Grim Views

Dozens of torches guided the eight travelers –seven looked of the mercenaries hired, and the last of them a bound elven male– towards the back of the cavern. The struggles of the elf were in vain as he was easily dragged by the well-muscled men. The leader of their little group, a man calling himself Horos, raised his hand suddenly, which halted the group.

“Do you hear that?” the leader called out. The group focused their attention ahead of them, buy only darkness greeted them. Suddenly, a small figure approached from the shadows; the men could not help but laugh as a small pug approached them. They lowered their weapons, but were greeted by a figure from behind as well.

“Good EVE!” Cornelius called out loudly, startling the group. The men turned quickly, weapons in hand; Pugsworth yipped in anger as the men raised their weapons to his master. Horos, being the most steady of the group - although startled as he was– greeted the priest.

“Ye' best not startle me men, pries'.” That accent had bothered Cornelius, but pleasantries had to be exchanged.
”I agree dear Horos. They are a bit jumpy today.” He walked around the men, paying no attention to the Elf, but rather the smallest of the mercenaries. The dwarf he gazed at amused him, for he was clearly scared, yet gripped his rifle as if he intended to use it. “Now now young Dwarf,” The priest approached quickly and grabbed the man by the shoulder, “We mustn’t worry ourselves. You are safe within my home, but we must be going!.”

In his excitement, Cornelius pranced forward and urged the men to follow. Pugsworth motioned to the men to follow, a thing that confused them, not knowing how the canine knew such a command.

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After passing the last dozen torches leading into the cavern; the men were greeted by a room lit with hundreds of candles. The room had spanned nearly fifty meters long and wide, with a ceiling nearly half of that. Makeshift beams and unusual metals held the underground structure intact. Littered throughout the room were strange metallic objects and numerous sharp instruments. Those dragging the elf eyed the wooden cage and tossed the elf into it without hesitation. The bound man hit the ground hard, but remained conscious.

“It seems you found a room for our guest.” The priest jested as he walked into the room. Cornelius wandered about the room looking for something; it appeared that way–it is always difficult to tell what the man is truly thinking. “Pugsworth?” The priest called out, and was soon answered by the small yipping of his friend. The small pug drug a bloodied garment with him as he stood by his master's side.

“You read my mind.” Cornelius knelt down and retrieved the bloody apron, fastening it tightly around himself. “Now gentlemen,” he wasted no time once he was dressed properly “We have our groom,” then motioning to the prone elven male, “But what is a groom without his bride?”

Disappearing behind an earthen wall, the priest soon returned, pulled a large cage with him. While the cage was metal and spanned a solid ten feet in all directions, the wheels assisted the priest quite well in its transportation. Inside the cage was the bride he had spoken of; the woman was heavily bound and strapped rather diligently to the bars, rendering her almost immobile.

“Why ye' strap the wo'men down an' not the man?” Horos's accent once again stinging Cornelius's ears, but he did his best to ignore the pain.

“Have you heard of the Sha that inhabit this land?” Cornelius moved toward a small vial on a nearby table. “The land feeds off the fear of its inhabitants,” after picking up the vial, the priest made his way towards the woman. “It siphons the greediest nature in all of us, it is fueled by our anger towards each other.” Cornelius stood behind her and tipped her head backwards; he pulled her cloth gag down and emptied the contents into her throat. “But the hatred, that is the most important.”

As the priest placed the gag back into her mouth, he made his way towards the elf across from her. Poking at the man to wake him, Cornelius motioned Pugsworth back towards the woman.

“Ye do wha' ye want with tha' elves,” Horos interrupted once more, “Where's de' gold?”

“You will receive your payment when you've done your job!” The priest almost lost his temper as the accent burned his ears again–ever so sensitive were the ears of Cornelius. He made his way out of the room and walked towards the cavern entrance.

His instructions were much simpler now.

“When she awakes, kill the male, and you will see why she is restrained.”

After disappearing towards the entrance, the priest quickly extinguished a few of the wall torches; he wished to see his work unfold rather than simply enjoy the aftermath.

“Pugsworth, go find fetch the device.” The two of them shared a nod, and the canine was on his way.

Inside of the room, the woman was beginning to regain her senses. The mercenaries fought amongst themselves on the situation at hand.

“Do we shoot 'im when he wake or do we wait?” One of them asked, “Or do we wait for them both to wake up?”

“The priest wan's them to suffer,” Horos chimed in, lowering his rifle and grabbing his knife instead. “Twisted he is, but he's payin'.”

As the men argued, the woman groaned as she came to her senses. The hazy figure across from her looked familiar, and it was not until her vision was clear that she knew it was her husband.

She called out in their strange tongue, but her voice was muffled, and the men turned immediately.

“Well now, look whose awake.” Horos glanced at the woman, spitting on her. He ordered his men to remove her husband from his cage and dragged him in front of her. Tears rolled down her cheek as the man's face was pressed against the cage.

Cornelius watched the savage nature of the mercenaries, “They are actually enjoying this?” Soon his companion arrived, dragging a large metal contraption; it had the barrel of a blunderbuss, but strange switches adorned the weapon, and a strange panel and a glass tube inhabited the rear of it. “Well done Pugsworth,” and with a good deal of petting later, the priest hefted the weapon upwards and placed the strap over his shoulder. “Now we wait.”

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The foreign tongue was impossible to make out for the mercenaries, but they seemed not to care. The muffled cries of the woman increased as Horos drew a knife and placed it at the mans' throat. Once the knife was at his throat, death followed; Horos ripped the blade across his throat as he pushed his preys face into the bars of the cage.

The men laughed as the woman struggled in vain to rescue her husband, but the woman’s eyes had shed their last tears as her husband fell lifeless to the floor, and the priest looked on as her being was being consumed with hatred.

The bars of her cage rattled as the elf struggled from her bindings. Laughter turned to fear as one of her arms freed itself from the bonds that held it. Cornelius looked on in awe as he felt her being consumed by hatred; her form filled with darkness, growing ever more so we she staggered past her husband to the cornered mercenaries. The smallest of them let off his rifle, but the shot did not stop her advance. What may have been an elf was no more than a beast now, a creature of pure hatred, and the priest giggled with excitement.

Limbs were torn from bodies and used as clubs, weapons were broken by her bare hands, and the small band of mercenaries were lifeless within minutes. All that was left was the creature they had created; so consumed in her rage, she did not notice the man she loved, and crushed was was left of his face with her heel.


“Well now my dear, it is good to see your true self.” The priest emerged from the shadows, weapon pointed carefully at the elf. Before she could tear the life from him, a large beam of light exited the weapon and tore its way into her being.

“The more you fight me, the more this will hurt.”

((Tugsworth is a crazypants!))

It was amusing to the priest to see the newly-created predator thrashing about in agony as he siphoned the sha essence from her.

“Amazing isn't it Pugsworth.” Cornelius turned towards his friend and mused about the apparatus. “I got the idea from an old mote extractor...” Pugsworth barked loudly, and the priest turned towards the elf; While distracted in conversation, the elf nearly freed herself from the beam of the extractor.

“Thank you Pugsworth!” The elf once again writhing in agony as the siphoning continued. “Like I was saying,” he turned once again towards the pug, “If it works on the elements, why not people?” Another bark turned his attention again towards the elf.

“Bah, Pesky elf.” The priest slowly walked towards the elf, apparatus still holding on her. “Do you not appreciate this instrument of science?”
While he was in close proximity, he turned the machine off for a moment and struck her in the gut with it, then proceeded to extract the essence once she lay on the ground. “Almost finished!” He spouted in excitement, eying the small glass container fixated on the back of the device; in his excitement, Cornelius did not see the object forming within the apparatus.

“If we can siphon enough sha energy into a smaller object my dear Pugsworth,” he struck the elf first, turned the apparatus back on, then turned towards his friend, “Then perhaps we can learn to control it.”

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Horos struggled his way out of the pile of corpses that covered him. Inch by inch, limb by severed limb tossed aside, he moved through those once his allies and saw their killer. A hand suddenly fell on to his ankle, frightening the man, who quickly covered his mouth in terror.

“Wha' terrible thing coulda caused this?”

Horos felt the weight of the pile shift strangely, and even though he did not frequent residence within piles of corpses, he knew he was almost out. Oddly enough, when the priest and elf came into view, Horos wriggled himself back into the pile; he even moved one of his allies arms over his head to conceal himself further.

Wriggling as he did, Horos felt something slide past the limbs and into his hand; the familiar feel of the wooden stock had to of been one of his mens' rifles. Cowardly as Horos truly was, he pulled the weapon towards him; he carefully motioned the barrel of the rifle out of the corpse pile, and took aim at the priest. He tried to focus his aim, but was startled as the priest's runt of a dog glared at him.

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“You see...” Pugsworth barked in interruption, but the priest was not to be distracted, “Imagine the power we could bring against our enemies....”

Pugsworth suddenly dashed towards the pile of dead mercenaries. Smoke and fire shot from the stack of dead and a projectile emerged from it. Cornelius dropped the apparatus and hurried towards his felled friend; the glass section containing the sha crystal shattered in the process.

“Pugsworth!” He shouted in fear.

Cornelius stood over his dog who now lay motionless; his eyes traveled towards the pile, which now moved from the terrified mercenary shaking within. Horos eyed the priest with morbid curiosity as he watched him calmly walk towards a workbench, but soon he was filled with fear as the man walked back even quicker, sharp item in hand.

Cornelius thrust the object numerous times into the pile of corpses until Horos joined his friends in the afterlife. Frenzied as he was towards the man, Cornelius did not see his companion struggle as he crawled towards the sha crystal.

Pugsworth felt the strength leaving his being as he made his way towards the purple object; rest as he knew he must, a strange calling came from the crystal. The crystal needed a vessel to survive, and it could not discern from man or beast when it entered the injured canine: all it required was a vessel.

((I love this))

((OMG Pugsworth! Yesssssssss..... ; 3

excellent writing too-'he did not frequent residence within piles of corpses' LMAO ))

Days had come and gone, yet the health of his friend had not returned. Strong as he was, Pugsworth had never been shot before. Surprising as it was, the priest had never experimented in shooting his friends; perhaps it was something that should be remedied for future use, but it was not the time to think of nonsense.

The chocolates he had been force-feeding his canine companion seemed to make him worse. While the vomiting and diarrhea grew annoying and the cave filled with the smell of his horrible innards, the heart-shaped box of chocolates clearly said “Get Well Soon” – something else that will be remedied should they not work.

“You ate the crystal, didn't you Pugsworth?” The priest did not need for him to answer; besides the obvious glow clearly showing through his stomach wound, the canine was always a curious creature.
“Oh well my friend,” he patted his head gently as he noticed his friend sleeping. “I will get it out for you.”

The priest could not fathom why he had made his way over to the workbench, or even why he held the sharp blade in his hand, but he approached his friend with the intent of gutting him for his prize.

“Why did you eat the crystal Pugsworth?” The asked his pet, “You know of my intrigue in the matter, and this cursed obsession.”

The priest kicked the elven woman, still unconscious, “I even brought this filthy creature into my house.”

Pugsworth could sense the priests' anger and desperation, but his strength had faded, and he knew his time was over. Desperate as he was to cough up the object and rid himself of its' evil, the last remnants of his life had spent the last bit of it, and with the last gasp of air, the canine collapsed on the table, never to awake again.

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The priest dropped the dagger and stood motionless in front of his dog.

“Pugsworth?”

The priest ran over to his friend, and after sifting through the filth that surrounded him, he inspected the wound; while gangrenous and poorly treated, the glow was gone. Shake as he might, the filth only spear around the cave, but the crystal did not dislodge itself from his friend.

“What am I doing? This is no way to treat a friend.” As the priest dropped Pugsworth to the hard cave floor, he realized that a true friend would treat his deceased friend with respect.

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The flimsy wool bag that held Pugsworth was thrown into the river, just as his father was and his fathers' father was. Never one to worry about the past, the priest skipped back towards his cave, but he couldn't feel something along the lines of regret and anger at a lost friend, but he wasn't sure what it was...perhaps it was hunger. Nevertheless, Tugsworth was one to take something unfortunate, and turn it to his advantage.

He dipped a small strange shard he found )after cleaning the filth off the table), into some ink and grabbed a nearby parchment.


Dearest Greebo,

I have spent some time thinking of that which could be sacrificed in order to rid myself of my past. Sadly, the last of my remaining life is now gone, and now I am yours. No more distractions are held within my heart now that my Pugsworth is gone from this world, and I wish for you to have this harness that made sure he did not run away in case he saw a cat.

I shall give it to you when next we meet in hopes that I can truly erase my past and be born anew.

Peace through Annihilation,

Cornelius



Upon placing the ink aside, the priest looked at the strange writing utensil in his hand, and went wide-eyed upon looking at its strange purple glow.

“YES!!!!,” He screamed.