Rustling grass. Snapping branches. The raspy breath of an unnamable creature, muffled by an iron shell. Whatever it might be, it dashed across the colorless plains at a maddening pace – as fast as the malformed, almost human hands could carry it. Its left hind leg, the color of coal and covered in thick veins that barely contained the rippling muscles, bled profusely from a vicious gash left behind by a mortal blade. Similar wounds could be seen along its side, three punctures left in its rib cage that oozed with the unclean blood of a beast. Though quick on its hands and feet, the creature was forced into an awkward limp by the numerous injuries left on its misshapen body – its agony expressed clearly through the pained moans that escaped the tightly shut, iron hull bolted to what should be its head. Though possessed of a formidable body, there was a white hot panic in the monster as it was chased down the grassy slope by a bloodthirsty pursuer – a humanoid silhouette whose details remained vague in the twilight of darkness, but which clearly carried a spear of sorts, and which could run at a pace quick enough to keep up with the wounded creature.
Running and tumbling down the incline, the hunter and her quarry arrived in a quiet field, blanketed by a very faint, low hanging layer of mist. Ahead of them, somebody had erected a short fence a long time ago to contain what looked like an old cemetery. With little respect for ancient craftsmanship or the sanctity of the dead, the fleeing monstrosity leapt over the iron railing, its wounded leg lifelessly slamming against and putting a dent in the material before being dragged after the rest of the body. Not long after, the dark warrior in pursuit traversed the obstacle as well, and with the grace of a wolf that smelled blood, was only slightly slower than the beast. Circling in the black heavens up above, a loyal hawk awaiting the return of its master would see spectacle unfold without obstruction – even if it could never share the violent little tale of how a woman clad in dusky furs wrested the life from a beast that nobody in this world, or any other, would feel pity for. Breathing heavily, the iron-faced abomination crashed through gravestones, some already broken, others still intact, on its furious getaway. The trail of blood left behind grew thicker since before, and its pace decreased until eventually, tumbling over a particularly large slab of a headstone, it came to a halt. The entire torso, black as night and pulsing with flesh, heaved with every strained breath that sent puffs of white smoke out of tiny slits in the iron mask’s surface. Unable to move its left hind leg and out of options, it crawled on its two hands to turn around and face its pursuer head on.
For a brief moment, the two of them ceased to move and stared at one another, each of them feeling uneasy, each of them knowing that the next moments were going to be very unpleasant. The warrior caught her breath, singular eye panning over the creature’s body, already dissecting it for possible angles of attack – and sections of good meat. A frontal assault would prove difficult, given that its head, which was the most prominent frontal feature, was heavily armored and turned out to be nigh on impervious to any of her weapons. Additionally, its two unnaturally long arms were still uninjured and easily strong enough to swipe her aside or even crush her body. Its flanks, she knew from her earlier encounter with it, were vulnerable – the ribcage was long, torso slow to turn. The arms had trouble reaching this far to the side, the legs posed no threat. The rear, though undefended, would not suffice to inflict a lethal injury. One more alternative would be to get onto the creature’s fur-covered back, to penetrate its body from there or to cut into the neck. She swallowed and steeled her resolve, grimy hands clutching tightly around the thick shaft of her glaive.
Gritting her teeth, she burst into motion with a primitive growl, launching her full body weight into a deadly sprint towards the beast’s side. With a shrill scream of protest, eerily unsettling in how humane it sounded, the monstrosity swiped at her with its long arm to try and catch her with the open palm – only to find itself penetrated all the way through by her glaive as the two entities collided at full speed. Even so, the hand had enough momentum to knock the warrior down who, still holding tightly onto her favored weapon, lay on her back above a shallow grave, an enormous hand twitching unnervingly just above her and bleeding profusely upon her entire body. Grunting, she let go of her glaive and rolled out from under the hand, which now collapsed onto the ground. Being quick on her feet, she got away just in time before the other arm could reach over to try and catch her, and she now found herself next to the creature’s vulnerable rib cage, still bleeding from the three punctures she had inflicted on it in its sleep. Clearly it was not a enough of a wound to kill it, so she had to strike at a more lethal place; thus she pushed one of her leather-bound boots into one of the bleeding wounds and, using it as a macabre sort of stirrup, lifted herself onto the monstrosity’s back. With one hand grasping the long, grayish-black fur, she drew her iron sword and began crawling towards the neck.
Whatever twisted gods were trying to twist her sense of guilt, she gave the bone-chilling cries of the beast no second thoughts, even when she could have sworn to have heard an audible “No!” in between bestial whining under that iron helmet. In a last ditch effort to get her off its back, the abomination reached towards its neck with the only uninjured hand it has left, but it would turn out to be its last mistake. As it could not see what it was reaching for, the nameless vagrant avoided its crooked fingers and grabbed the arm by the wrist, pinning it behind the creature’s back. Strained moans escaping from bared teeth, she only barely managed to restrain the hideous arm, but was able to do so for long enough to ram her sword into the forearm, right in between the splitting bones, severing muscles and tendons. Then she pulled it out and stabbed it again, and again, each time faster and more violent than the last time. By the end of it, she was screaming “Die! Die!” as her blade penetrated limp and dying meat before she finally let go of it – the abomination gave up all resistance at this point, and had collapsed upon itself, its chest only heaving in what could be described as the weeping of a creature that resigned to its fate. The last thing it beheld was a view of the mausoleum entrance in the center of the cemetery that would become its burial ground before a blade of tempered iron dug into its neck, and the world became black.
***
Limbs restrained, vision milky. Tall, ghastly figures, impossible to be human, congregating around mineself. Terror. Panic. The searing pain of tools, conceived in fevered dreams, sinking into the flesh. And then they brought the mask – a hideous invention of cold iron, placed upon the skinless head. Screws dig into the bone. Agony. Emptiness. Hunger… and then the restraints burst apart.- Acquired Memory of the Misshapen -
***
A lonely tear rolled down the vagrant’s dirt smeared cheek when she came to, feeling very different to how she felt before. The bloodlust and euphoria was gone, replaced by a sense of overwhelming dread and nostalgia for something that was lost. She looked down at her hands, completely drenched in filthy, oily blood and the palms still clenched around the grip of her sword stuck in the neck of this hulk of black muscle that she sat upon. It was a rare event, but she had killed monsters before – the weaker ones, those prone to flee when ambushed or injured. But this was different from those times. They did not have memories, none that she was aware of – and yet, this one did. She saw it. Felt it. Cried for it. This creature, this monster she had slain… could it be that it was still sentient, somewhere underneath that expressionless, iron mask? That would mean that, perhaps one day, this creature would walk the land betwixt again, only lacking that one memory of how it was conceived. Perhaps it was its last remaining shred of hope in this world – she had not stolen its life, but its sanity.
She remained silent and motionless for a while as she contemplated her actions. In the end, she decided it was for the best; judging by what she had learned about this beast, it might be better off being oblivious to its own tragic fate. Besides, it had done her a great favor by not only nourishing her body, but sustaining her own sanity, endowing her with its final, parting gift of memory. With a sigh of exhaustion, she pulled out the sword from the brute’s neck, the blade making a sickening, wet sound as it was pulled free from coagulating flesh. Staring with a vacant eye, she wiped the bloodied blade against the long furs along its spine, washing off all but the most resilient of gore. She leapt off from its back, which reeked of filth, and landed on her feet with a gentle “thunk” from the damaged shield strapped to her back before returning her sword to its sheathe. On her way to retrieve her glaive, she wondered how much blood was actually staining her body – it was difficult to tell in the prevailing darkness. Probably more than she could ever wash out from them; she’d have to settle for carrying around another memento against her will, but at least it wasn’t a scar. While pulling the glaive free from the beast’s hand into which it had been lodged, her gaze was drawn to the ancient crypt entrance, illuminated as it was by a pair of sconces flanking the entry. No amount of curiosity could ever convince her to set foot in this decrepit place, but as she stared at the antediluvian construct, perhaps she would hear the faint sound of combat coming from within the bowels of the earth – or maybe she would stand ready to greet any who would escape from the clutches of the cold darkness below. Who could tell what would develop from here on? The only thing that was clear to the gods was that many threads of fate converged in this resting ground for the dead, like a nexus of destiny.
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