Bloodshed
One of these days, I'll be pushed to far. And then, only then will we see what happens.
I stood over the pile of rotten meat that was a living, breathing human, not two minutes past. Reaching down, I grab ahold of the hilt of the blade. Trying to remove it is much too difficult, so I use one leg for extra support. The blade comes out, covered in rapidly drying gore.
****
It started not five minutes ago. Reclining in the back of the tavern, staring blankly at a torch on the wall. A rustling next to me, and I'm drawn back into my body, aware of the person next to me. His long black coat covers everything but his hands, and his face is shadowed by the brimmed hat he wears. Only his hands are visible, small, lithe. I watch as he darts them, in and out of each other. Uncaring of his distress, I stare back off into space.
A brute of a man approaches behind me, flanked by two cronies. Tall, muscular. Violent men. Similar enough to me. Drawing a deep breath, I can smell the putrid odor of this drunken beast, and dart a fist out. I may have been a bit presumtpuous. I had not removed the small blade I'd been flipping between my fingers, and can feel the bones split apart, under the force of my blade.
Aware suddenly of the orientation of the two cronies, I realize my mistake. The bloodlust is rising, the sentient and reasonable part of my brain failing in the wake of the crimson feast. The sorcerer throws his arms out to the side, a sickening crucifiction, and I realize that this has gone downhill.
Rolling off the stool, I come to a stop, raising my eyes in time to watch the two demons crawl down his arms. Faster than even I can react, they shift, molding, forming an unnatural carapace, and lash out. His speed is unbelievable, as I watch the beasts lash out, decapitating the man who i sat next to. Then, the ground drops away from me, and I fall.
Colors, shapes race past, blurring before I can even recognize. I feel the inner wall approaching, but I knwo I cannot halt this descent. With nothing left, I transform the fall into a dive, shattering the barrier into a million fragments.
The world appears, through the reddish haze. With barely a thought, I grasp the handle of my scimitar. The blade cleaves into the hand, and the carapace shatters. One demon down, before he had time to react. One to go.
Even as I reverse my stroke, I watch the other one ascend up the arm, encasing his neck. The coat and hat burn away, in an instant, and even I, in this accelerated state, can barely percieve it. An arm, strengthened by the demon's hatred, lashes out, lightly, and I slam through the wall. He descends like a storm, and I know in the little consciousness that remains, that even I can not face this. With knowledge, comes the freedom to act. I retreat back into my mind. I feel the synapses, can witness the sparks, one by one, as they control the basics of life. Working quickly, I grab ahold of one, and feel the energy crackle through my metaphysical being. Too much. Too much pain, too much life.
It must be ended.
Unaware, a distant observer, I sense the body react, beyond it's own abilities. The voices descend, eating away at my soul. Useless, monster, beast, vile, waste, murderer. Slicing through what is left, of all that is good, I use the hatred. I force it into one swing, one vile monstrous arc of chaos, and watch my hatred shift the demon. It flees, disappearing into the netherworld, and the sorcerer has not the time to react. The blade slices him in half, before he even realizes he is dead.
The other voices crowd in. Useless, waste, accident, mistake, vile, bile. The soul shakes, under the assault, and I pull all consciousness inside, for the battle, abandoning the body to it's whims, before I lose it all. I feel them slicing, cutting, shredding my very essence. The barrage last a second, an eternity. Too long, in a moment, and is gone. No way to tell how much time has passed.
****
I stood over the pile of rotten meat that was a living, breathing human, not two minutes past. Reaching down, I grab ahold of the hilt of the blade. Trying to remove it is much too difficult, so I use one leg for extra support. The blade comes out, covered in rapidly drying gore.
Awareness sinks in, and I turn, already dreading what I know I shall see. I am not disappointed. The town lay in ruins. Every storefront is shattered, and parts of many corpses surround myself. The town is painted red, for a moment of weakness, and I know I shall bear this pain through all my days. I turn my back, and walk forward, away from the chaos, and on with my life.
Return to the others.