Destruction Chap. II: War and Insanity
 

Following his meal, Narg had wandered off, knowing and not knowing where he was headed. Like a burning coal in his mind's eye, he found himself trudging southwards.

S...South? I go south?

Yes, dimwit, now shut up and do as I say.

Along the way, he encountered a bear. The bear was a female, and she was nursing her cubs when the troll suddenly burst through the trees and lumbered straight at the creature. In all likelihood, Narg wouldn't have cared, as what little hunger that was left after feeding had been erased by the magical compulsion of the amulet.

But they were in his way, and thus they had to die.

Narg was barely larger than the bear now, having shrunken visibly over the past few days, and his hands were barely enough to hold her paws off as the bear reared up on both legs and brought them down on him in a vicious smash. He felt no pain, only a nagging sense of injury as his arms fragmented under the massive strength of the ursine offensive. Almost immediately, his regeneration began working, and fragments of bone were drawn back to their natural position, fusing into place even as new tendrils of muscle covered the breaks.

You hurt Narg... Narg hurt you...

The bear growled again, then delivered an overhand swat at the troll's head. With an unnatural, ghastly speed, Narg deftly caught the paw within a clawed hand, and then, grinning at the bear, he crushed. There was a sickening series of crunches and snaps as the appendage was broken as easily as a child would have cracked an egg, and her cry of agony rent the night.

I tire of this, you filthy animal. Time to die.

Something blazed in Narg's eyes, and a sizzling ray of heat shot from them and struck the she-bear, consuming her in awful black fire. Narg quickly let go and skittered back - picking up the amulet had not cured his innate fear of the flame, then watched curiously as the burning remains of the bear thudded to he forest floor. The troll turned, and his gaze caught those of the frightened cubs.

You know what to do.

Then there was a stifled cry, and the wet sounds of pulping flesh. Narg left the clearing, dragging a small pile of blood and fur behind him, another, smaller mass left in the alcove where they had tried to hide.

He had not gone unnoticed, however, and a small form fled ahead of the troll, legs pounding in an effort to get back to the village quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nephamael knelt before the Council.

"So she has come to doubt us....Pity. Now we shall need another 3000 faeries and 500 years."

"Indeed. The Court will be displeased at the loss of her, but when we explain..."

"You truly saw them embracing, Nephamael? And the words...all true...?"

"Yes, my lords."

"Well, then Renesival has committed high treason. There is no other choice. Nephamael, prepare the iron sword, then prepare for a rather hasty coronation. You shall take Renesival's place until a suitable replacement can be bred. And quickly, have someone fetch her."

"Yes, my lords," Nephamael said, bowing and leaving the room.

"It is indeed truly regrettable, but we cannot take any chances. Once she matures...we do not have this control."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jareth's door slid open, and a rather tall woman with long copper hair walked into the cell. She smirked.

"Well, well. The Unseelie King. My, but you do look bored. Enjoying yourself?"

The Unseelie King rose from his hammock, where he had been laying quite comfortabley, tossing a small pebble, he had found on the ground and catching it, until the most recent interruption. "How can I be bored, milady, when I have such excellent company?"

She smirked. "Enjoy it. I only came to inform you that this is now your permanent home. I hope you ARE comfortable."

An eyebrow arched on Jareth's face and he moved a bit closer to the woman, being certain that his countenance and voice remained cheerful and mocking. "Surely you are mistaken, my sentence shall have been served tomorrow."

Her lips curved into a smile.

"Your sentence has been changed to that of a life one."

"The Queen declared that my sentence would be three days, no longer. What has changed, if I may be so bold?" Jareth asked, with a level tone of voice, having noticed that the woman didn't close the door behind her.

She continued to smile. "Renesival's orders are no longer to be obeyed. The Council has given you a new sentence."

Jareth nodded quietly. There was more to this than what he was being told, and he intended on finding out why he was to spend a life time in a rather spartan cell. "And why, may I ask, are her orders no longer to be obeyed? She is the queen..."

"No longer." The woman's smiled widened. "She is to be executed rather soon. So sorry." She bowed and took a step back toward the exit.

Jareth nodded again. "Thank you, my dear. That is all I wanted to know..." As he finished the sentence Jareth leaped forward, his fist striking out quickly. It connected solidly to the woman's chin with a sickening crunch, presumably of her jaw breaking at the impact, and sent her crashing to the ground in the cell. Jareth continued through the door way, without stopping for a second, assuming there would be guards on the other side and they wouldn't wait for him to say something witty like, 'I was always told not to hit a lady, but luckily you don't fall into that category, my dear.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, Renesival knelt before the Council in the execution chamber, clothed in a plain white dress and her hair down, trailing on the floor.

"Have you anything to say for yourself, Renesival?"

".....Yes...."

"Then I suggest you say it while you can..."

Renesival looked down and closed her eyes.

"Gilantireth, Unesilethallir!"

The nearest Council member's eyes widened, then he slapped Renesival.

"You fool!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jareth dashed out of the cell taking a few guards by surprise, but they recovered quickly, drawing a pair of rapiers and a halberd, and charging him all at once. He instinctively tried teleporting behind them, and, to his pleasant surprise, it worked. The unseelie king quickly cast a gust of wind at the guard furthest toward the back, pushing him into the other two, and causing them all to fall against each other before they realized he was behind him.

A few minutes later, and he had disarmed the three of them, and led them into his cell at rapier point, closing the door behind them. 'Time to go,' he mentally intoned as he began the thought that would teleport him to the unseelie court, but he stopped himself and glanced toward the door to his cell and sighed. ...She's just a kid and they're going to kill her... and if I don't do something no one will. "I hate having a sense of morality," he grumbled under his breath as he glamoured himself to look like one of the guards, and walked up the stairs out of the dungeon, as quickly as he could without drawing attention.

Within a few minutes he located another guard. "Excuse me, sir," the unseelie king said, sounding distinctly unsure of himself while giving a clumsy salute, "I just positioned at the palace this week, and I was assigned to watch guard the execution, but no one told me where the execution chamber was. So, could you... um... tell me where it is, sir?"

The guard gave Jareth a skeptic look, then said, "Down this corridor, then turn left at the next opportunity, and it's just up the staircase there at the end of the hall."

~~~~~~~~

Renesival continued to kneel, hands weighted down by thick chains. Nephamael entered the room in full armor, carrying a sword with a blade that stank of iron. Renesival could feel the heat from the metal as he drew near. He looked down at her condescendingly.

"You know, Renesival. I had intended on sitting on the throne WITH you instead of FOR you. Pity. Ah, well, I suppose I can wait another five hundred years for a wife as lovely as you."

~~~~~~~~~
Jareth saluted the guard again, this time making his voice sound much more confident. "Thank you, sir!" The unseelie king then walked down the corridor until he could turn left, and, once rounding the corner, he dashed up the staircase and dropped his glamour as he reached the door. Jareth took a moment to calm himself and put on his characteristic smirk as he opened the door and entered the room.

All heads and eyes turned to the door. There was a collective gasp.

"You!"

Renesival lifted her head, staring at Jareth, her mouth open, but no words coming out. Nephamael turned toward Jareth, scowling.

"No!" cried a Seelie Council member. "Renesival first!"

Jareth chuckled and took a low bow. "Yes, me..." Jareth rose from the bow before continuing, "...and if you don't mind, I think I and the dear queen shall be..." in mid-sentence Jareth teleported to Renesival, and grabbed her, "Leaving."

With that, both Renesival and Jareth disappeared, travelling directly to a large room with obsidian walls, inlaid with gold at the moldings, and two doors, both closed. In the center of the room laid a large double bed with black silk and red satin covers, while a couch laid along the wall next to a large oak wardrobe. They were in the Unseelie Court, more specifically, in Jareth's personal chambers.

Renesival collapsed against Jareth, her breathing shallow. She looked up at him, eyes large and wet.

"You...you saved my life..."

She rested her chained hands against his chest.

Jareth merely chuckled, and smiled down at her. "Any decent man would have done the same, my dear."

She just looked up at him for a few minutes more, then looked down and burst into tears.

~~~~~~~~~
The Seelie Council stood around Nephamael, silent. After a few moments, a woman with long chestnut hair stepped forward.

"It seems war is inevitable now. Nephamael, go to the Unseelie Court and fetch Renesival, or bribe an Unseelie to do it. Jareth and Renesival must both die for their crimes."

Nephamael knelt. "As my Lady commands." He stood up and vanished.

"...It seems the experiment has failed."

Jormungand was crossing the wilderness. The stars portended a great war. The war bringer was at it's apex. It had aligned with the star of judgement. War was coming. He made haste across the wilds. Time was of the essence. He avoided the few settlements he came near. He also had to plan how he was to enter the imperial city. Stalkers usually entered through the sewers. The main sewer line exited into the river. He had to plan how he was to enter the city at that point.

"I wish I could have more time."

(ooc: If you, or ren want to come hang with Jo your more than welcome.)

(OOC: In the sewers? How about not.)

The atmosphere in the village was understandably tense. The ogre army had moved up recently, and every man and woman in the village knew exactly what the hordes were capable of, as did the refugees from the other towns.

So the reaction that had greeted little Eliot's breathless report of the "clawed ogre" that he had spotted nearby was not a dismissive spanking, but rather, a call to arms. If it was a scout, then allowing it to return would call down a hungry army upon their heads. In the courtyard, an older man was standing in fron of a group of younger men and women, holding up their unstrung bows before him.

"Come on guys, check your weapons. Are the strings frayed? Any cracks or warping in the wood? Well?"

A chorus of "No, Captain" echoed down through the line.

"All right, then string up and let's go! Come on! If we don't take that scout down now we'll have more to deal with! Hazel, Pistachio, take them and meet me at the woodcutter's trail! I'm taking the hunters out with me."

So saying, the captain slung his bow over his shoulder and ran off, a small group of bowmen in their drab greens and browns following him.

******

Narg's nose pricked up. He could smell woodsmoke, and through that, the smell of roasting boar. The thought made him hungry, and he shoved the dead cub into his maw and bit off a chunk of flesh.

Food... Nearby...

Will you stop thinking of your thrice-damned stomach for once, you worthless animal?

Food... not good?

Ohh... you idiotic waste of life... No. There is fire nearby... Not much... but as a symbol of my existence it could give me the power I need...

Narg obediently headed toward the village, and above the trees, the clouds started gathering.

******

Hidden above the ground in the branches, along with the rest of the hunters, the captain studied the forest closely. He couldn't make out anything yet, which was odd. Ogres were stupid, hulking creatures, and they tended to smash and break things in their way rather than going around them...

Then suddenly he saw it. Larger than a man, yet strangely small for an ogre, the creature pushed the branches aside and lumbered forward. The captain's hands flashed rapidly through a series of practiced gestures, then he reached for the string of his own weapon."

Jormungand stretched the muscle fatigue from days of travel. His light gray tunic Rippling with the movements of the muscles. He was near the main sewer line. The sewer emptied into a lake a several miles outside of the imperial city. He dove into the murky water. He took a deep breath. He dove to the Iron grate guarding the entrance to the sewer. He pulled it free and swam in. He pulled it back into place with his tail. He then swam for several yards before the angle of the corridor gave it enough room for air. He surfaced and inhaled the foul air and began to cough.

Ready bows.

The others did, slowly pulling back on the strings until a dozen feathered flights were in contact with a dozen leather shoulderpads.

"Steady..." he muttered, and in the silence of the gloomy afternoon, every man could hear him.

The "ogre" grew closer, and they could now smell the rank odor of the dead cub it had been eating. The captain heard a sharp intake of breath and forced swallowing as one of the archers behind him narrowly suppressed the urge to throw up from the smell.

"Steady..." the captain continued whispering.

Then it stopped and sniffed the air, and looked directly at the hidden archers.

"Fire."

Thirteen whistling shafts lanced out of the branches, the frog-crotched heads tearing flesh to bits as they impaled Narg through the chest and head with deaadly precision. The troll flew back in a shower of riven flesh, howling in agony.

Narg hurt! Humans hurt!

So kill them. It's what you're good at, right, you dimwit?

Narg kill! Narg KILL!

A piercing cry escaped the from Narg's rapidly regenerating maw, a razor-edged soundwave that slashed the trees to pieces and tore the air apart with its hideous keening. The captain didn;t even have time to clap his hands to his ears before the sonic blade carved him apart with ruthless precision, just as they ahd done to Narg.

Unlike Narg, however, they couldn't regenerate.

As the troll trudged on inexorably toward the village, it was not only cloven branches which fell to the bloody earth.

******

In the village, the sentry shivered. The air had grown suddenly cold as the sky had darkened, but that wasn't the reason for his reaction. Rather, it was that horrific cry they had all heard a few moments ago.

What truly terrified him was that after that, there had been no sign of the captain's hunting team. Hazel and Pistachio's archers had fanned out to either side of the captain's approaches, and their runners had reported nothing new.

But from the captain's team, there had been no word. It was as if the forest, now seeming like a malevolent being in the dimming light, had simply swallowed them up, with little more than that cry to show for it.

Then he had no more time to think, because Narg was sprinting out of the forest, toward the open village. His objective seemed to be the cooking fire near the village center.

"Ogres! Everyone! OGRES!" On edge, the defenders drew and fired. However, spooked by the recent events, they missed... and Narg continued unchecked towards the village.

******

As the arrows whistled around him, largely missing from the archers' anxiety and inexperience, but also because of Alucard's subtle manipulation of air currents, Narg wondered if this was a good idea, running straight into the midst of his enemies.

Narg not want do this... Narg no want get hurt like juts now...

Narg going to die a long and horrible death if he stop now... Damn! I'm even talking like you, you filthy animal! Just run! Once you reach the fire we can end everything!

At the mention of fire, Narg almost stopped.

Narg no want fire! Fire bad for Narg! Narg no heal fast when fire touch Narg!

They'll kill you if you don't get to the fire! Only I can save you now, but I need to be in the presence of destruction to tap more of my element! I can do parlor tricks like the sonic sword and the deadly sight, but they won't nearly be enough for a whole village of bowmen!

Narg...

DO IT NOW.

Where persuasion had failed, brute force succeeded. The troll ran even faster, easily outrunning the arrows, which were already impeded by the interfering winds conjured up by Alucard. The troll pounded on mindlessly, drawn to the flame much like a moth, its long strides eating up the distance between the two.

Fifty meters. Forty-five meters. Forty meters.

An arrow finally managed to shear through Alucard's wind defense and catch Narg in the shoulder. The broadhead tip tore the meat open, but it knitted together again almost instantly.

Thirty-three meters. Twenty-six meters.

Ignoring the pain, knowing only the fire that it had to seek, Narg redoubled his pace, and the distance shrank even more.

Nineteen meters. Ten meters.

Narg pulled an arm back instinctively, guided by the will of Alucard. The fire provoked the Red Fear in him, but he was too far gone in his madness to care.

Five meters. One meter.

Almost at the flame, Narg stopped... then thrust the spindly, wiry arm into the bonfire. Narg howled from the painas the greedy flames consumed his flesh like a wildfire... but in the howling, one could hear a mad laughter as well.

Yes! This is what it's like! This is how it should be!

The essence of destruction fueling his connection to the storm he had started, Alucard reached to the skies... and brought the wrath of heaven down upon the earth. Lightning began striking, over and over, the bolts falling faster than the raindrops summer storm. Where they hit, there was a flash of incandescent fire, and then, nothing but the memory vaporized flesh and blasted wood. The villagers ran, only to be cut down in their twos and tens by the vengeful arrows of heaven. The wind howled like a mad thing, its freezing embrace bearing the screams of the dead and dying away as the world suddenly seemed more akin to Hell than any other plane of existence.

And when it was all over, when there was nothing left of the settlement but burning ruins and echoing wails of pain and sorrow, the thing that had once been Narg stood from the ashes. Now, it was almost humanoid, missing an arm where it had been burned. It would take time to heal that, he thought. And in the meantime, he would be severely disadvantaged.

Is that so?

I have only one arm left. What do you think?

Still as stupid as ever, eh? Don't forget... you are the avatar of the Lord of Destruction now.

At this, Narg grinned, and its ugly face split open to reveal a maw of half-rotted teeth, and above that vile maw, a pair of eyes glittering with a hateful intelligence.

The world had just changed in ways nobody could imagine.

Jormungand hated the smell of this place. He'd already been sick several times. His undulating tail propelled hime through the filth.

He saw a stairwell. He decided now would be the time to leave the sewers. He moved up to the door.

Looking though the key hole he saw what looked like a storage facility of some kind. He was growing tired and impatient. He heard nothing from the room so he oppened the door. He moved into the room and looked about. There were kegs, and large crates about the room. Some Salt pork was hanging from some meat hooks.

<I must be in a tavern he thought.> he heard a sound. He found a place behind some crates. He tried to be inconspiquous.

"Jareth really made out well for himself the other night didn't he." One masculine voice said.

"Yeah... Oi it stinks in here." another said.

"It's the 'back door' it leads into the sewers so we can make a quick get away if need be."

"Yeah I understand."

Jormungand heard the men's foot steps leave and the door to the storage area leave. He moved towards the door. He found a stair well and a corridor to another set of rooms. He decided to slither up the stair well he found no body on his way up. He had guessed his arrival at sometime in the early morning sometime before sunrise. He found an upstairs hall way. He listened to each door carefully. He entered one that he heard no dicernable life inside.

The room appeared to just be a simple bedroom with a single small window. The window was just big enough for Jormungand to fit in. He moved his entire body into the room. and shut the door quietly behind him. The window was easy to remove quietly. The wood mouldings were extremely brittle. The bars over the window however would be harder. Jormungand positioned the nasty looking bed in front of the door then he wrapped his tail around the bars and pulled. With a loud ripping sound he pulled the window frame bars and all into the room. He then stuck his body out the new hole. The drop into the alley was to much for him but he could reach the roof. He pulled himself onto the roof. just in time to hear people bursting into the room he was just in. He started to move from rooftop to rooftop.

"I need a bath." He said to himself.

Vlad was sitting in his seat, smiling as the three slavers in front of his sweat and fanned themselves. The three guest had all started betting with each other, all just against Vlad. A few dominations were needed to get that going, but once it did they stuck to it. Now it was the last fight, and each slaver owed many things to Vlad from bets, which one of the nereids had been writing down so they couldn’t try to weasel their way out of paying Vlad.

What confused the slavers the most is that for every fight, they had chosen who they wanted to win. Vlad never once picked his fighter, and only went against the three. Sure they had won every now and then, but for the most part Vlad kept winning every bet. Any time the slavers decided to stop betting, Vlad ‘persuaded’ then to keep going, though they didn’t know it.

“So, it’s the last round gentlemen. Last chance to win back what you owe me. Who will you choose, the feles or the human?” Vlad mocked the three slavers, knowing he was going to win this bet as well.

The three whispered to each other for a while, then the aging man (Not Atropos or short bald guy) turned to Vlad. “We’re going with the feles.”

Vlad raised an eyebrow, questioning their choice. “Really? The feles? Are you sure that’s a wise choice?”

The three slavers again whispered to each other, trying to figure out what that meant. Vlad began to laugh lightly, just to make them more nervous. The bald one turned around this time. “We are going with the feles.”

Vlad grinned while leaning forward, looking down at them. “So, what is the bet then? You do owe me quite a lot, perhaps you should make a big bet?”

After one more huddle of whispers, the three couldn’t think of anything until one of them screamed out the first thing they thought of. “Anything! You can take anything you want!”

“Anything? That is a very vague bet. Are you sure about that?” Vlad was grinning. They were getting desperate now, and it was to late to turn back.

“Um… Yes, that is the bet. But if we win, everything we owe you we won’t have to give you. Deal?”

Vlad leaned back into his chair, pretending to think while rubbing his chin. He was of course going to accept, but he wanted to make them sweat a little. “Alright, I accept this bet. If the feles wins, all previous bets will be void. If the human wins, I get anything I want from each of you.”

After they all agreed and the nereid recorded the bet, the three slavers turned towards the arena and began to do any good luck charms and prays they knew. Vlad leaned back and smiled, knowing that the human was now going to win.

Zalbag shook his head at the idiot slavers. He had no idea what possesed them to do what they were doing, or what had possesed them to keep betting even when they lost ever single time. He was just glad that Ssslara and Dezil had refrained from doing anything idiotic, since Ssslara had nothing of worth, and Dezil complained about stakes being too high for his blood. Regardless, Zalbag had been watching the predeedings with great interest, both inside and outside the observers box. He had his suspicions, but with no proof, he wouldn't say a word.

Anyway, while the feles had been doing good, considering the track record, he knew that somehow the feles would lose this one , but regardless he was looking forward to the last fight, both because he had been surprised at how interested he had become in the tournament, and because he wanted to get back on the road as soon as possible, because it looked like they would be cutting the timing close to get to the vault.

The fights are rigged.

That's what Vlad had told Aidelyn right after the first fight. But something didn't make sense to her.

She had been watching him carefully and he hadn't been doing anything to signal which one he wanted to win. It was impossible for him to know before hand which ones would win because he always let his guests choose who they were betting on first, and Vlad would always pick the opposite, yet Vlad would always come out on top.

<How does he do it?> She wondered, watching Vlad, the other slavers, and the arena warily.