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Demons and Rot

05 Aug

I was almost perfect at stealth missions.  I was silent– no breathing, and I had no lower jaw.  The only flaws in my ability to sneak were a thing called ‘drool’ and another thing called ‘smelling worse than an ogre’s ass’.

Fil’ul obviously had a faulty nose.  He was the one that reeked– soil, death, blood, disease– the whole nine yards.

I pulled myself from my thoughts and wiped the drool from my exposed tongue.  I had to keep my mind on the task at hand.  Slowly, I peered from my hiding place, hidden by some tumbled rocks.  Beside me, my demon dog stared ahead blankly.

He would get in the way of my stealth.  With a wave of my bony hand, I dismissed him and he faded from sight.  Perhaps now, I had a chance at sneaking out undetected… although…

It might increase my chances of survival if I summoned Belnos, I thought.  He had an amazing capability to get things angry at him instead of me.  After a few moments, I called on the blue demon for protection.

Once he floated beside me, I took a deep, unneeded breath, and began sneaking out.  Belnos kept close, but he seemed less worried about stealth than I.  Slowly, we made our way through the twisting, ruined halls of the grounded Draenei vessel.  We passed many demons, large and small, and the fel energies that swirled through the air made me feel.  The sensation of pressure on my feet, of moving through the still air, and the scent of rank death– probably my own rot– made an unfamiliar tightness in my chest, and for a moment, I thought I felt my still heart move.

A commotion caught my attention, and I stepped into the shadows, followed by Belnos.  I rested my hands on his… shoulders… and waited to find out if the noise behind would catch up.  It sounded like battle, and I could hear the sound of a human falling under the onslaught of a succubus’ whip.

Heavy hoof steps stepped in, and a wet, sloppy crunch ended the struggle.  Demonic voices whispered, and I remained in place.

A soft tickle on my tongue drew my attention, and I quickly wiped my drool onto my sleeve before it could drip to the ground.

For a moment, I paused.  Instead of various greys, my sleeve was a dull red.

It was happening again– the same as the countless times I had sex with my own pet succubus.  The combination of undeath and fel energies mixing together restored a small amount of life to me– enough to begin to feel, smell, taste, see, and hear things like I had once before, a long time ago.

The grey-blue crystal walls of the structure gleamed and caught the light from the lamps scattered about, and the golden embellishments shone and reminded me of something from my childhood– an image of heat and liquid, of creation and beauty.  The memory fled as quickly as it surfaced, and I shook my head.  I had work to do, if I wanted my pay.

It was a measly few gold coins and a new robe, but I needed all the gold I could get, and the robe had a higher enchantment on it than my current– which meant I would be able to gather more gold in my travels.

It was an endless cycle, all to save up enough to teach my fliers to manage the cold in Northrend, just so I could repeat the process until I could finally catch up to my guild mate, Fil’ul.

The old troll always seemed to have new stories when the pair drank together, and I never knew if he was making them up.

I shook my head.  Getting distracted would end with my already broken body crushed on the ground, and a long run to rejoin soul with form.  My primary need right now was getting out– and quickly, before I was spotted.  For a brief moment, I looked around before I began moving again.  I was halfway out.

Skitter.  A pebble from the rubble skittered as my foot landed on its edge.  For a brief flash, I felt pain.

A large felguard turned and looked at me.  His grin was like a monster ready to rip my throat out, with sharp teeth and dark eyes.  He began to approach, and Belnos ran at him.  I ran the other way, toward the exit.  I called Belnos to follow me, and he did, though I could feel him falling.

Finally, the demons defeated him.  I was almost out, and I was growing weak.  I backed up against a wall and began to fling spells.  Fire flowed through my long-dead veins, and slowly, each demon dropped.

My mind raced.  I had enough flame inside me now.  I began to use my slowest, hardest hitting spells.  One killed each demon, but as I finished the last spell, and felled the last one, another slammed his axe into my ribs.  The cleaved flesh and bone extended from my left side to my right shoulder, and my soul left my body.

My calculations were off.  My body was broken on the ground, and my soul was yanked through air, earth, water, and more to find its way to a spirit healer.

The sensation of life was gone.  All was grey and dulled again, and it would not regain its color until sufficient fel energies coursed through me again.  I began the long dash back to my corpse.  All around, I saw the shadows of those still living, going about their business as usual.

My legs continued onward.  If I wanted paid, I needed to hurry back and fetch my body– and the artifact– and then still deliver it to the orc that wanted it.

How annoying.

I finally found my corpse and slid in, and then hurried away from the scene before any demons could notice me… after I stole everything those assholes owned, of course.  It was petty revenge, but I felt better.

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