Sachihiro

We rushed into the clearing at speed with spears at the ready, me slightly ahead as the most proficient fighter in the group. I kick the door in and hear a hiss as the cabin suddenly becomes pitch black before my eyes.

I roar out a challenge as I rush into the thick stygian atmosphere. The darkness feels disgustingly irritating, like wet warm faeces across my skin. It dumbs all my senses one after the other as the darkness thickens around us.

A gnarled finger points towards me from my left and a curse language that grates upon my ears echoes out.

I'm too far to stop the chant or curse or whatever so I fling my spear at where I assume the rest of the creature is with all my might while almost simultaneously unsheathing my dagger with my other hand.

There is suddenly a concussive pop that disorients me as I stumble onto one knee with my ears ringing. I have absolutely no idea what just happened but I'm dizzy.

The room is spinning as I watch Om or Harold, I'm not entirely sure who, vomiting onto the floor while trying to keep their spear up. I try adjusting my eyes towards my previous target and I see nothing but darkness. It's actually getting darker instead of clearing. I suddenly feel a cold Aura of Rage wash over me and though I'm still disoriented I can see clearly in here for the first time.

"We caught her unaware otherwise we'd all be dead as soon as we crossed the wards but we've missed our chance to catch her unaware. We are no match for her now," Dee says in that cold, indifferent way he speaks when the Rage is upon him.

I stand gritting my teeth as I wipe my face, only just realizing there is blood going down my nose and ears. I smile at the joy of the challenge. I will not die today.

"Then we die fighting," I say confidently.

Om grunts assertively and leaves the cabin on wobbly legs, spear held high. Out of the kettle and into the fire.

Harold is in pieces outside, literally in pieces on the ground.

A creature so hideous my eyes water at the sight of it stands over him, I gag at the stench of it; it is at this sight instead of at the sight of Harold's decimated corpse that a shiver runs up my spine. The creature stands over what's left of him looking at us and hissing heinously.

"Foolish children!" The creature hisses and Om goes berserk at the sight of his brother.

"Hhhaaaaarrrrrh...!!!" His roar is long and primal as he seems to become bigger though staying the same size. Om has more weight in the world as his shadow thickens, veins popping prominently across his person. He moves swiftly and decisively forward.

Another pop goes off but with less effect as I only stumble as my ears ring but it has absolutely no visible effects on Om. His form is perfect as he strikes with a decisive thrust. There is a blinking bright flash and as my vision clears a transparent pixelated wall has stopped the spear cold.

I rush around the obstruction as Om continues his onslaught of strikes from the front. Another cursed word comes out of the creature's mouth and a swarm of blood gnats suddenly buzz towards me.

As suddenly as they had come they suddenly start falling dead as my brother drops to one knee vomiting blood to the side. I reach her and my first two swipes are deflected by her bare hand leaving only scratches and a few droplets of blood.

Its shield shatters with the sound of breaking pottery to what I assume is Om's onslaught but its black claws scrap against my chest staggering me back.

I bellow in rage and pain as my leathers and flesh part like grass before a scythe. Om's spear finds purchase but instead of ripping through as expected only half the blade enters the creature's chest. It's the same with his second and third strike as his fourth is caught just behind the blade head.

[Snap], the witch breaks the shaft.

My knife fares no better as I only leave scratches on the thing's shoulder and arm, parting its clothes but doing little to the flesh beneath. Om's onslaught doesn't cease as he attacks on with the stump of his spear, I'm distracting the resilient creature as best I can with my ineffective dagger but easily it takes us both on.

"You are mine!" It hisses as darkness ascends like smoke from the ground all around us. My legs strain as I try to kick the darkness away. Shit, its somehow slowly weighing me down as my body becomes laden and the pain in my chest suddenly flaring immediately become unbearable.

[Hhaaaa]! a scream escapes before gritting my teeth. This bloody witch!

I can't move, I can hardly think with pain taking all of my attention, I see red as anger and hopelessness turns to wrath within me. I see red then suddenly it's just me and my opponent that matters. Pain? Pain for who? Hopelessness? Who needs hope in order to kill? Tshin, this creature thinks it has a hold on me? Insolent!

The Rage takes me and I can move again, swiftly deflecting a blow that would have taken Om's head from his shoulders as he seems to have lost all reason to defend.

Spittle flies from Om's snarled mouth as he uses the shaft of the spear as a staff, bludgeoning away at the creature endlessly, uselessly. The dark smoke rises, suddenly thick around us and I can't see my nose on my face but I move forward regardless.

The Rage is upon me but like my brother's my berserker rage is a strange one. I can see better, feel more, prioritize quicker, react faster, take more punishment, attack with greater power and everything except my opponent seems to fall away. Tunnel vision da calls it. Limiting in a battle, great tool against a single opponent.

Most others say they feel possessed and are almost like passengers in their own bodies when the Rage is upon them. Me, I am very much in control, I become the Rage and know for a fact that nothing can stand before me and live.I am a reaper, a death dealer, the embodiment of death.

I move forward and hit flesh with my left fist, the knife in my right-hand parts more clothe and flesh. Even as the darkness is clawing at me, stopping my lungs from expanding to inhale I keep punching with fist and knife. The is a burn both in and on my chest.

I press my attack, hitting flesh as I feel claws part the flesh of my forearms all the way to the bone. There is no retreat, no surrender. No remorse in the face of imminent death, I am Norse, I am Barbarian.

After a minute of giving everything I have even as my flesh is in tatters from the witch's claws I hear the vile creature cackling as my hand parts from my forearm. I can't see it happening but I certainly feel it, dispassionately I increase my attack with my left hand and legs. Kicking, silently screaming and gnashing my teeth to bite if I could get close enough. No Barbarian wants to die without a weapon in hand which is why I won't die today. My right hand with my dagger is somewhere at our feet in the cloying darkness. The pain of whatever is left is a hot burn even through the berserker Rage.

Suddenly the darkness parts around a fast-spinning object.

[Thump], I hear a thump and feel my hair bellow from a wind that quickly passes.

Slowly the darkness recedes and I can breathe again. The shaft of Dee's spear quivers beside my head. The rest of the spear is firmly embedded in the creature's chest. Om is gasping for breath on one knee, his chest, arms and his spear bloodied but his grey eyes clear, never leaving the creature before us.

Slowly he crouches, then explodes forward with a thrust to its throat. A wet quenching sound is all I hear as blood and gore explodes from the back of the witches throat. There is a slight wheezing sound before the creature collapses, dead.

Silence reigns for a few heartbeats. All I hear is my heart beating, blood flowing between twitching fingers capping the stamp of my wrist.

Daewon looks pale, weak and clammy wiping blood from his nose but he gives me a nod.

I look towards Harold and quickly look away. Death is never easy or dignified, it's horrifying. I calm some but the Rage is on me and I'm not satisfied with this one opponent, I want to fight!

"Wwhaaaarrr....!" Om's bellow is grief-stricken and heart-wrenching, pulling me from the worst of my bloodlust. I look away as tears flow down his face. I walk to double-check on the creature, definitely dead.

Om walks away towards the stream I am gratefully surprised actually existed in the shadow of this cabin. The pervasive aura and the unnatural atmosphere are gone I suddenly realize. I'm not sure how long that fight lasted, it could have been a few seconds it could have been over ten minutes.

Exhaustion and pain start making themselves known as the Rage leaves me. This was definitely an Awakened foe, there is no way she could have been that resilient to physical attacks otherwise.

No way is that normal for a normal witch. She would have to be Awakened, right?

I fall on my knees light-headed. I pull off my belt and tie it around my stump as best as I can with my left hand and teeth. Does this mean Om and Dee are blooded before me?

I fall forward, grateful the torturous pain from the black smoke was not permanent for the injuries.

Sweet darkness embraces me, accompanied by dreams or memories I didn't know I had.

*

I wake up in pain, sweating and shivering. We are just outside the forest the sun is up and the day seems to be progressing like any other, like everything is normal. I look at my hand and notice it's bandaged, as well as my chest and arms. We didn't bring bandages, did we? I close my eyes and try to take stock of my injuries.

The skin on my chest pulls tight with each inhale, stitches. The stump is bandaged but not cauterized, my forearms also have stitches. I need to urinate, it seems urgent. Neither Om nor Daewon seems to be around but they somehow found a blanket to cover my naked chest. It hardly ever snows in the area, but the wind is cold that comes from the ice caps of the Titan Mountains in winter.

I shuffle myself onto my side as carefully as possible, release my kilt lace and urinate. I shudder as I realize my urine is black and brown. Gods but that was a good fight, I smile to myself. Still haven't personally killed anyone but as usual lots of assists.

I sober up as I remember the state Harold was in, the grief in Om's cry, the sweet horrific vivid dream I just had. Dee is gonna have to explain himself that's for sure; I lie on my back on the grass and enjoy the sun on my face. Listening to the throbbing aches of my body, watch the cloudy haze of the sky.

It isn't long before I hear the rustling of someone walking towards me.

"Ma," I say, only slightly surprised by her presence here.

"How are you, my baby?" She asks gently as she kneels beside me and strokes my face.

"I've been better," I said drowsily. I feel I can rest for a while with her here.

"Drink this before you sleep," she says as a water skin is placed gently on my lips.

I drink deeply feeling a cooling sensation wash down my throat and almost immediately stop my shivering. I can feel her undoing the bindings of my bandages as the sweet release of unconsciousness takes me.

*

When next I wake its dusk, which surprisingly implies I slept more than 40 hours. We seem further from the forest than the last time I woke. I'm leaning on an anthill protecting my back from the wind with a perfect view of any danger that may come from the forest. I am in pain I realize with a groan. It's starting to come back to me. I take a moment to try to assimilate what I already know and what I can guess as I look around.

Om looks miserable nursing what smells like a skin of mead. I can see some bandages sticking under the dire wolf cloak he is wearing. That definitely looks like da's cloak. He is staring intently into the fire carefully arranged between us. I have no idea where Dee and ma are.

The silence between us stretches on for a while before he tosses me the skin. I instinctively catch it and wince in regret from the pain that assails me from the rapid movement. Om grins before being sombre again. That's why I never stick around with them after hunts, that twisted humour of his and Harold’s.

"He died well," I say suddenly, nodding.

And he did die well. If I noticed properly his spear was sheared in half and his knife was beside his corpse. He probably blocked the first swipe of her claws with his spear, then he used his knife. His hands were gone and his head was detached. It wasn't an easy death but he died fighting.

Om grunts his agreement. 'Stoic Om' Harold used to sometimes call him. I smile thinking about it and slowly take a swing from the skin.

Spirits beyond I feel like a day old corpse.

"If you want the skin back you're gonna have to come get it." I get another grunt in response, such an aggravating young man. He is only two years my junior, been to one raid that I know of, good fighter, swimmer and diligent hunter. Not a bad sort, I wonder why I never became close to him and his brother the way Dee is.

I'm not close to anyone really, not since Andrés died in a hunt with his dad and uncles. Killed by a mundane everyday panther in the Dawn Forrest. They didn't even kill it after, fuckers.

"I remember those 2 years fondly." Om suddenly says.

"What?" I ask, not sure what he is talking about.

"The years your ma went away. She came to my house with your da the morning she was to leave. I remember thinking she was the most beautiful woman in the world." He walks over and snatches the skin, finishing the mead and sitting beside me facing the forest as the azure sky changes colour tones and hues like a fickle painter.

"She told ma she would be leaving your da in her hands, and if he goes to anyone else she will cut his balls when she gets back," he snorts from the memory. "I couldn't believe it. Your da was so big and your ma so tiny next to him but she threatened to cut his balls. He came almost every morning after that for 2 years. I used to watch for him right before dawn,'' Om says with a distant gaze.

"He used to bring magical beast meat and fruit. Once he brought his axe, taught Harold and me how to clean it, sharpen it, care for it. Then he would bed ma." He shrugs, "but it was different with him you know? I didn't mind. For a while I thought he might be mine and Harold's da. But then your ma came back and he came less and less and eventually stopped altogether. Ma didn't seem to mind but Harold and me," he sighs, "we minded. That's why we were so hard on little Dee growing up."

"Why are you telling me this now?" I ask looking at him in a different light.

"Not sure," he shrugs, looking at me then into the fire.