Evelyn Merritt

She led the Sisters after Vincent as the mad swordsman charged the hissing Dead Thing. Scores of rose slashes kept the horror busy while the women circled around the side. Arrows and streaks of Mana sliced above them as archers laid down more distractions. The projectiles had little effect beyond keeping the big Ratsin focused on the main body of the Sixty and blind to the three of them.

Hateful red clashed with Rose as the monster reared up and hacked downwards at the swordsman. His blade rose in defense, a flurry of cuts. The bones were diced up to the wrists of the rat thing. Little pieces with a rose glow where the sword passed through. The Dead Thing tried refixing the sliced pieces, but the severed effect opposed the attempt. The result was the slivers of bone awkwardly floating in almost the right positions.

Evelyn let out a mean laugh at the sight, but her merriment was snuffed out when it began to use them as whips. Thick strands of the red aura bound the pieces enough that they cut through the air like sharp ribbons. Vincent was forced to dance and weave to avoid the deadly ranged attack.

“Damn it, those damn things are way too fucking adaptive,” swore Evelyn. “What kind of animal is that good on the goddamn fly?”

Amelia smirked shyly, “What did you expect from mutant horror rats?”

“I don’t know, maybe dumb fucking beasts!” yelled Evelyn. “All twisted and shit!”

“Sorry…” said Marceline with sweet sympathy. The dagger Sister didn’t buy it for a moment and was right not to. “Next time we run into mutant terrors they’ll be very dumb, I promise! Just as smart as… you!”

The other women laughed as Evelyn rolled her eyes and said, “Ugh, can’t a girl do a little bitchin’ over fucked up shit?”

“You’re the expert,” agreed Amelia and Marceline perfectly in sync. The dagger Sister stuck her tongue out at both of them. A beat later the fun was over. They had arrived behind the Dead Thing.

“Alright, ladies… let’s fuck ‘em up!” declared Evelyn. The other two Sisters responded, “Every single one in our way!”

A wicked and nasty grin appeared on all three of them. Blood red flames sprouted from her daggers as purple ones lit up on Amelia’s spear and green fire engulfed Marceline's long sword. All three charged, completely in step with each other despite the varying lengths of their legs. Their fury and their own hatred warped around themselves as a gestate pressure. Enough so that the Ratsin began to turn around, but Vincent saw them coming. The swordsman locked the monster down with another flurried assault. Giving them the opportunity to strike as hard as they could.

Due to her daggers, Evelyn was forced to dive into the red aura of tendrils. The hatred-rich Mana itched at her skin like a half-healed burn. Stinging, but still begging to be scratched. The edges of her weapons wouldn’t be effective against plain bone, so instead, she used the flat sides of her blades to spread her bloody flames like hot butter. Soon the white bones were yellowing as the cursed flames went to work.

Amelia stood at the edge of the aura and thrust her spear with an elegant pose. The tip struck cleanly on the spine between the shoulder blades. A burst of purple flames rippled outwards from the contact. She brought back the spear with a sigh and then broke into an explosion of thrusts. The attacks caused loud cracks where bone chipped and more purple curses spread. Under the spear-wielders flames, the Dead Thing jerked and twitched.

The devastation that Marceline spread put them all to shame. Great swaths of terrible green fire poured from every swing of her sword. The diminutive woman didn’t even need to get close. Having figured out somehow to project the cursed flames like Vincent and his rose slashes. Waves of emerald fire crashed over the Dead Thing, splashing and spraying similar to the ocean. Soon the whole beast was a wick of green flames accented by red and purple.

It hissed into a wretched scream as the Ratsin’s bones crinkled into powder. Under the influence of the cursed flames, the Dead Thing’s skeleton appeared to rapidly age. The red aura vibrated and condensed against its boney frame. Hate warring to smother the spite-born flames. Warbling screams echoed from the Ratsin while it curled in on itself. A ball of bone and dark red energy as the cursed fire continued to gnaw. The sight would have invoked pity for any other being, but alternatively, the view was perfectly repugnant.

Then it exploded. Thick tendrils of angry red splattered outwards. Evelyn deflected a few with her daggers as she backpedaled, but it wasn’t enough. She was impaled in the shoulder and stomach. Sharp pains and a burning sensation radiated outwards. Jagged pieces of bone wrapped within the tendrils tore up her body inside and mutilated the wound as the Dead Thing pulled them out. That hateful aura burned in and around the punctures. Blood spurted from the corners of her mouth. It took extreme effort to hold back screaming at the rolling pain.

The Dead Thing was a mass of wriggle red Mana tentacles sprouting from two hindlegs capped by the Ratsin’s skull. The cursed flames had been dampened, but the body still burned. Blackened and withers while it lashed out at everything around it. Dying, but the monster would rage until every bit of it turned to ash. Evelyn feared she wouldn’t live to see that. Not this life at least.

As the dagger-wielder fell to her knees, she caught sight of Vincent. The swordsman had fared far worse. A bloody grin of defiance even with gaping wounds bleeding freely. His rose blade shone brightly, but shook in red soaked hands. Close proximity to the Dead Thing had denied him much room to dodge or deflect.

My Sisters, Evelyn thought faintly. Her descending consciousness surged awake. One desperate eye fought to stay open and find them. She searched, worried that her vision was too blurry to find them. Gah, did they already fucking die? sputtered her thoughts when no one could be found. Dreamily and panicked, the dagger Sister realized she had slumped to the ground at some point and was staring away from the fight.

The first one she found was Amelia. The beautiful spear-dancer had apparently avoided being wounded. Despite being slammed into the stone wall of the tunnel, her Sister was whole and untouched by hate. There was some blood Evelyn thought, but it was minor. What brewed fear in her stomach was that the spear-wielder was out cold. Vulnerable.

Fuck! Shit! Damn! swore Evelyn. The words were pure and powerful in her thoughts, but only muttered gurgling out loud. How is the fucking fight going? Where is Marceline?

When she found her, it was beautiful. The doll-like woman strode forward unperturbed by the berserk monster. Marceline’s sword met every attack with the fire imbued blade or a burst of green flame. Her open hand lifted and an inferno of spite washed over any approaching tendrils. Every step she took was careful and measured. Completely unhurried and unaffected by the wild assault from the Dead Thing. It grew smaller as her Sister grew closer.

Marceline stood before the burning Ratsin and looked down on it, her face blank. The sword of green flames rose, point ready to fall. Positioned to pierce through. A tendril began to form to snap out at her, but the sword dropped. Cut through the budding before being driven into the meat of what was left. The green fire flickered excitedly and the sword Sister said, “I hated you more… now die!”

Spiteful flames devoured what was left. An evil smile smeared across Evelyn’s face as she shared the victory with her sister. Everything faded.

Leon Machi

Sweat trickled down his neck as the barrier acolyte watched the crater he made with the Dead Thing. Battles raged around him, but his attention kept coming back to the ruined wall. There was an extremely low chance that the hateful rat had been done in by the act. He kept the vigil to make sure the Sixty got a warning when it got back up. Their most powerful fighters were already engaged and Leon knew he could at best delay. With a little warning, maybe those around him would be enough. Being taken unaware would be ruinous.

He risked a few seconds to observe the crowd around him. Seeking to get a feel for how they were doing. Nerves were high, but they were holding. The therapist in him thought that might have more to do with nothing coming at them than courage. Not that he blamed them. A wrathful wraith wasn’t something Leon had any desire to tangle with either.

We’ve got numbers on our side, but I’m not sure how much that would matter, considered Leon as he lifted his view back up the crumbling hole in the wall. It might just be as effective as throwing bodies into the grind… I’ve got warriors, archers, and acolytes around me to spare. Can any of them stand up to a Dead Thing? He ventured a scan of the battling parties and grimaced at the sight. Damn… even our best aren’t getting out of this unscathed.

When his attention returned to the crater, he blanched. The grimace died and his face went slack. A bony claw gripped the side of the hole. Stone scraped as the Dead Thing lifted its head to jeer down on the main body of the Sixty’s raid party.

“Russel, please start now,” ordered Leon palely.

The earth acolyte jerked away from the fights over to him, before looking upwards. A snarl came from the green-eyed man. His right hand rose and a chant rumbled into the world.

“See The Heart Of Stone,

Feel The Flesh Of Earth,

You Mold By My Will,

Shaper’s Vision!”

An earthy brown Mana formed around the right hand of the caster and the stone of the crater rippled. The fingers of the imbued hand twitched as if adjusting something. By his unspoken will, the earth acolyte began to shape the hole into a prison. Cracks disappeared and rough edges smoothed out. A rumble echoed from within the crater as the Ratsin was tumbled into the air. Now that the beast was detached from the opening, it began to close up.

Leon felt relief soak through him as the Dead Thing was entombed. He had decided to hold off doing this while the creature was quiet. Every one of the Sixty had noted that the Ratsins reacted violently to Mana usage. They may have triggered it when the beast would have stayed down. The barrier acolyte thought to himself, However, if I had known it would work this well… I would have had him do this sooner and spare myself all the worry.

Sadly, that cheer died quickly. There was a loud boom and cracks appeared in the newly formed stone. Angry red light poured out through the fissures. Another impact and pieces of the wall came loose. The Dead Thing hissed and peered through. Bony talons scrabbled to loosen the shattered stone while the earth acolyte continued to maintain the prison. Russel raised his left hand and cast another spell.

“Silent Earth Breaks,

Great Rage Awakens,

Rise And Fall For Me,

Quaking Rampage!”

The left hand of the earth acolyte became surrounded by a cloud of brown Mana that dripped into the stone at their feet. A moment later rock within the crater began to ripple rapidly. Spires of stone formed out and impaled the Dead Thing. Over and over the rock would form spikes to damage the beast while the prison restored itself by Russel’s will. Leon saw that the strain was starting to get to his acolyte friend. Between that and the raging Ratsin, the barrier acolyte knew the current stalemate wouldn’t last long. The monster would escape the cage.

Whistling a loud, sharp listen to me signal, Leon called out. “Alright, everybody… um, that Dead Thing I put in the wall isn’t going to stay. We’ll need to take care of it ourselves… at least hold until we get help… Any volunteers to split off?”

The first two to raise their hands were Soren and the archer Vihaan. The gunman gave a wink and his long coat twirled as he turned towards the threat. The other man frowned at the retreating back before following after, huffing and moving urgently to catch up. Leon found his eyes fell upon Reuben and raised a hopeful eyebrow.

A quick scan by the scout saw him curse. Obviously, the man realized he was the most powerful melee person in the crowd. Sighing, he said, “Well shit, I’ll see what I can do. Never tried to rebury the dead before… come on you two!” Rueben hustled away with his two fellow scouts shadowing.

Leon surveyed and hoped he was doing enough. The volunteers moved into position as the earth acolyte and the Dead Thing struggled. Stone rippled and shifted as hate empowered swipes broke the workings. Even with the pummeling of stone pillars inside, the Ratsin still kept the wall from resealing. It appeared to him that the monster was getting stronger in its rage. The effect was that Russel was losing steam. Seeing that, the barrier acolyte decided he better quickly add his weight to the scale. He began to chant.

“Hear This Prayer,

Protect These Heroes,

Clothe Them In Light,

Battalion Protection!”

Yellow Mana like sunlight rained down on the five who went off to challenge the Dead Thing. The spell shifted as it touched them and became a layer of light gleaming around them. Unlike Harken’s, Leon’s group buff didn’t enhance a person’s defensives, but instead added a second layer of defense. To harm the enchanted person required breaking the barrier first. He looked satisfied at the preparations. Soon the damnable thing would be free and things would get dangerous. As he waited, Leon whispered a spell almost to completion. Holding it back for the right moment.

Russel began to wane. His skin had gone pale and sweaty. First, the cloud of Mana disappeared from the left hand. The once constant thumping sound from the crater petered out slowly. The Dead Thing noticed the change and struck the sealing stone harder. Trying to squeeze through any hole available. Next, the sculpted stone failed to respond fast enough to breaches before failing completely. The sound of crumbling rock roared in Leon’s ears, enhanced by the terror of knowing it was free. Russel half fainted into the arms of one of the healer acolytes. A quick check saw that after some rest, the earth acolyte would be alright.

Leon turned back to the imminent battle. The breach in the stone wall grew larger and larger until the noise died to a small shifting of pebbles. An odious hiss erupted from the crater. Red tendrils of hate swirled out of the opening as the Dead Thing emerged. It looked down on all of them with an impatient clacking of the jaw. Bones were cracked and shattered, but fitted perfectly together. The hateful aura glowing thickly over the fractures.

A tremble ran through Leon. He felt the baleful glare and remembered the first Dead Thing. A look at Rueben and others brought strength back to his limbs. All three scouts stood ready to block the way into the heart of them. Daggers, short swords, and a mace shone with readied Mana. Soren stood confident in the bright glow of his gun and Vihaan stood with an arrow of sun’s fury. It was enough to calm the barrier acolyte.

We got this, decided Leon. The Dead Thing leaped furiously down and the Sixty were ready.

The Pale One

From deep slumber, an ancient hatred awoke. Its eyelids opened to nothing. Not simple emptiness, but a light swallowing darkness. A liquidness that denied all reflection and even the effect of illumination. The only break of uniformity was a blood-red swirl like blood dripped in water or spiral of a galaxy.

In the shadows of its den, the ancient monster rose in an orchestra of joint cracks. Moving for the first time in decades. Dust shifted, but it only changed position to reach out with its senses. Something had awakened them. A sensation had alerted this hateful thing to a change in the world.

Dug deep into the rock, it had rested, but now there were things of interest to see. Mana. The ancient thing could smell and sense the massive amounts of Mana being used. At first, it had thought the distribution just the wasteful rampage of the newest prime, but there was a distinct taste to this Mana. It knew this flavor. A grin bloomed so hideously that the darkness shielding it was a blessing.

Human, it thought with odious glee. A sound sickenly filled the air. Repeating endlessly like a tormenting child that had discovered a new sound to be pleasant. It was like a hiss in reserve, but if one choked on the inhale. If you were desperate for an explanation, you might say a laugh.

It stood slowly and stretched its boney frame. Very deliberately, the ancient evil groomed its skin with shifts and pricks. Once satisfied, the monster began to walk towards the ripples of Mana that called. There was enduring patience in their stride. Its red talons twitched excitedly, but the pace was calm. It would get there in due time.

Fun, reveled the ancient thing.