[Mkguild] Prepared for Sacrifice pt 7

[Radioactive Toast]

 The knife and the darkness.  

 It was always that choice; he had to choose between one or the other.  

 [i]Choose[/i].

 “Why?”

 [i]Choose[/i], came the repetition.

 “Why!?” Zyn demanded to the void, “Why, why, [i]why!?[/i]  Just give me a damn answer!”

 [i]You do realize you’re just dreaming and unconscious, don’t you?[/i]

 That one took Zyn by surprise; every time he had been here he had never encountered that level of frankness.  But it was true nonetheless.

 [i]Awaken[/i]...


* * *


 Zyn’s eyes snapped open rather quickly, quicker than they should have given... well, he couldn’t really say that for certain.  But he was definitely fully awake.  The pounding rain and the thrashing wind told him so, as did the more mundane sensation of one of his headaches.  At first he couldn’t tell where he was, but a colossal arc of lighting illuminated his surroundings enough for him to see he was apparently on top of the plateau, the second, smaller inaccessible one.  

 Out of all misfortune, the rain at least seemed to be dying down, and examining it Zyn discovered Parn on his back next to him.  As his eyes adjusted, he saw however that the plump mage was petrified, rooted to the spot, eyes very wide open.  That could only mean...

 Sure enough, the deep resonation breathing of something absolutely enormous was right behind him, practically on top of him.  The monster’s overwhelming presence shredded every bit of courage that Zyn could muster, nay, all the courage he had ever mustered in his entire life combined.  Inevitably he found himself scooting, backpedaling on his back at a frantic but not quite too frantic pace, lest the monster be agitated too much.  In so doing he bumped into someone else, two people actually, Pols and Grumiah from what he could make out, waking them up in the process.  “Wha...?” Pols mumbled as he was roused from his likely induced slumber, before hearing the breathing and seeing the dark shadow before them.  “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh...”

 “Mommy...” Lum finished behind him, apparently woken up as well by Zyn’s rustling.  All six of them lay prostrate before the great and terrible shadow that towered before them, which aside from its omnipresent breathing made not a sound or gesture.  It just... stood there.  For minutes it stood there, sapping their will to stand up, sapping every bit of courage from them.  It was a hell unto itself.  

 Another flash of lightning lit a distant portion of the sky behind the monster, enough that Zyn could distinctly see its outline, which, though he couldn’t be absolutely sure, looked very much like a dragon.  Then, it spoke.

 “You will do exactly as I say,” it declared in a voice that was quiet yet dripped with power and threat, full not of dark contempt, but merely of fact, damning, horrible fact that could with the slightest effort rip their souls from them.  “On your bellies.”

 With a few audible gulps from the others, all six cast aways complied, rolling over on their bellies in a most undignified manner.  “Shrill,” the dragon commanded.  [i]Shrill?  What could that possibly mean?[/i], Zyn thought.  “Shrill.  Do it,” came a darker command.  Realization dawned as it meant make a shrill noise.  Oh great Eli; images of deadric rituals and sacrifices came to mind, of dark chanting and unholy sacrifices.  Was that...? 

 Next to him Pols and Lum had already started, making as shrill a noise as they possibly could, to be joined soon by Parn and Grumiah, creating an off pitch cacophony that was reminiscent of the shriek of those facing judgment before Eli.  Behind him he heard Lorian give in and join the piercing chorus, leaving only Zyn silent.  This fact did not escape the horrible dragon and even though its face was obscured by the darkness, he could feel its twisted hideous eyes boring into him, crushing his heart and suffocating by presence alone.  Zyn slammed his eyes shut and he too joined his fellows in the dragon’s bidding.

 “Curl into yourselves.”

 What kind of devilish ritual the dragon was even now causing them, all Followers, to partake in Zyn didn’t know, but it was all that he could do but do as their captor demanded; he curled into a tight fetal position, all the while continuing his unnatural shrilling.

 Zyn’s voice was beginning to ache at this point, but as he struggled to keep it up lest the dragon instantly destroy him he felt a strange power reach out and sustain him, causing his throat to cease its weariness.  With a start, Zyn realized that he could keep this up for a long while, which must have been exactly what the dragon was planning.  It was sustaining their shrilling so it could complete its plan for them.  That sealed it for certain.  The dragon was casting a demonic spell fuelled by dark ritual and forcing the six feeble men to participate in their own demise.  

 The rampant fear and terror was only amplified when the dragon utter several, low, indistinct phrases that seemed to permeate the entire plateau with dark, unholy energy.  “Now,” it added after a minute of incanting, “insert your fingers into your nostrils.”  

       Madness, that’s what this was, absolute and utter madness.  Beside him he heard Parn break and begin sobbing even as he attempted his utmost to continue their unwilling, unholy cacophony.  Zyn was too terrified to do almost anything but that which the dragon commanded.  He had faced sickness, he had faced ridicule, he had faced hatred, he had faced slow death, but never, not once in his life had fear such an overwhelming clasp on his heart, on the verge of choking the very life out of him.  It compelled him to do as the dragon told them.  Zyn’s mind raced with what it could be part of; some spell to influence their breath, maybe the area would fill with a poisonous, noxious gas as part of the ritual.  Whatever it was, it had the overwhelming stench of satanic darkness.

 “Back and forth.  Sway,” the dark voice spoke.  It was a voice that was so terrifying it did not have to speak boldly or with malice; its very essence was unbridled power.  It was power that was such it need not bother with pretention; when it spoke, the earth moved before its awesome might.  

 So sway back and forth he did, though he was likely selling his soul in partaking of this profane ritual, this cursed abomination of the demonic world.  Inch by inch, he was surrendering to the power of darkness, even though he knew what path that would take.  But before the power of this dragon, this demon, he had no choice.  No choice!  What was he to do?

 There was a great slam upon the plateau, shaking the entire rock beneath their feet.  Zyn’s first instinct was to open his eyes, even though he suspected that he would not like what he saw; but he did anyway.  He was rewarded with the sight of the dragon on its back.  Was it surrendering to the powers of darkness so that it might serve as an unholy channel?  But Zyn’s entire mind was sent for a loop when he realized that the dragon was laughing.

 It was rolling on its back laughing like a giddy school girl.

 What... the crap?

 The dragon was laughing so hard it seemed to be crying, though it was hard to tell in the dark and with all the rain, even though it was letting up.  

 A bewildered Zyn passed his gaze upon his fellows, who too had just been roused from their doomed ritualistic submission just as he had and were staring at the massive dragon as it laughed hysterically.  Grumiah was the first to break the stunned silence.  “What... what was that?”

 The answer came, surprisingly, from the dragon.  “Funny as hell, that’s what it was.  Oh,” it wiped its eyes, “That was the funniest thing I’ve seen in years!”

 Zyn could hardly believe his ears.  “...Funny?”

 “Oh yeah, it was a riot,” it got up and stared at them with eyes, now that Zyn could see them, that seemed vibrant, energetic and even hyper in the darkness.  “You do realize you, all grown men, were all curled into fetal positions sticking your fingers up your nose, wobbling back and forth and shrilling like a bunch of babies?  You don’t call that funny?”

 Pols’ face contorted in abject confusion and small but exploding outrage.  “Are... are you?...  Eli damnit are you [i]kidding me!?[/i]

 “Wait, wait, lemme think,” the dragon declared putting its claws up to its chin in a contemplating manner.  “Nope, no kidding, I was having fun totally screwing with you poor bastards’ brains, and I was enjoying every minute of it!” the dragon declared like an exuberant five year old.

 The cast aways exchanged glances, and it was clear that they all couldn’t decide whether they should be relieved or more scarred than ever.  “So,” Lorian ventured humbly, “you’re not going to eat us then?”

 “Probably not,” the dragon said, “Only if I get [i]really[/i] bored.”

 Zyn gulped at the dragon’s casual address of their edibility.  Pols, however, had had enough of being afraid and all the pent up fear and anxiety exploded.  “Well then would you care to tell us just [i]why the hell you put us through that in the first place!!?[/i]”

 The dragon seemed to regard the sailor’s demand for a moment before casually curling his tail and womping him to the ground.  The next moment Pols found himself face to face with the dragon’s creepily exuberant face which declared, “I already told you, it was [i]funny[/i].  Now then,” it said as it released the terrified sailor, smiling, “Who wants to have more fun!”  Upon the predicable utter lack of enthusiastic cheers, the dragon suddenly looked wounded and sad.  “Nobody?  Aw, that’s sad, but oh well.  We can always do some more fun stuff later.  Anyways, I’d like to welcome you all the Island of Me, home of me, myself, and a bunch of rocks... and shrubs... and coconuts... and other stuff.  You may all call me Me, but since that would be confusing you may address me as the Great Monkey Eviscerator.”

 Upon the bewildered stares the dragon received upon that, it shrugged.  “But you can all just call me Xayk instead, ‘cause that would be easier.” 


* * *


 The one thing that Zyn couldn’t complain about was at least he was someplace dry and out of the rain.  Ever since the storm on the ship they’d been at the utter mercy of the elements, rain or shine (though admittedly there’d been more shine than rain), but here at least in the dragon’s cave they at last had some reprieve.  The [i]insane[/i] dragon’s cave.

 Strange as the great beast may have been, they found a massive bundle of firewood already waiting for them when they arrived, ever more wet and dreary as they were brought to the cave via a tortuous flight through the rainstorm.  The only problem of course was that it wasn’t lit, and in the nearly pitch black cave they stumbled around several times trying not to knock each other over.  Impatient and chilled to the bone, Lorian approached the dragon who was even now watching them all settle.  

 “Eh, Xayk, you wouldn’t be able to light up this firewood you’ve assembled for us, would you?” he said deferentially.

 “Can I do it while I dance like a monkey?” the dragon responded with insane amounts of enthusiasm.  
 
 “Um...” Lorian stopped at a loss for words, “Why... do you have to dance like a... monkey?”

 Rather than respond directly to Lorian’s question, Xayk instantly started stomping around in the dark, spinning in circles and knocking several of the men over with his tail.  “What makes you think I can start a fire huh?” the dragon squealed as he danced like a maniac.  “Only older dragons can breathe magic crap you know.”

 “Er...” Grumiah said as Xayk finally began to calm down.  “And are you old, then?”

 “I’m negative forty two years old, that’s how old I am!” the dragon declared in a proud fashion. 

 The sound of soft chanting filled the room followed by sparks and crackles as flame quickly found root in the stack of wood and kindling and morphed into a raging inferno in seconds.  Zyn stared at the firewood stunned to see none other than Parn standing over the now roaring flames, who finished chanting and plopped to the ground exhausted.  On the other side of the cave Lum whistled amazed.

 “It... it had some form of fuel already on it,” the puckered out mage said as he lay down against the stone floor.

 The cave well illuminated now, Zyn caught his first good glimpse of their host.  A thirty foot long brown scaled beast smiling excitedly at them, sitting upright on his haunches like an attentive dog.  His dull brown color was unremarkable, and his build seemed to be lean but not excessively so.  Unlike some depictions of dragons he had seen, Xayk lacked adornment of built up scales and striking horns, instead his body seemed to emphasis form over natural ornamentation.  The only thing truly striking were his eyes; orange irises of a rather odd bright color that pierced right into Zyn’s soul.  Zyn gulped and turned his attention to getting warm by the fire, trying his best not to think about the dragon’s creepy gaze.

 All the men wasted no more time in shedding most of their drenched clothes and huddling around the fire, shivering but in a state of bliss at the warm relief that the flames provided.  “Ooh, you’re all taking your clothes off.  Does that mean someone’s going to get raped?” Xayk asked innocently.

 The dragon was officially beginning to creep Zyn out at this point.  Was he really as nuts as he was appearing?  Maybe being the only sentient being on the island had something to do with it.  He had to confess he knew very little about dragons aside from stories, so he didn’t really know if they were social or antisocial to any real degree so he wasn’t in a position to make any concrete judgment; it was an ignorance that irked him.  “Um, no,” Zyn said, “no... raping.”

 “Oh.  Cannibalism then?”

 Zyn turned a flabbergasted look at the dragon.  Maybe he had just lived most of his life alone and didn’t know how to socialize very well, whatever that meant for a dragon.  “Are you...” he couldn’t believe he was openly asking this of a creature that could easily rip him in half, but he did so anyway.  “Are you just insane or something?”  He heard Lum take a sharp intake of breath at Zyn’s rather abrupt question.

 “Probably.”  The level of frankness in that answer indicated a rather startling degree of self honesty.  But... how...

 “So then,” Grumiah said as he warmed himself, “it was you who was causing all the noise at night?”

 “Yup,” Xayk grinned exuberantly.  “I did that.  Making noise, moving trees around.”

 “Imitating me,” Pols added indignantly.  

 “That too.  It was a fun role to play; I like playing assholes.”  Pols scoffed crossly, but clearly not wanting to argue with the huge creature even given its seemingly amicable nature.  

 Zyn’s stomach rumbled with discontent, and he realized that all the food and provisions, meager as they were, that they had stored were back at their camp.  Lorian noticed the audible gurgle and raised an eyebrow.  “You wouldn’t happen to have any food in here, would you?” he asked the dragon.

 “Nope, but I can get some,” he declared, and suddenly moved forward, sending the six men shrinking back fearfully, thinking that he was about to “get” some food from them.  Instead of moving against his guests, however, Xayk spread his wings and thrust himself out of the cave and into the storm outside.  

 “Um, is anyone else utterly creeped out?” Zyn asked.

 Lum openly shuddered.  “That dragon’s going to be in my nightmares for [i]years[/i].

 
 		 	   		  

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