Lords of RPG

When Viktor set up camp along the road near Cragmore, it had been meant as merely an over-night convenience.  A tiny camp with a little fire to warm his food.  He had strict instructions to kill the Lich of Cragmore, and this was but an over-night stop on the way to doing his job.  But, it had been months now, and the camp had expanded and evolved into something more permanent.  Viktor had not yet made it to Cragmore.  

This morning, Victor sat on a bench by the fire that he had built with his own hands a few weeks into his unexpected vigil along the road.  He sipped some broth left over from a pot of stew a traveling hunter had shared with him.  Victor watched the road, which passed through the jungle less than a 100 feet from his camp.  Ah...there went another traveler toward Cragmore.

"Call that one over...invite them to rest in a comfortable spot by the fire.  Then let me cut their throat.  I hunger, sword-bearer.  I hunger...."

The whisper itched at the back of Viktor's mind.  It had itched so much lately, that it had figuratively gouged a bloody sore there.  Viktor squeezed his eyes shut, and clenched his fists so that his fingernails bit into the palms of his hands.  "No!"

"No one would miss one lonely traveler.  They are between places...between lives.  What's one more random person lost during their travels through the jungle.  It has been so long since you let me feed...give me this one.  Call him over.  Let me taste him..."

Victor's eyes opened, as sweat ran down his face and dampened his clothes.  He heard his own voice come out of his mouth, but was unsure if the words were truly his.  "TRAVELLER!  COME!  REST YOUR LEGS BY MY FIRE!  SHARE A BREAKFAST WITH ME!"

The traveler stopped and looked toward Viktor's camp.  He was a middle-aged man...in his middle 40's.  His hair had begun to grey and he carried some extra weight around his belt-line.  He carried a traveler's pack on his back, and a short sword on his belt.  "AM I CLOSE TO CRAGMORE!"

Viktor's smile was strained.  "AN HOUR OR SO!  HAVE A BIT OF BROTH WITH ME...AND A TASTE OF WINE TO FORTIFY YOU FOR THE LAST BIT OF YOUR JOURNEY!"

The traveler looked down the road toward his destination, and then back to Viktor's camp...then back down the road again.  He hesitated.  But, then started walking toward his camp.  "Sure...sure.  Thank you for your hospitality.  I've traveled a long road to get here."

The two men introduced themselves, and Walton Smud, the traveler, took a seat opposite Viktor at the fire.  Viktor passed him a bowl and a spoon, and Walton filled the bowl from the pot on the fire.

The voice itched at the back of Viktor's mind again.  "That's it...that's it.  Make him comfortable...make him trust us...then we strike.  Just a tiny cut at his throat, and I'll devour his tasty soul.  He'll not even feel it...he'll not even know what's happened."

Viktor shook his head, and drank deeply from his flask of wine.  "No!"

Walton looked up from his bowl of broth.  "No, what?"

Viktor had a startled look on his face.  Had he said that out loud?  "No...I mean, you shouldn't delay yourself here at all.  Finish the broth, have a sip of wine, and be on your way."

Walton was confused.  "I'm sorry...am I bothering you?  You invited me over."

The voice itched deeper.  "Now you've got him worried...fear will come next.  I offered a quick mercy before my feast, and you will only draw it out and make him suffer.  I hunger, Viktor...and you WILL FEED ME."

Viktor brought his hands to his head and ran them roughly though his hair.  He was soaked with sweat now, and his eyes were red from sleeplessness and worry.  "I know I called you over...but it was a mistake.  You are a bore...a cad...a freeloader.  Finish your broth and get the fuck out of my camp.  BE ON YOUR WAY!"

Walton fumbled with his bowl, spilling it, and then dropped it in the dirt as he clamored to his feet.  "Yes...yes, I'll be on my way..."  The traveler's voice wavered with fear.  

The voice screamed in Viktor's mind.  "FEED ME YOU WORTHLESS SHIT.  I HUNGER...AND YOU WILL FEED ME."

Viktor screamed at the traveler.  "GO!  RUN!  RUN FOR YOUR FUCKING LIFE!"  And then in a quieter voice.  "Don't you dare fucking stop until you reach Cragmore."

Walton ran clumsily to the jungle road leading to Cragmore, almost fell when he reached it, but caught himself and ran down the road until he was out of view.

The voice was angry now, and venom dripped from every word.  "We have a pact, you and I.  And you owe me souls."

"That was never the deal."

"That was always the deal.  Always the deal.  At first you kept me fed.  On robbers and scoundrels you came across.  That was good enough for me.  I was happy with our arrangement.  But, now you starve me.  Now you deny me.  We have a pact, and you will pay the ultimate price if you do not fulfill our bargain."

Viktor jumped to his feet, whipped Blackrazor from its scabbard, and attempted to throw the sword into the jungle.  But, just like every other time he had tried this, the sword was still in his hand.

"Viktor...Viktor...we've been through this already.  You have no choice in this matter.  You should not feel guilty feeding me souls, for you have no role in this except to do as you must.  So, quiet your conscience.  Forgive yourself.  And feed me the next living soul you come across."

Victor sunk to his knees in the mud, the black sword still in his hand.  "I fed you...I fed you people I thought deserved it.  But, the...the look in their face when you devoured their souls.  The sounds they made when they met their fate as your meal...it was too much.  It is too much...too much to bear."

The voice was almost soothing now.  "Then let go, Viktor.  Let me steer the ship for awhile.  Sleep for a bit...quiet your mind.  I'm more than capable of feeding myself, and you don't even have to be a part of it.  When my hunger is satiated, I'll give you a nudge and wake you up.  Go now, Viktor...you've suffered enough pain.  Rest."

Viktor had heard this from the sword dozens of times, and always resisted.  Each and every time, he had made the effort to resist, and put Blackrazor in his place.  But Viktor was tired of this battle of the minds.  He was tired of hurting.  Tired of feeling trapped.  It was pointless to resist.  So, this time, Viktor let go...and fell into darkness.  

-----------------

Viktor was aware of the smell of bacon before he was even fully awake.  He could hear many men talking, and the sounds of a large camp or town all around him.  He opened his eyes, and then stood and stretched.

Military tents were set up as far as he could see in every direction.  The ground was trampled from the many men that occupied this massive tent city.  He studied the men...they were soldiers.  Three of these soldiers busied themselves cooking breakfast at a nearby fire.  By their uniforms, he could tell they were of the Imperial army.

Viktor felt Blackrazor in the scabbard on his side.  But, the sword was quiet.  Content.  It no longer hungered.  He walked over to the three soldiers at the fire.  "Good morning."

They smiled, and answered with "Good mornings" of their own.  The tallest of the men, a dark-haired man with a bushy beard passed Viktor a plate with oatmeal and bacon on it.  "You slept in, you lazy ass."

Viktor chuckled nervously.  "I guess I did."  He struggled with what to say, and then decided he really had nothing to lose.  "Where am I?"

The dark-haired soldier gave him a strange look.  "Not sure what you drank last night, but I'd avoid it in the future, Viktor.  It clearly did not agree with you."

Viktor chewed on a bit of bacon.  "No...seriously.  Where am I?"

The soldier took his own plate and had a seat on a flat rock.  "You, my friend, are poised on the world's anus.  A great battle will soon fall upon us, and most of us will likely die.  But what is new!  We are soldiers of the Empire!"

Viktor shook his head.  "Where am I?"

The soldier looked hard at Viktor.  "You're really not joking around, are you?  You've been with us for days.  We're camped along the North-West coast of the Feron-Jacobe Empire.  You are one of the Emperor's hero-volunteers, or whatever he calls people like you.  In an hour...or perhaps days...or perhaps weeks, we'll stand against an invasion of souless Swalduni and their dragon-brood.  You and your sword are sitting smack dab in the middle of the end of an Age."

Viktor started in on his second piece of bacon.  He had given the sword control...and the sword had brought him to a vast feast of souls.  A great war, so the sword could gorge on the souls of men and Swalduni alike.  Viktor sighed.  How many souls had been consumed on the journey here?  How much time had passed with Viktor confined in darkness?  Did it even matter anymore?