No Rest for the Wicked

WARNING! This post contains graphically violent content.
Reader discretion is advised.


((The Village of Warfall))

--One Week Ago--

Ponce exited the house, his face content and not scrunched up in anger or annoyance as Horns was used to seeing it.

"I didn't hear any screaming. Did you kill them?"

Ponce looked over at him, "No, thankfully this step was significantly easier than the last. That frail moral compass of yours remains intact for now, but it will be called into question, eventually. I hope you'll make the right choice."

Horns glared at him, but in truth, he was always glaring. Though being born of tempered, slow-burning anger, Horns' expression, as well as his disposition all together were more constant and consistent.

The two walked in silence, Ponce, mind deep in plot, and Horns, taking in the scenery of the town. It was a humble little place and not overly expansive. Impassibly tall hills stood a ways away from the edge of the village. It was smoky and moody; quiet, comfortable, and far from the neon lights and distant gunshots Horns had grown used to. But he didn't want to think about Syn or the Hub right now. Horns turned to Ponce.

"What will you do with this book once you retrieve it?" He asked suddenly and sharply. Ponce turned eyebrows raised as he immediately began pondering the question.

"Being honest? I'm not sure yet."

Horns responded with a grunt, wordlessly walking aside the Sorcerer.

"This whole... game we're in, there are many at play. If I intend to beat them all out, I'm going to need every possible advantage at my side and in my favor. I'm sure there are those who would rather have this book destroyed, but with its connection to Kelmoran, it would likely provide invaluable power. If only we could find some way to harness it..."

Horns glared over at Ponce, "Not we. You."

"What?" Ponce asked, snapping out of his trance of thought.

"I have no desire to be part of your little chess game. If you need something killed, let me know, " Horns declared, lumbering off to wherever, leaving Ponce standing in place, confused and appalled. His brows furrowed as the Half-Tor walked away.

"I didn't need you in the first place! I've done this more times than I can count, it will be no different this time!" He shouted, looking like an absolute lunatic in the street. He caught himself, catching glimpses of disdain and suspicion.

"I have no time for this. I need to get this damn book from this Severos character..." Ponce reminded himself under his breath. Normally he would dirty his own hands, but he wanted not to do so unless it were absolutely necessary. No, he had in mind just the right person, his existence gleamed by a trip to the Dalen remnant, and whispers amongst the fiends who lived there of a legendary assassin cloaked in shadow. That would be more than perfect.


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((Osilon, Karavoss))

--Present--

Horns glared at the space that Ponce once occupied, and then looked to the book. As he held it, its blackened cover rubbing against his skin, he felt an unnatural tug, almost as if something were trying to pull him in. He could hear whispers at the edge of his mind.

open the book... behold... endless knowledge... unspeakable power...

Horns glared at the book and frowned.

"I have no desire for your power." he simply said, returning the book to a pouch at the side of his waist. Horns knew nothing of magic, but in battles of will, it seemed Horns' resolve was strong.

Alas, he needed to make himself scarce, in this alley with dead bodies about, though none of them right next to him, a number of counterproductive things could conceivably transpire. He left the alley and made his way to the outskirts of the town. He would travel to the warehouse on foot, where he knew Ponce was soon to be, as the Sorcerer needed to deal with the band of assassins he was working with, or something similar to that. Horns moved in long strides. According to what Ponce had told him, this Severos person was likely still around, Horns did not want nor need the headache of dealing with him.

Horns was swift for his size, taking the most advantage of the length of his legs, so he had covered quite a distance in only sixty seconds, however, he still had a bit further to go to break the limits of the city. Being so close, however Horns felt it was now safe to slow his pace, he would make it to his destination in enough time, of that he was sure. He continued, but then something caught his ear.

"Sir! Sir! Excuse me!" Horns frowned in annoyance as he turned.

"I don't have any time for..." He started, but was stunned by who this particular woman was, or rather, who she resembled. Ginger hair falling gracefully to her jawline, a range of different shades on her face in the form of spots and freckles, and rosy cheeks like cherry tarts. But her eyes, they were wrong, green instead of the endless ocean blue he had remembered. It wasn't her.

When would he stop seeing her damn face...

"What is it," Horns grumbled.

"Oh! You seem strong! These men, they took my purse! It had all of my belongings in it, come this way!" She turned and ran off, turning into a nearby alley. Horns sighed, he wanted to finish what he was about to say, about not having time for any of this, but she was already gone. 'Fine,' He thought, it would probably be quick. He followed where the woman had gone, and as he rounded the corner he saw her leaning against a nearby wall.

"Look! It's them! " She said, gesturing down the alley. Following her gaze, Horns spotted two delinquent-looking men digging through a purse. Horns looked to her, and then the men, before clenching his fists. He entered the dark alley, but his eyes saw the men clearly. He approached and carried with him menace. As if feeling it, the men turned, surprise on their faces.

"Give the woman her purse back, or I will make you."

The closer man stood, eyes wide, and then he laughed.

"You and what army, mate?"

Horns glared, "I assure you, I need no army."

The second man chuckled, though his bravado seemed borrowed from his ring leader.

"Get a load of this guy! You really think you can beat all of us? All by your lonesome?"

"All of you?" Horns said, almost amused by the duo's foolishness. But then he felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise. He turned, and realized what the two had meant. The ginger-haired woman held a dagger in her hand, "I call that axe he's carryin', I am the one that got him in here after all!"

A low grumble escaped from his throat, manifesting into smoke as it wafted out between his fangs and tusks.

"So that's what this is."

His fists clenched and his eyes narrowed, his blood pumping faster with anticipation.

"Fine then."

One of the duo charged in, Horns spun, thrusting a fierce elbow into the man. He moved swiftly, grabbing his head and slamming into the ground. Head snapping to the woman, he saw her charging, knife at the ready. He tracked her hand, and in the corner of his eye he could see his other assailant. He grabbed as she swung, gripping her arm and using her momentum against her, swinging her into the standing man.

He took a step back as the two gathered themselves, the standing man looked to the one on the ground, still mustering the strength to get back up, likely suffering from a concussion.

"He's fucking fast..." The standing man groaned, before moving to his injured friend.

"You okay?"

The ringleader swiped at him, "Get the fuck off me!" He looked up, anger in his bleeding face. Horns followed his gaze, and he saw eyes upon him.

"Get down here already!"

Horns frowned as thugs and ruffians skittered down from above like rats and roaches. It was becoming painfully clear that he was going to be very late.

No rest for the wicked, it seems.

The injured man pointed at Horns.

"You fucked up, mate. We're gonna kill you, and then we're taking your shit!"

With the threat of death, Horns gripped the handle of his axe, his throat beginning to burn as he prepared for what was sure to be a much bloodier round two. His eyes glanced over the girl, and he saw uncertainty in her eyes, she wasn't ready for what would come next.

Horns let out a breath. He heard footsteps behind him, and slashed around to his back, dropping into a crouch. Two men, one jumped back, the other wasn't so lucky.

"FUCK, watch his axe!" One of the men shouted, watching one of his own clutch his gut and fall over in a heap.

They approached cautiously. Horns counted them, six left minus the girl.

He lurched forward, kicking up and raising into a sprint. He saw wide eyes as he barreled through three men, sweeping with his arm for added effect. Skidding to a stop, he gripped his axe with both hands, light but deadly it was. The men were scrambling now. As one came to his feet, Horns stepped forward, swinging his axe and bringing it down with great force. The man saw it and rolled out of the way just in time. Horns growled, the axe blade struck the ground and bounced as the stone cracked. He moved with the bounce, raising his axe up and catching the man's chin with the flat side of his blade. He never stopped moving, grip firm, he breathed in and bellowed, a column of fire erupting from his mouth. The man screamed, as well as two behind him as they were set aflame. Horns pivoted, back foot around the lead, and spun, his axe revolving around himself and picking up speed. He swung it low, and released the full force of his swing into an upward slash. The blade ripped into the front man's chest, trailing up past his shoulder, splitting through his clavicle and flying upward, blood being flung with it into the air. Two more were burning, but they fell as they struggled with the flames. Three remained. With second in command at his side, the uninjured man charged. He was fast. Horns swung in an attempt to halt his approach, but he smiled and ducked, whipping under his axe and racing to a blind spot. Blade first, he stabbed into Horns' gut, and the Tor winced at the sharp pain. Looking down at him, he growled, loosening his grip on his axe with his right hand so the blade would slide down to just above his grasp. He grabbed the man's blade hand with his left, raised the axe, and swiped down with the blade. Crimson liquid spurted out of the open wound as his disembodied hand still gripped the blade in Horns' stomach. He looked at his other assailant, second in command was already swiping with his blade. Horns side-stepped the attack, wrapping his left arm around the man's sword arm and pulling him in. He ripped the blade and hand out from himself, stabbing with force into the man's neck and twisting. His eyes went wide, but Horns didn't release until he went limp. When they glazed over, he dropped him. He gazed over the handless man, who had fallen to the ground in shock as he fruitlessly tried to quell his wound's bleeding. Horns approached him, and he looked up, trapped in a daze of pain and fear. Horns growled, raising his foot and slamming his boot into the man's face. He heard a sickening crack as the man's head twisted unnaturally, giving way to the Half-Tor's superior force. He fell over, lifeless like a rag doll. Horns' burning eyes turned to the ringleader and the girl. The ringleader, either stunned with fear or abhorrently foolish, had yet to move. They had openings to escape, but Horns could see why he had yet to move. His eyes were filled not with fear, but with rage.

"What the hell are you!" He shouted, still clutching his blade.

"An army." Horns simply answered.

The man shook his head, and he started looking about the dead bodies. He was searching for something.

"Come on, brother! We have to go before he kills us too!"

The man shook his head again, and Horns turned to him fully as he did. The ringleader looked up, the look in his eyes didn't seem completely sane. He raised from the ashes of his fallen a crossbow and lined up a shot.

"Army!? I'll show you a fucking army!"

Horns lurched forward, but just as he moved, a bolt was fired and thudded into his chest. He stumbled back at the force, rage in his eyes as the man loaded the crossbow once more.

"Stop it!" The girl shouted, "Let's go! He's going to kill you! If we run now, we might make it!"

"NO! He just rips through our people like that, and you want me to just let the fucker walk away?! No, no, I'm going to make him pay!"

He fired another bolt, this one embedding itself in Horns' shoulder. He growled, clenching his fists. So he really would have to kill them all. He dashed forward, building up speed and momentum as he sprinted straight at the ring leader.

"COME ON THEN!" He shouted, standing his ground and firing another shot. It harmlessly wizzed over the Half-Tor as he picked up speed. The ringleader then knew he wouldn't have time to load another shot. He dropped the crossbow and braced. Horns kept coming and lowered his head, horns first like a bull.

"COME ON THE-"

With a resounding crash, Horns collided with him, slamming into the wall beyond and feeling his horns dig into flesh, then stone.

"NOOOOOO!" The girl screamed, running at Horns and stabbing into him with her dagger. The Half-Tor grunted, pulling his horns free of the wall and the corpse, and then standing straight, towering over the ginger-haired girl. She made to stab again, blinded by her own anger, and Horns grabbed her hand and ripped the blade from her grip, before shoving her so that she fell over. He winced, brows furrowed as blood, only some of it his, trickled down his shirt and pants. He glared at her, before turning, sobbing and seething as she laid on the cobbled ground.

"Why didn't you let him live!? Why!?"

Horns stopped and turned to look at her, "Your brother was a fool. He deserved his death. And if you follow in his footsteps, the same will be true for you."

Her head dropped in defeat as she laid there, surrounded by the bodies Horns had left.

The Half-Tor moved hurriedly to the edge of town and towards the woods, he was likely going to be late at this rate. He vowed to never make that mistake again, he needed to forget about Briony, lest he is killed while thinking of her. Even though he would recover, the damage he had taken was extensive. He had been hurt worse, but he wouldn't be at full strength for many hours now. He passed the tree line, entering the cover of trunks and foliage. It would be an hour now until he made it to the warehouse. If he ran though, he might make it much sooner. But, just as he prepared to take off, he felt a rumble against him.

This damn book.

He pulled it out and held it in his hand. It rumbled as if reacting to some arcane force that he couldn't see or feel. Horns beheld the book, wondering what might be causing what was occurring, and what it might mean.

What the book wants does not concern me.

He stowed it away, before charging off towards his destination, hopefully knocking considerable time off of the trip with his pace.