Chapter 3 - Paulus

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Chapter Three - Paulus

I

        His muscles began to burn, but he was enjoying the sensation. The sun was bright and evaporated his sweat. He could feel the heat enter his skin, knowing a burn was forming. It did not bother him; for some reason, he had always enjoyed the sensation when the burn did not go too deep. Already well beyond its zenith, the sun’s rays were blocked by the surrounding tree lines at properties front, and shade stretched into the open fields.
        He was pleased with his progress today. Crops covered the field and only a third remained to be planted. A smile creased his lips as pride swelled in his breast. This was the fastest he had ever planted the harvest, and he knew he would be finished by the morrow’s midmorning light or early afternoon at the latest.
        “Paulus,” A voice sailed through the air. Its tune had a sweet almost musical note to it.
        Paulus turned from the crop rows and felt his breath stricken from his lungs. He always felt this way when his eyes met hers. At times, he could have sworn she was a celestial being from the stories his mother used to read to him as a child; sent to the World by the Gods. She was the most radiant being he had ever seen, and her caring but fun nature made him love her more each day. Once, he had told her that thought, and her crisp laughter cut joy into his heart, despite its playful and mocking nature.
    She stood on the small porch at their simple farmhouse’s head. Her blond hair seemed to shimmer in the afternoon sun as if it created its own light, and her green eyes were as clear as the sea’s water. She had a full figure but was far from unsightly. Her skin was a gentle pink, like the lilies that grew in the vast open fields just beyond the trees that surrounded the farm. Paulus could see her smile as she recognized his breathlessness. Her expression stole his heart in the best way possible.
        “Paulus, you silly man,” Aemilia laughed, “Come for dinner, my love.”
        “At your behest, my wife,” Paulus made a sweeping bow, with a hand on his stomach and the other stretched behind him; similar to those done in the Empire’s larger cities.
        “I have married a fool,” Aemilia called out as she rolled her eyes.
        Paulus jogged towards the house and with the last few paces, he broke into a sprint. Aemilia tried to run back into the house and screamed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her from the porch.
        “Let go of me!” She laughed as he spun her to face him.
        Paulus scoffed playfully and said, “I could never do that!”
        He buried his face between her shoulder and neck. She tensed and laughed louder, while struggling to get away.
        “Paulus!” She said between laughing gasps. “Your stubble! That tickles!”
        With as much slobber as he could muster, he kissed her soft skin and enjoyed the playful scream that left her lips.
        “Gross!” She complained and laughed.
        He set her down and tilted her chin so he could take her eyes into his own. He loved their closeness and how her breath mixed with his. She blushed as she cleaned the slobbery kiss from her neck and smiled in such a way that made Paulus feel light. It was as if he could float away and nothing else in the world mattered.
        “You are a goof,” Aemilia said.
        “I don’t think you mind,” Paulus grinned.
        “I’ll never admit to that,” She said with a wink.
        Paulus pulled her closer, squeezing any air gaps between them away, and kissed her with all the passion he had. Aemilia returned it and wrapped her arms around his head. Becoming lost to the passion, Paulus found his hands questing down her back. He found her rear, which caused her to bite his lower lip ever so slightly. A pleasurable thrill rolled up his spine. Before he could go any further, she pulled away with a seductress’s grin.
        “Dinner is ready,” Aemilia said, “And you stink from your labours. Go clean up, handsome.”
        She ran her hand up his leg and squeezed his hip before spinning on her heel to enter the house.
        Paulus watched her go and felt like he was dying in all the right ways. Every fiber in his body was alive. It took no small effort to calm the fire running through his blood. He breathed hard and took a moment to enjoy the heat, before making his way to the barrel just off the porch. The water was cool and crisp as he poured it over his face. Dust and dirt tinted the liquid as it ran down his body. He took another ladle full and poured it down his back, pausing to enjoy the water’s cool tickle running down his body. After repeating several more times, he felt clean.
        The sun’s light began to shift to orange, causing the shadows to reach the porch. Paulus took one last minute to enjoy the dying light from the setting sun and being out in the open air. He watched birds glide lazily - with the slight wind in the distance - in an arrow’s shape and took serenity into his heart from the sight. He felt like a child again. Adult responsibilities and stresses fell away from him with the water drops descending his frame.
        “Are you coming in, love?” Aemilia called from inside.
        Paulus shook from his pleasant revelry and smiled. “Be right there.”

II

        The wagon bobbed with the gentle runts in the cobbled road. Paulus could feel Aemilia’s excitement along with his own. He decided to surprise her with a trip to the closest town, Lavici. They were some distance from the Empire’s capital, Carthirose, but Lavici was still an established and civilized settlement opposed to those further north beyond the Old Defenses; the fortresses that marked the Empire’s original borders and once lined the frontier.
        Paulus had once visited the Old Defenses’ with his father. The fortresses dotted the land within each other’s sight every few leagues. He still remembered them fondly. His father described their purpose and grandeur at great length. Paulus marveled at his father’s stories from his days in the citizen legions and wished those days still existed. Carthirose’s Empire was founded by the citizen and the citizen carved out the foundation with strength and purpose. That was something, he felt, the professional Legions lacked. They had no stake in the land and no passion to defend Carthirose - beyond coin and promises for a better future from the Emperor or the senate.
        Those days had passed into memory, just like his father. Many fortresses that made up the Old Defenses no longer bore a garrison due to the Empire’s expansion into the north and every other direction on the compass. Though they were shells from the past, the fortresses were still an imposing sight. Before Paulus and Aemilia had inherited the family farm and before they were married, Paulus had taken Aemilia on a sojourn through the old fortresses, like his father had taken him. Every night they would lay awake in the abandoned court yards, watching the endless stars slowly churn in the heavens and talking the entire night away.
        “What are you smiling at?” Aemilia said.
        “Memories,” Paulus replied as he came back into the present.
        Aemilia pinched his thigh and said, “Of last night?”
        Paulus laughed and began to blush. He met her seductive eyes, feeling heat rise.
        “Of nights we spent under the stars,” He said.
        “Oh, you are such a romantic,” She teased playfully.
        “I don’t think you mind.”
        “It can be quiet taxing at times, but I do my best to put up with your behaviours.”
        Paulus laughed, “I appreciate that you put up with me.”
        “I bet you do,” She grinned, “You are so lucky to have me.”
        “I am!”
        “There is that romance thing coming out from your face again.” She rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner.
        “Still, I don’t think you mind.”
        Paulus laughed at Aemilia’s playful punch to his shoulder. He took his hand off Argento’s reigns and whispered to the horse to be calm from the sudden release in tension on the leather straps that guided the old nag, then wrapped his arm around Aemilia. Passion heated his chest, like fresh flames sprouting from newly cut wood.
        “I love you,” Paulus said.
        “I love you,” Aemilia replied and let her head rest on his shoulder.

III

        Paulus paid Lavici’s Beastmaster three copper coins; a small fortune for him. Only after the, rather plump, Beastmaster tested each coin with his few remaining teeth, did he nod his assent to take Argento and roughly grabbed the horse’s reigns. With one last check over the cart, Paulus took Aemilia’s hand and led the way to the market. It took some time to find their path as people trickled onto the main market street from every possible route. At last, the off-white stone buildings to either side fell away and acted like cliff faces to the bustling man-made valley.
        Lavici’s market was an activity hive. Street vendors pushed into the crowd and roared for attention, while brightly dressed performers danced, juggled, and blew bursting flame blasts into the air from their mouths. To Paulus it seemed like a festival was taking place; to Lavici’s citizens it was an ordinary day at market. The sights, the smells, and the splendor threatened to overwhelm his and Aemilia’s rural senses. It had been sometime since they had visited such a place after taking on a farmer’s lifestyle, but even in the times before the farm, it was a rare treat to explore the Empire’s bustling towns.
        “I can’t believe this!” Aemilia said.
        Paulus smiled and enjoyed his wife’s genuine delight.
        “What shall we do first?” Aemilia asked.
        As if an answer to her question, rich roasted meat smells enchanted Paulus’ nostrils, and he felt his stomach twist with hunger as his mouth watered in turn.
        “I think a meal is in order, so we have the strength to enjoy the market’s pleasures,” he suggested.
        The rich aroma filled Aemilia’s nostrils as well because she bobbed her head eagerly. With some effort, they squeezed through the crowd and found their way to the smell’s source. Paulus exchanged copper for two meat skewers and wine. Aemilia was an excellent cook, but their ingredient selection was limited on their farm, which led to simple stews and flat breads most days. Therefore, after the first bite Paulus devoured his skewer without pause for breath, enjoying the rich juices swirling around his tongue. There was no telling if the meat was poorly cooked as the flavours were so unique to his normal palette that he did not care. He could tell Aemilia was in an equal ecstasy as his own, from how she closed her eyes and savoured each small mouthful.
        They shared warm spiced wine from a single cup and blushed as heat rose to their cheeks. All said, it was a simple meal and did not bare any special extravagance to Lavici’s people, especially on a market day, but to Paulus and Aemilia it was what they imagined Carthirose’s nobility ate daily.
        Paulus gave Aemilia the remaining wine and let her finish, before taking her back into the crowds. They were lost to the wonders around them. In another life, when he did not know Aemilia, he would have been tense at the leisurely pace they took through the street. He would have known what was needed and with quick efficiency would do what was necessary to have his tasks completed. Aemilia, however, stopped at every market stand and was awe-struck by the street performers’ spectacles, which caused the bodies in traffic to divert and protest as they passed her. She did not notice how her travel jarred the crowds and with eager pointing, she pushed Paulus’s attention to the unique sights and goods around them, with delight clearly written on her face. In so many ways, she stood apart from normal educate, but not in any negative way. This made Paulus love her even more. Aemilia had changed him and, for that, he was grateful to take pleasure in the World’s smaller marvels that he never noticed before.

IV

        With their cart loaded, Paulus returned to the Beastmaster and was forced to pay another copper to free Argento. He expected the blackmail and managed to argue the price down to a single coin, rather than the three the toothless man demanded. The haggling did not bother him as much as it once would have in the past. The joy Aemilia expressed throughout the day lifted his spirits to such a degree that nothing could dampen them.
        He secured Argento to the cart’s harness with youthful ease and took no time to hop into the driver’s seat beside Aemilia. With a whip and pull on the reigns, he guided the cart around and down the road to leave Lavici.
        Aemilia nestled beside him and said, “Thank you, Paulus. Today was amazing.”
        Paulus smiled with a schoolboy’s joy after his first kiss.
        “I love you,” She said.
        “And I you.” He kissed her crown and pulled her tighter to his side.
        The sun hung low in the sky but was slow to sink towards the horizon. Spring was pushing into Summer and the world outside Lavici was a colourful natural painting that could only be mimicked by the most skilled artists. Bees and other bulbous insects, which Paulus could not quite identify, flew lazily in the early evening air. Small birds sang their last hymns for the day and housed themselves on the large trees that dotted the fields. A rabbit raced across the road at one point and it took Paulus’s reassuring touch to keep Argento from jolting at the sudden movement.
        Slumber took Aemilia and she breathed deeply against Paulus’s chest. Again, he could not help but think about the joy she brought into his life. Just like any couple, they argued and struggled to find the balance between the chores on the farm and the adventures needed to maintain their love, but they did their best; even though they each sometimes got it wrong on occasion. No matter what, they came together in the end, however; for that - above all - Paulus was grateful. He loved that she put in the effort to love him and he did the same for her. He hoped they would never lose that balance and deep down he felt they would not.
        He looked at his sleeping wife and enjoyed the peace expressed across her face. The pace to return home was slow, as he did not want to disturb her, but he ensured it was steady so they would make it back to the farm just as night took the sky.
        It had been a good day and he smiled.

V

        After a few hours, Paulus guided the cart off the cobbled road onto a dirt path, trenched with thin wheel tracks. It was the final stretch to the farm. The trees that edged the fields and shielded their home from the cobblestoned road’s sight swayed slowly in the evening breeze. The horizon glowed orange and red with the sun’s last rays. Twilight took the sky behind them and various purples consumed the sun’s brighter colour spectrum. The moon was already glowing above the horizon, eager to take the sky.
        Something felt off, but Paulus subconsciously ignored the intuition and focused on the warmth in his chest. The evening was silent. No birds called or animal scurried away from the cart’s loud approach. Not even an insect stirred. Air was still and thick with humidity from the day’s warmth. A chill began to creep along the grass on the path’s edges, causing the greenery to shrink imperceptibly.
        The trees broke away, revealing the farm’s fields. Dying orange light reached through the branches and cast an eerie glow across the open plain. Argento lifted his ears and the horse’s eyes widened in fright.
        “Easy Argento,” Paulus said and tightened his grip on the reigns.
        The cart shook with the struggle and Aemilia startled in her rest. She asked, “What’s going on?” Then paused and said, “Oh we are home already, I am sorry. I must hav-”
        Aemilia was interrupted by Argento’s sudden renewed fight against his harness. The cart lurched. Paulus felt his stomach drop from the sudden change in momentum and it took all his strength to control the nag.
        “Argento!” He cried and gritted his teeth in effort between words, “What has gotten into you, boy!?”
        Froth oozed from the horse’s lips and he whined with madness. Paulus drew the small knife, he always kept on his belt, and slashed at the cart’s harness straps. The leather snapped, rather than cut as pressure was applied by the blade. Argento pulled free, twisted round the cart, and raced with all his strength back the way they had come. Paulus watched the old farm horse and marveled at the nag’s speed. Argento ran, like a young stallion in its prime and did not show his age.
        Frustration overtook his awe, and Paulus said, “What in the god’s name has gotten into him!?”
        “He looked spooked by something,” Aemilia said in a somewhat dazed tone.
        “God’s be damned,” Paulus swore, “I will have to go find him.”
        “Paulus...” Aemilia’s voice turned to fright, “Please don’t leave me.”
        “I will see you to the house, but I can’t leave Argento overnight to the wolves.”
        She nodded reluctantly. Paulus sheathed his knife and jumped from the cart. He turned and offered a hand to his wife. Aemilia took it, and Paulus took her weight as she eased herself down. Paulus led the way down the cart path’s remaining distance. He could tell Aemilia wanted him to stay by how she clung to his side and from his lover’s instinct, but he could not. Argento was their only horse and they would not have enough saved to buy replacement at auction until after this harvest.
        “Please be safe,” Aemilia said as they reached the porch.
        “I will be,” Paulus said, “Although he is a pain in our ass, Argento is family. I can’t leave him to get hurt. Also, we can’t survive this harvest without him.”
        Aemilia bowed her head to hide the tear, “I know. I’ll be here when you get back.” She forced a smile.
        Paulus returned the expression. He turned and opened a hanging bronze lantern at the porch’s highest step. The metal was somewhat tarnished with sickly green spots, but where it was regularly handled, it looked as polished as the day it was crafted. Paulus took the nearby flint stone, hanging from a string on the lantern’s handle and pulled his knife free once again. He struck the knife’s blunt guard along the stone and sparks flew into the lantern, like swarming angry wasps. A few found the candle’s wick and greedily took, becoming flame.

VI

        Paulus made his way from the porch - once he was sure the candle’s flame was strong - and headed back down the path. He refused to look back at Aemilia, knowing she was watching with a face writ in concern; he doubted his courage to venture into the night if he saw her expression. The sun’s last rays disappeared beneath the horizon and clouds obscured the moon’s light. The lightlessness felt like an ominous omen. He held the lantern high so that his night vision would not be impaired by the candle’s direct light. Even still, it did not illuminate this night’s lightless black void, and he could only see a few yards in any direction. The intuition, he subconsciously ignored earlier, curled his guts and he felt the hairs on his neck raise. He took a breath, and it did little to settle his nerves, but he pushed on none the less. It was a matter of survival to continue.
        He reached the cart, set the lantern on it, and took a moment to ensure the wheel locks were secure. There was little chance he was going to be moving it tonight even if he did find Argento, especially with the harness straps cut and torn. With the cart secured, he grabbed the lantern, and took tentative steps into the featureless darkness.
        “Argento!” He shouted into the black, after what felt like an eternity alone.
        Hoping his call would at least stir the horse to give him a direction to search, he swore as there was no response. The unease would not lift, and he could feel his blood increase its speed in his veins. It felt like he was being watched. He kept fighting the urge to look over his shoulder. It was as if something was following him. No, stalking him. Snarling wolf’s teeth entered his imagination and he shivered from a cold sweat that tickled his spine as it ran down his back.
        He stopped in his tracks, at what sounded like a stick snapping sharply to his left and felt something touching him after a tense moment. A low tree branch almost poking his stomach. Even with the lantern’s light he did not see the sharp pointed wood. Only after he stopped did he feel the branch’s point beside his belly button. He let out a breath he did not realize he was holding. A chill ran along his clammy skin. With a sudden realization, the snapping stick had nothing to do with the branch that had almost skewered him.
        “Argento?” He said, in the sound’s direction, far more feebly then he intended. Again, he thought about the wolves that roamed the nearby hills.
        Paulus stood still and his breath was deafening in the soundless night’s void. Not even the wind rose to cut the emptiness in the thin air. As if frozen, he did not move and sought something, anything, with his senses. Whatever caused the noise did not stir again, and he did not know how to feel. He wanted to turn back. His courage was cracking, and his resolve was determining this was a useless gesture, but he could not accept Argento was lost. The horse had a sentimental value to him as well. Paulus had raised the nag from a foal. Argento was family.
        He pushed forward. Tree branches folded around him. He used his free arm to brush them from his path. That did not prevent the undergrowth and saplings from lashing out at his legs and attempting to trip him. He started to become frustrated with the situation and anger began overtake his frayed nerves.
        “Argento!” He screamed, “Please!”
        Silence met his call, once again. Nothing stirred and his last nerves frayed. He swallowed hard and defeat rushed into his heart, crushing his chest.
        The lantern was smashed from his hand without warning and a force took him from his feet. Undergrowth lashed at him and tore his shirt as he fell. A sapling cracked and bent as Paulus’s weight obliterated it. The young tree got its revenge by stabbing its splintered trunk into his lower back's soft flesh, puncturing him as his weight settled onto the earth.
        His breath was pushed from his lungs as a mass dropped on him and pressed down. It snarled, gasped, and writhed. Heavy wet drops splattered on Paulus’s face and he cried out from both pain and the pressing weight.
        “Get off me!” Paulus cried.
        He pushed with all his strength. It was a struggle to get the mass off. Whenever he pushed, its girth shifted and redistributed, like loose potato’s in a sack. Again, it gasped and gurgled in response to the struggle. Paulus could feel the hot heavy liquid that hit his face pour onto his tunic and soak through onto his chest. The liquid had a metallic smell and was sticky, like warm tree sap.
        He cried out again as the broken sapling tore at him, but he managed to wiggle himself out from under the wet mass. The instant his legs were free, he put them under him and ran backwards until a tree stole his flight. Branches lashed at his flesh like a whip, and his torn cloths did little to soften their blow. Paulus greedily gulped air. The torture his body was put through flared. His lower back swelled where the sapling had punctured him, but he could feel a burning hurt roll from the torn skin. Tentatively, he reached to the hurt and hissed in anticipation as he touched the wound. Fresh sting rolled under his skin with a lightning bolts fury. He withdrew his hand as if avoiding a hot coal in a low burning fire.
        “Help me...”
        Paulus sucked in his breath. It took a moment to register the voice and another for his eyes to adjust to the night in order to see the wet mass in the undergrowth.
        “Hello?” Paulus said slowly, as if using the word for the first time.
        “Help me...” The mass repeated and stirred slightly.
        Somehow, Paulus recognized the voice but could not place it. The pain subsided as he focused on the new revelation. He eased himself out from the tree’s trunk. With a sheepish pace, he approached the prone mass. Whether from adrenaline or time without the lanterns light, his eyes were beginning to make out the mass’s form and details in the dark. He could clearly tell it was a man now, but the lightless night hid all specifics as to the man’s identity.
        The clouds in the night sky parted dramatically, as if written in a story to create tension and atmosphere. The moon’s faint blue light cut through the black void and worked between the trees’ branches. Paulus gasped at the glistening trenches and punctures spread across the broken man’s back. Worse yet, he finally recognized the torn face half buried in the undergrowth and screamed.

Let me know what you think. See you next week!

Brett

The Beginning...

    In the infinite void there was nothing but an endless night. Before stars decorated the black, it came. It did not know how it came, or from where. It swam through the inexistence without thought or reason. Whether it was eons or seconds a light formed within the it and for the first time the void was revealed. The space was empty, as far as any of its senses could tell. In that moment, it began to feel and it felt alone... 

    A name rose in its mind, Korwraith - forever to be known as the First. With its name its body formed and it was strong. For a time, physical existence was a gift. It could feel the void's cold against its skin. Cold prickled and tickled its skin. Korwraith laughed with pleasure feeling for the first time. Sensations joy soon ended; once again loneliness overpowered it...

    In time, Korwraith found it could manipulate the void. It looked at its hands and duplicated them. It made the new hands slender and more delicate. Not because it wanted more strength then its creation, but, because it wanted beauty and beauty is fragile, as well as lethal in all its forms. From the hands it made arms, then shoulders, the a chest that did not match its own. On and on it went until a new being came into existence. Korwraith smiled...

    Korwraith carried the new being wherever it went. Holding its hand, the First grew great wings, made from pure light and flew as fast as the wings could push. It wanted the new being to enjoy sensation. When that did not work, the First held it to share its own warmth, hoping that warmth would take hold. It did not. The smile soon faded. No matter what Korwraith did, the new being could not share its joy. It was hollow and still.  Korwraith ran its hands over the new being's slender form and desire filled the First. In a fit of rage, Korwraith lashed out at the void. It threw its power into the great beyond and tore at its face, not wanting to see the unliving beauty it created anymore...

    Whether through fate or luck, the First's torn flesh and blood touched the new being. The flesh became the new being's face and the blood crawled inside, desperate to not be vanquished by the void. Breath came into the new being's lungs and it gasped as cold infiltrated its skin...

    The slender hands reached through Korwraith's rage and stilled it. They drew a hood over Korwraith's face to hide the pain and anguish. The new being could not look at the ruination used to give it life, but was thankful for the sacrifice. It pressed its slender form against Korwraith and smiled with tears rolling down the skin that was once the First's... 

Brett

Chapter 2 - Talinnius

Quick note for the Author: If you are just getting started, the story starts with the prologue.

You can also check out the first Chapter here.

Chapter Two - Talinnius

I

        Duty...
        He thought about that word a lot lately.
        What it meant in general.
        What it meant to him.
        What it meant to others.
        His reflection stared back at him from the still water in the bowl. It sighed with him. He did not cherish what was about to come. The judgement was already made and all that was needed was its execution. He did not know why he insisted on speaking to the damned. But he had insisted on it, and his station, his position, gave him the authority to make such a demand.
        Talinnius splashed water over his face and chased the running drops with a towel. The waters touch was refreshing. It helped him relax. At another time he would have found that funny. He could rarely relax under normal circumstances; considering the current situation, he did not think it was possible to ease his tension. This was not the first time he found this macabre feeling in his gut funny, and nor would it be the last. Yet somehow, the moment about to come felt different from all the other times he had had such a conversation with a condemned man or woman. It was different this time.
        “The prisoner is ready, Talinnius,” A voice called from the doors other side.
        “Thank you,” Talinnius replied, projecting his voice without raising it.
        He took a deep breath and then another. His mind focused and his awareness extended. With a final deep inhale, he entered the battle trance and his mind cleared. The meditative state removed any doubt. He felt every muscle throughout his body and could control them to an almost inhuman degree. This was what made him and made the others within the Order extraordinary. With a few graceful strides, he pushed passed the dull and battered metal door into the cell beyond.

II

       

        “God’s be praised,” The deserter said. “I didn’t think I was that important.”
        Talinnius took the empty chair facing the deserter. He took in the deserter’s condition, smell, and even taste with the battle trance’s enhancements to his senses. Purple bruises and dried blood littered the deserter’s naked body, but defiance blazed from the deserter’s one good eye, while the other was swollen shut and wept fluid. The man even grinned, revealing missing and broken teeth. His hands were chained together, and those chains were secured to the floor behind the chair he resided on. They did not have any give, which forced him to slump in order to prevent the cuffs from digging further into his wrists. Talinnius could tell the deserter’s finger nails had been pulled free by the dried crimson on the chains that bound him. The deserter’s toenails were also removed, and thick blood puddles had dried around his feet. Talinnius could not help but respect the deserter and felt justified for his decision to speak to him one last time.
        The deserter spat a bloody soup at Talinnius’s feet and said, “The true Champion of the Order. This seems beneath one of your abilities and reputation, Talinnius. How did I warrant your attention?”
        Talinnius looked over his shoulder. Two identical black armoured warriors were writhed in shadows at the cell’s periphery. He could not make out their armour’s details but knew their appearance well; it matched his own. They met his gaze and bowed their heads, before exiting – leaving the room to him and the deserter. He knew both well and trusted they would keep the room safe from prying ears from the outside.
        He nimbly unbuckled the strap under his chin with one hand and freed his helm with the other. The helm’s skull-like face plate seemed alive in the dim light. Its eyeless sockets stared with accusation at the deserter and its lipless grin was filled sharp fanged teeth. Talinnius placed it on the ground beside him, facing the deserter so it could stand witness to their conversation.
        “So... the devil I know,” The deserter said to break the uncomfortable silence.
        “Well met, Tettius,” Talinnius finally spoke. His emotionless voice carried through the room like a knife.
        Tettius chuckled mirthlessly, “Well met old friend. I wish it were under better circumstances.”
        “As do I,” Talinnius replied. “Did you really think I would not come?”
        “I thought I would be dead before you had the chance. To be honest, I thought Achamus would have come to administer my judgement.”
        “Why?”
        “Why did I think Achamus would come?”
        “Why did you do what you did, Tettius?”
        Another mirthless chuckle, “You know why, even if your brain can’t yet form the thought.”
        “Why Tettius?” Talinnius voice softened.
        “Is the Order asking?” Tettius asked, “Or are you?”
        “Both.”
        “That’s a damned lie.” This time the laugh was not melancholic.
        Talinnius narrowed his brow and relented, “I am asking you, Tettius.”
        “Good,” Tettius said, “We can get started now.” He paused and took in a week breath. After wetting his palette, he continued, “I did what I did for Carthirose. I did what my oath to Carthirose demanded.”
        “What do you mean?”
        “There was a cancer forming, old friend. I will stand against and fight that cancer until my dying breath.”
        “You know as well as I do, your death is moments away. The only reason you maintain air in your lungs is because I deem it so.”
        “I never knew you were so fond of me,” Tettius said with a sarcastic toothless grin.
        “Tettius,” Talinnius said with a calm voice that held a smoldering volcano’s fury.
        Tettius winced as if slapped, “I still don’t know how you do that. They say magic left the World when the Gods resumed their slumber, but you have magic in you, old friend. To make a grown man, who has killed without remorse, tremble like a child being scolded by a parent is true magic.”
        Talinnius remained silent and stared. It caused Tettius to divert his gaze to the floor and truly slump for the first time. A defeated sigh left his lips and a tear rolled from his battered eye.
        “I did not rebel,” Tettius pleaded, “I swear to you, Talinnius! I did not betray Carthirose or the Order... or you.”
        “Your judgement has already been decided,” Talinnius said without emotion. The trance prevented the hurt he would have felt from broiling inside in his chest. He was as a statue and as cold as ice, despite the pressures caused by what was to come. “It is your choice to commune or not in your last moments.”
        “I wish I could show you Talinnius,” Tettius said, “Then it would all change. You would free me from these chains and care for my wounds. You would place a sword in each of my hands and ask me to charge beside you once more. I am not afraid to die. I am afraid that my death will not be the warning you need to save what we hold dear. You must take up the cause I started.”
        “Rebellion is no cause I will lend my swords too. To think that I would take up arms against Carthirose and her people is folly. You should know this.”
        “They weren’t our people anymore. Why do you think half a legion fought with me at the end? I can tell you the other half would have fought as well had they not already been touched by disease.”
        “Disease?”
        “A plague I have never seen or read about. It consumes... but does not fully kill all it touches. I-”
        Talinnius shook his head and interrupted, “Enough.”
        “Talinnius please!” Tettius one good eye shone with his plea.
        “You burned people alive Tettius in that city! You burned them alive! You slaughtered those who sought to escape! You did this without provocation! You did the same to settlements and farms! You created more instability in the western empire than has ever been known-”
        “Tal-” Tettius interjected.
        “You used your authority to convince Legionnaires to-”
        “They followed me because they saw what I saw!”
        Talinnius continued without pause, “-to slaughter innocents.”
        “I-I... please Talinnius,” Tettius begged.
        Talinnius drew a long needle-like dagger from his vambrace and rested it on his lap. His eyes narrowed and his brow tightened. It was an expression that matched the skull faced helm beside him, except for the mouth. He did not share its sinister skeletal grin, making him all together more frightening.
        Tettius’s shoulders collapsed fully. He closed his one good eye and defeat was clearly written across his battered face. He took in a deep breath and let it out. His voice regained its earlier confidence, “I hope I am wrong, old friend. I hope those men dying outside these walls and I killed it. I hope we burned it from the face of the World. By the Gods, I hope we did our duty.”
        Talinnius stood. He took the two steps to close the distance between himself and the deserter. With an inevitable slowness took the deserter’s hair with his free hand. He pulled the Tettius’s head back exposing his throat and their eyes met.
        “Talinnius, I hope those legionnaires who followed me, and I aren’t remembered as heroes. That’s how I’ll know we stopped it. I hope we are remembered as deserters and criminals.”
        “You’ll be remembered for what you are.”
        “I-”
        The deserter’s speech was stifled by a sickening gurgle. The one good eye widened and then rolled back. Rich thick blood rolled from the deserter’s lips and ran between the sharp-edged joints in Talinnius’s gauntlet. Talinnius pushed the dagger up higher, to its hilt, stealing the deserter’s last breath. He could see the blade’s blood tarnished steel glistening between the missing teeth in the deserter’s slack-lipped mouth. The blade ran from beneath the jaw, up through the deserter’s mouth and tongue, into the skull. It was a merciful death and Talinnius knew he would be questioned for giving such a reprieve to a traitor but did not care.
        Heightened his grip on the hair and yanked his dagger free. His legs felt heavy as he turned away, and he felt the trance slipping. He freed a clothed from his belt and cleaned the blade before discarding the spoiled rag to the room’s corner. He sheathed the dagger in its hidden scabbard and collected his helm. It smiled up at him as he met its gaze. With controlled emotion, he looked over his shoulder and stared at the deserter one last time. He only saw a friend and wonder how such a man could fall so far.

III

        Talinnius sat down in the chair opposite to the deserter once more. He let the trance go and emotion surged in his breast. With his judgement administered, he replayed the conversation and tried to find meaning. Blood dripped as if keeping time from the deserter’s slumped form. After a while, death’s fresh odour circulated the room, but even that did not disturb Talinnius from his thoughts.
        His reverence was finally broken by the cell’s door being opened. he donned his helm as the newcomer walked in. The newcomer wore the same black steel armour as himself and its hard-angular edges were the only thing to reflect the light that made it into the dim cell. Talinnius stood to face the newcomer and stared at the perfect reflection. It should have been unnerving, but it was the most comforting thing in the World to see his mirror image. He had great affection for all who wore this armour - those within the Order; Carthirose’s Champions. Talinnius had an even greater affection for this particular man.
        “Veturius,” Talinnius named the newcomer and his oldest friend.
        Veturius glanced at the deserter and he nodded slowly, “So it is done... Tettius was guilty?”
        “His judgment was determined before I came,” Talinnius said. “You knew that.”
        “What a waste.”

        “I couldn’t agree with you more. He defended his actions but accepted his fate.”
        “That doesn’t sound like a guilty man.”
        “No, it does not.”
        “We deal with our own. Just as the Legion deals with their own.” As if on a signaled queue, a stifled scream made its way into the cell from beyond the stone walls.
        “That we do,” Talinnius replied once the scream died away.
        “Apologies for disturbing you,” Veturius said and presented a scroll, “Its sealed with the Order’s sigil. I thought it best to give it to you immediately.”
        Talinnius took the scroll but did not open it. He looked at the deserter and said, “I want to know what caused this. We need to retrace his steps.”
        He broke the seal and unraveled the parchment. The words were written with an artist’s touch. The lettering and style were familiar to him. He had read letters from the same hand who wrote this one, on many occasions.
        His eyes widened in horror. The parchment fell from his hand, into the fresh blood that had pooled around the deserter’s feet. His hands trembled for the first time in his life. He did not know what to do. Instinct and training compelled him. Without a word, he marched to the cell’s door and was only stopped by Veturius’s hand on his shoulder.
        “What is it?” Veturius asked.
        “I-” Talinnius stammered and then collected himself. “You need to retrace Tettius’s steps on my behalf. Take Attia. Meet me in Carthirose after you find out why he betrayed the Empire. Quintis has summoned me back to the capital.”
        “Summoned you to Carthirose?” Veturius asked, “Why?”
        “I-I can’t voice it.” Talinnius’s eyes darted to letter on the cell’s floor.
        Veturius let his hand fall to his side and knelt to pick up the parchment. Blood had soaked through the fine paper and dripped at its corner. In much the same way as Talinnius, Veturius’s eyes widened as he took in the message’s horror.
        “By the gods-” He breathed in deep order to speak, “I don’t believe it.”
        “Please Veturius,” Talinnius said over his shoulder, “Found out why Tettius acted as he did.”
        “Acham-” Veturius sought to speak the letter’s horrific message.
        “Veturius!” Talinnius used the same voice that ceased Tettius’s sarcasm earlier.
        As if struck, Veturius shook. The glaze departed his eyes and they focused. He met Talinnius’s gaze and nodded slowly, “Forgive me. I will see the task done. You have my word.”
        “Thank you, my friend,” Talinnius said with genuine warmth. “I will see you in Carthirose when your task is complete.”
        “Go, Talinnius,” Veturius urged.
        Talinnius did not hesitate again. He sprinted from the cell and down the narrow tunnel beyond.

IV

        The agonized screams became louder once he left the keep’s catacombs. The fort was minor compared to the grander fortifications the Empire had to offer, but it made up for what it lacked in size with function. Its utilitarian design made it easy to defend, even by a small garrison, and gave it the ability to house an entire Legion comfortably, as it did now. It resided beyond the old defenses – the ancient forts that circled Carthirose’s first boundaries – to the northwest, and it protect the only crossing the river Gracus offered. Although it was relatively new, it had inspired a name that its builders had not given it: the Dreadfort.
        Talinnius wasted no time getting to the stables. He made his horse ready with practiced ease and a haste born from necessity. The horse whined at the sudden disturbance but settled quickly and took on the same urgency, when he mounted it. It rode hard from its stall and he guided it towards the outer wall’s open gate in the screams’ directions.
        When he was through the gate, the sources of the pained cries were revealed. They were lined along the cobbled road like criminals. Veturius was not wrong. The Legions did deal with their own. The death shrieks and moans were a testament to that judgement. Those Legionnaires who had followed the deserter were being nailed upon wood crosses one at a time.
        Most, who were fixed to a cross first, were already dead. Whether from exhaustion or asphyxiation they no longer wailed, and their bowels had emptied. Those who still wailed did not know the full torment they would face over the coming days, having only just faced the nails hammered into their wrists and broken ankles. Legionnaires from the loyal Legions were hard at work erecting a fresh cross and stabilized it in the earth, while others patrolled the prison erected around those who were yet to be punished. The erected Legionary on the cross pleaded for mercy as gravity put his weight onto the nails. Those beneath paid no heed and moved onto the next prisoner in line, without hesitation. Their duty was clear; they were no strangers to enacting this punishment and creating the scene that earned the fort its moniker.
        Talinnius rode through this all without a glance or thought directed towards the mass execution. He was completely focused on the road ahead. It would take him a full day and night to reach the capital without rest. He could not afford the time to witness the condemned.

Brett

Design Process - Ghouls

Hello,

This week I thought it would be fun to go over character designs and show you all the progress on the most current one I am developing - The Ghouls.

As you saw last week in Chapter One (check it out here) Ghouls are a powerful creature in many ways. 

Many Stages

I usually start the design process from the descriptions in my story. I like to describe what's in my imagination and use that as the controlling feature in the later artwork. The visual design is not cut an paste - like all things it takes a few attempts to get it right. 

Ghoul - First Design Art

Here is the first design I came up with. Overall, it hits a lot of the elements I set out to achieve, but it missed the mark in a few areas. The proportions are not quite right and its mouth is to rugged. In my mind I always saw them with a more angular chin. 

Ghoul - Second Design Art

This design changes some of the things I didn't like about the original design. The face is more more proportional but the character is still very muscular looking despite the gaunt appearance given by the concave cheeks and bone structure. 

Ghoul - Third Design Art

With the lessons learned from the first two pieces, I moved onto full body. This is just a (very) rough sketches inspired from source materials and inspirational images. Every artist should maintain a portfolio of inspiring materials give a reference for what they are trying to create. For example, the materials used to inspire this sketch are Gollum from the Lord of the Rings and many many goblins, crones, and malformed witches. Another feature with this sketch is the play with extreme lighting. Just like most monsters, they tend to come out a night.

 Ghoul - Fourth Design Art

In the fourth design sketch, the face is almost perfect, but once again I went to muscular with the body. I tend to draw bigger first, as its easier for me to visualize taking material off, rather than adding it on for whatever reason. Also if you compare this version to what you can see in the version above, the proportions in the body are more human (I was too inspired by Gollum and goblins in the previous version I guess haha).

Ghoul - Fifth Design Art

Here is the final sketch and the image that was just right in my head! This will be the version I will pull together in a final piece of art. As you can see it is in human proportions and deathly thin. It will be interesting giving texture as I always envisioned their muscles being like thin cables that are still immensely powerful. I am looking forward to getting this one done and sharing it soon!

Conclusion

I hoped you enjoyed this look into the creative process I go through when drawing something. I have always been a fan of extra features on DVDs and Blu Rays and wanted to do a basic version of that here. If you like this kind of content, let me know! In the meantime, I will be posting Chapter Two next Tuesday - See you all then!

Brett