*crack*

*crack*

*crunch*

Why?

*crack*

*crack*

*crunch*

What did we ever do to deserve this?

*crack*

*crack*

*crunch*

Nothing… none of this… it doesn’t make any sense at all… so… why?

Rok’s large black-and-green hands hammered away in an almost relentless, therapeutic rhythm. He continued crushing stone after stone into a mixture of water and plant matter in a larger makeshift stone bowl until it turned into a coarse paste.

*crack*

*crack*

*crunch*

Why is it always like this? Even when I heard Grandpa’s stories… even when the Elders told tales from long ago… it was always the same… That we had a kingdom once… that our tribes once covered lush fields and ample farmland… and that if we waited quietly and patiently, one day, we could prosper again…

*crack*

*crack*

*crunch*

But… none of the gods ever favored us… they always favored the humans… the ones who took everything from us… the elders said that our fate was sealed from the ancient king’s decision to side with the dragon’s… but… hadn’t they also said that half the kingdom was lost to man by then?

*crack*

*crack*

*crunch*

*crack*

*crack*

*crunch*

*CRAAAAACK*

With a much too hard strike, Rok split the bowl he was working on. Again. And, for the umpteenth time, he grimaced unpleasantly as he separated the paste and put the shards of the bowl into his soon-to-be-paste pile. The paste he poured into a hollowed out hunk of tree that was also partially filled with more small stones, which he proceed to lift with a slight huff.

Like we ever had a choice to begin with…

Rok turned to face the massive half-moon-shaped rock wall behind him. Numerous small streams slowly drippled out a black, pitch-like liquid from vein-like holes perforating the cliff.

Even after a few days, I’m still only about three quarters of the way through… at least plugging the big holes was easier…

He continued on with his grizzly work, as he walked up to each of the still-open holes and plugged them up with his makeshift patching mixture. Even as he kept trying to maintain his focus, he could hardly maintain his composure, as his face was still stained with the streaks of long-dried up tears, his bloodshot eyes moving from one spot to the next.

I… don’t even know if this will work… or if this is helping… I don’t even know… what… what my tribe has become… or what I’ve become…

He shook his head, as if trying to shake loose some horrible memories, and picked up his work speed. Behind the larger rocks and boulders… what was holding the “veins” of this colossus together… if he knew what would be used to make it… he would have never agreed to that demon’s deal in the first place. Rok shuddered again, pushing himself even harder again.

Don’t stop. Mustn’t stop...

Sleepless nights, round the clock.

*shlup* *shlup* *shlup*

*Guuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh*

A nigh surreal chorus of groans quietly whispered out of holes in the colossus. Rok froze, his bloodshot eyes bulging as the hairs on his skin stood on end.

Ignore it! Ignore it, ignore it, ignore, ignore, ignore, its just in my head, they died… they are dead…

He tried, desperately, to suppress his memory. Right after those damned humans blasted him… the great weapon he was promised! His chance for revenge, he couldn’t lose it, not like this… not so soon! He rushed to see the extent of the damage to his colossus, only to find rivers of that black, pitch-like fluid rushing out of it. Strangely enough, all those… things… out there… they ignored him, like he wasn’t even there. He didn’t question it then, and he took the chance to grab the nearest boulder, something he should have never been able to lift… and tore it from the ground.

He pushed as hard as he could to fill the hole, but before he could plug it… inside… he saw… horror. A terrible patchwork of flesh, roots, and bone… and scattered protrusions of faces… faces he knew, moaning in a gruesome chorus… unable to rest…

They are trapped… unable to pass on… in a tomb of stone… he gave me power… and in exchange… he cursed my friends… my family… my ancestors… they suffer… its not my fault, its not my fault, its not my fault!

Rok dropped to his knees, as he dropped his storage log and spilled the rocky paste on the ground. His hands pressed tightly against the stone behemoth, he muttered in unison with his thoughts while slightly swaying back and forth, back and forth again…

“Mustn’t stop… can’t stop…”

Like a poorly strung-up doll, Rok lifted himself up again. He had work to finish. He couldn’t rest until it was done. In fact, he doubted if he would be able to rest even after it was done. Exhausted. Tired. But still… he didn’t break.

Why…

His mind cycled back again, trapped in its loop. A loop which made it impossible to notice… something… stalking him through the forest. Something that, even if he had his full wits about him, he still might have missed.

Long, wiry fingers pierced with various pieces of animal bones and doused in tatooes tightened their grip around a long wooden staff.

“Hyehyehyehyeh… It smells a little different… the energy feels a little different… and yet so similar… this must be what started the affliction? The trail leads here… break the source, free the dead…” The soft, wet laugh caught in its’ throat as it whispered quietly to itself. It was a hunter, and it had found some prey.