his arms wide and waltzed in a slow circle and William had no doubt that the sorcerer had used this magic before. Laughing, Kal’Necroth finished his singular dance facing away from William.

I’ll give him a taste of life, William thought. Fueled by the surge of life that flowed through him, William pulled hard on the chains that bound him and leapt at the sorcerer. As he sprung, William pulled the chains taut, hoping to wrap them around the sorcerer’s muscular neck. But just before William could wrap his arms around Kal’Necroth, a wrecking ball slammed into him. Metzger threw himself into William, knocking the woodsman aside at the last second. The two men landed in a heap, William wrapping his chains around Metzger’s throat. If he couldn’t kill Kal’Necroth, at least he could kill Metzger.

Kal’Necroth turned, laughing, to regard the men that writhed on the floor. With a word and a gesture, William was seized away by an arcane force and lifted into the air, held firm in Kal’Necroth’s grip.

“Wonderful,” cried Kal’Necroth in joy. “None of them has yet tried to kill me. I have a feeling that you will be the one to finally pass my test.”

“Let me free and I’ll show you what a prize I really am.” William shot back at Kal’Necroth in a voice that dripped venom.

“I’ve no doubt you would try, but I have other means of defense at my disposal than my loyal minions.” Kal’Necroth gestured to Metzger, who nursed a bruised windpipe. “I was once a mere demonologist, bartering trinkets and favors with the denizens of the lower planes for a modicum of power. When you deal with the devil, you had best learn to keep yourself safe.” Kal’Necroth smiled with smug satisfaction at William.

“Is that your plan, to barter me for demons?” William tried to keep his tone defiant, but a hint of fear now edged his voice.

“Hah,” Kal’Necroth loosed a guttural laugh. “Only in the vaguest sense. Demons exist insubstantially, only able to act in the physical world by the intervention of mortals. Through my studies in demonology I found that it is possible to bind one of these demonic spirits to a mortal host. The process is quite lethal to the host, the demonic spirit consumes the soul upon entry and the body is burned to ash by the demon’s power in a matter of a few days. Still, they make good shock troops, as the Amran army had found out.”

“So I am to be a weapon for your war with Amra?” William asked.

“Oh yes. You will be the weapon that will turn the tide of battle in my favor. Amra will fall and you will be my herald.” Kal’Necroth’s eyes shone with a hysteric light.

“You’re crazy. Like you said, the demon will consume me in a few days. That’s not nearly long enough to win the war.”

“And that’s where you are wrong,” Kal’Necroth snapped back and then walked across the room to pick up a heavy tome from the table with arcane equipment. “And I have this to prove it.

“This is one of the tomes of magic penned by the ancients of Amra. The ancient Amrans knew more about magic than almost anyone living today, and through a lifetime of study and bartering with demons, I have unlocked all of the secrets held within this volume. One of those secrets is a way to remove the soul from a man and replace it with a spirit of undeath. The spirit infuses the flesh with the essence of the unloving and draws on the realm of death to restore damage done to the physical host. I will be able to bind a demonic spirit to you without fear of its power consuming your body, and by binding your displaced soul in a vessel, I can maintain full control over you. I will have done what not even the ancient Amrans could have done and created the perfect soldier for my war.”

William could only stare in mute horror. Truly, as Metzger said, this was a fate far worse than death. While he watched, Kal’Necroth threw back his head and howled.

“You shall be my Revenant.”

[Revenant]

The cabin was burning, a funeral pyre to both the woman who William had slain and the memories of the events which had led to his rebirth as Kal’Necroth’s Revenant. He watched as the kindling caught and spread the dancing flames around the cabin. Most of the wood was dry, but enough green remained that William could hear it sizzle and hiss, as if the cabin were whispering a low eulogy. A swirling cloud of smoke bore the remains high into the air, an offering to unfeeling gods.

“Oh Rebecca,” William lamented in a slow sad voice while he watched the cabin burn. “Surely you must hate me know just as much as I hated them men who took your life. I have failed you a thousand times over, but I promise that one day I will find a way to break away from this life, to control the violence within me.”

William stayed until his only memory was the warm ashes which swirled in the hot summer breeze.

[MetalDrago]

STORY

Continuity (7/10) ~ You describe the actions leading up to his current, cursed form. Since this is the beginning of your current predicament, the fact that you don't have any back story from before all this really does nothing to detract from the overall story. So, overall, it was good, but nothing fantastic.

Setting (6/10) ~ You describe the background and surroundings of the world, but to a very light degree, almost as if it were an afterthought. When you were describing the burning cabin in the woods, for a good while, it was as if it weren't even there. Your descriptions of William breaking through the door, and of the cradle burning in the background.

Pacing (6/10) ~ You kept me reading. It was a very interesting read, but the constant shift between slow and fast paced was a little wearying. I understand why you did all that, describing his slow descent into madness, and then this overt control by a demon later in his life, but the transitions could have been a little smoother.


CHARACTER ~

Dialogue (8/10) ~ Your dialogue was very well-developed in my own personal opinion, by far your best score in the entire thread. Now, the reason it struck me so deeply, was when William was beating Berenger's face in and describing how much Rebecca had meant to him, and more than that, what lengths he would go to to avenge her death. There isn't much you can really do to improve on what you've written here, as far as dialogue. You kept it natural, and believable. A very good job.

Action (7/10) ~ The actions performed by each character were believable in many cases. There were a couple of out of character moments for some of them, but I won't go into details. If you want the specific instances, feel free to ask me via PM. But overall, you kept the actions believable and true to the characters.

Persona (6/10) ~ You depicted the emotions of your characters very well, giving thought to each of the emotional states of the characters, while still working with the limited omniscient view. You only show the thoughts of a single man, but register the reactions and his personal thoughts on their personalities very well. William is well developed, but missing a little of the emotional depth you find with many haunted souls. Describe his emotions a little bit more, and he'll become an extremely good character to read about.


WRITING STYLE ~

Mechanics (7/10) ~ A few easily rectified mistakes here and there, a missing 's' or out of place word, but overall well held together.

Technique (6/10) ~ You hold to the ideal of simple and concise. You don't use very many things like alliteration or foreshadowing in your posts. You don't do very much that's really stylized, but it makes your posts extremely easy to read.

Clarity (6/10) ~ Your posts, for the most part, are clear. I didn't get lost, but there were a couple of parts where I took a double take. Just clear things up just a bit, and you'll score really well in this in the future.




Wild Card (4/10)







Total ~ 63/100



Revenant receives 897 EXP and 240 GP

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!