Hommlet, A Light In The Darkness

Chapter 2 – A Pound Of Flesh

Many moons had passed since Beth had passed away. The frail village had subsided on equal parts lion pabulum and unrelenting stubbornness. Hardship was the common tongue and all the gnashing of teeth and philosophical squabbling of Elijah and his brothers could not solve the simplest of problems. They were trapped in this penumbra cell and the key had been swallowed.

Sara was the one who let out a scream to break the monotony. Her nerves were like thin rope frayed on both ends and coated in oil, ready to be lit with the faintest ember. But she pressed on.

They returned to what could not pass as countryside to even a blind man, clutching their newly forged daggers of feline bone and shards of malice to carve more flesh from the bone and feed their wandering souls.

Ruth, Simon, and Samson were ill experienced and not ready. Their training was meager and their first test would be as a rack of tender lamb thrown to the starving hunter.

The chase took three long nights that could be measured up against the dozens that came before it. The long passages of silence were cut by what Sara believed to be another of the ashen lions that she had witnessed shortly after being awoken. This one was different. The group could feel the presence of their not-quite-prey always just beyond their grasp. It was in heat, and its screams were tortuous like a series of peculiar strings on a beaten instrument being cut, one at a time.

When they arrived at the golden field and stood there in awe, it was Sara who would pull them out of their stupor. A place so barren, jagged, and in constant immortalized torture upon the ground had shown such little signs of life that this was like hearing a bar of music for the first time.

As beautiful as the stretching field of brilliance was, they could all sense that lurking cancer blanketed in camouflage. Even the few specks of gorgeous imagery they drank was laced with a potent venom. Sara knew immediately this was the beast's home, and she would not turn away.

In Hommlet, the people prayed to gods of stone and flesh continuously. They sought answers and offered their own flesh and sacrifices. Help, if it came at all, was at best opaque. Here, it was different for something less sinister than holy guided their feet and eyes and they came upon the White Lion's trail in that sea of blades.

The fight, again, was a jumbled mess of strewn limbs and open gashes. The group of survivors found hope and vigor early, as Ruth severed the creature's manhood with a long rough slice. The opening had arrived while Samson and Sara exchanged trauma with the devil head on.

When its testicles were severed is when the wind began to change.

It bore down and focused the entirety of its hatred on Ruth. Deep down within its body, the white demon shattered the vase holding its fire and tore the woman apart in the span of a few seconds. It started with her eye, ripping it from the socket with a gnarled claw. As her screaming rose above the din of battle, it dug into her scalp with blow after blow attempting to tear her head from its connecting tissue. It was forced to change focus as Simon had taken up a vantage point on a cluster of elevated ground and was hurling darts of bone into the creature's flank.

The large gashes of torn flesh began to mount on the White Lion. It knew it was close to the its dark end when Sara buried her curved blade into its hind, drawing a large geyser of crimson. The beast extended itself and clamped down with its enormous jaw on Ruth's hip, shattering a mess of bones in her midsection and silencing her for good. This was the last breath both of them would take.

[This game is brutal. All of the wounds described above - including the Lion's testicles being removed - were a result of the mechanisms of the game itself. My inflection lies mostly in description, not in the beats of the narrative.

When Ruth lost her eye it physically hurt. I knew she was in trouble having been tossed around and damaged in multiple hit locations and I tried like hell to save her. Managing to lose only one survivor, however, should be counted as a victory at this point.]

From the fragile remains of what was once unmitigated strength arose protection in the white feline's visage. The softest organs were harvested and utilized by Elijah to fabricate paint - bright unyielding colors that contrasted heavily with the thick lacquer of dusk. Prosperity, or at least the most infant form, began to emerge.

Then, the screams began. Reverberating around Hommlet like a maniacal echo chamber carved by Abaddon, the shrieks pierced the soul like a rapier tickling the intestines.

This is the second chapter in an ongoing Kingdom Death: Monster solo campaign. To view the first chapter and introduction, head to this post.

Kingdom Death: Monster - Hommlet Chapter 2

Charlie Theel

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