An Addiction to Life
"Marius. You're up."
Scaeva turned his head, old bones croaking as he looked to his side at the Forsaken who called his name. Without speaking Scaeva nodded, standing up from his seat. A pile of armor was in front of him, old in mismatched browns and grays. Scaeva slid each piece on his rotten exterior with care. He pushed money fingers into mail gloves and a half skeletal stomach into his dull browned chest-piece. Finally he picked up the helmet that sat on the floor. Once it shone in the light with two fine white horns on either side. Now it was grim and worn, the only remaining horn dirtied.
Without much care Scaeva walked past the other Forsaken towards an open archway. There, leaning against the wall were his sword and shield. The shield was round and hard steel, emblazoned with bronze skull. There were scratches over the shield but it still looked strong as ever, ready to weather whatever punishment was to come. And the blade... Simple, black hilt lacking jewels or beauty, just a leather binding. Blade of good iron, sharpened to a fine point. Scaeva picked these tools up, sliding the shield over his left hand and grasping the blade with his right.
"Make your last fight a good one Marius." The Forsaken nodded at Scaeva before motioning towards the archway "Enjoy it."
Scaeva returned the nod before walking through, into a shallow pit. Around him were a small group of stands filled with Forsaken. Some stared down with grim expressions while others cheered. Scaeva turned his head around. In front of him was a human, tattered and broken. Yet, when he gazed at Scaeva a rage came about him, a rage mixed with a glimmer of hope.
Scaeva returned the human's look with an expressionless face. The hollowed out pits in his head that were once eyes looked at the human blankly as if devoid of any emotion at all. Despite this, the Forsaken's mind was alight with thought.
Does he really still think he will find freedom, Scaeva wondered.
Even if he were to defeat me... him broken as he is. The thought! Does he really think he would be released, allowed to run home? I suppose it is left for me to crush this weakling and again show my might.
With that Scaeva rushed at the human, sword poised to aim at his stomach. For the living it would have been adrenaline that took over at this moment, pushing through the blood and delivering energy that one could not know without action. But for someone dead like Scaeva it was different, almost like the feeling was simply the remembrance of adrenaline...
The human waved his hands in the air and fire bursted out from his palm, a great wave flowing outward. Scaeva stopped mid-run, raising up his shield to meet the flames. It was then when the fire collided with his shield that vibration pulsed through Scaeva's body. His chest heaved and his mouth opened, as if there was some sort of necessity to take a breath of air. The vibrations continued to... almost tingle through his body as Scaeva slowly advanced, flames pouring over his shield in an unending onslaught.
Scaeva became focused, his chest now heaving in and out regularly. He felt sweat running down his head as the heat intensified. Suddenly Scaeva's entire body felt moist. He let out another breath.
The sensation of of wind as it blew against the hairs on his body...
Breathe.
Moist skin as the sweat drenched him...
Breathe.
Heart pounding as his breathing accelerated, shaking his chest...
Breathe.
The repulsive smell of burning flesh...
Scaeva suddenly launched forward, lunging off his back foot until his blade made contact with the human's neck, making a quick diagonal strike. The human's spell stopped and blood gushed from his neck and mouth before he fell to the ground. Scaeva turned to face the cheering. His hand instinctively went up to wipe his brow of the sweat but dry dead flesh just rubbed against dry dead flesh, no moisture to be found. Scaeva's chest ceased to move, his breathing at end.
He turned, and exited the archway for the last time.
On its opposite side a different Forsaken stood, dressed in green cloths and holding a blue-green staff.
"Well done Scaeva. Now, its time we go..." The Forsaken eyed Scaeva silently for a second more before turning on his heels and walking off,
"There is work to be done."
An Obsession With Undying
Two human men stood tall, both in in light leather with swords drawn. Their eyes glared ahead, staring at a Forsaken who sat in their path. One of the men walked forward, pushing his blond hair backwards before pointing his sword at the Forsaken.
"Well brother, looks like our lucky day. Another bit of muck in the world for us to clean."
Manaros looked up towards the two from his seat on the ground. His eyes were hollowed out, empty cavities, staring up blindly at the humans yet seeing everything. In his hands he clutched onto the middle of a staff whose bottom was planted firmly in the ground. "Now why would you attack me? I was simply meditating..." Manaros got on his feet, showing his bare chest with strange brown tattoos on rotten flesh and exposed bone. "Did I somehow disturb you travelers..?"
The blond human continued to speak, his frown deepening, "You disturb the world with your presence. Another undead monster for us to clean."
Without another word two humans started to run towards Manaros the blonde leading the charge with his blade swinging wildly. Manaros smirked, muttering softly, "Mirnva, come and get rid of this trash." Suddenly Mirnva leaped from behind Manaros, shedding off her invisibility. Her wings flapped as she lashed out at the blond human, her whip tying around his neck and bringing him to the ground.
The second human stopped, shocked as his ally fell to the ground, a succubus now sitting on his back while choking him dangerously with her whip. "Jerek," he shouted as his brother started to suffocate. Then, with sword swinging he started to rush at the succubus, Mirnva's eyes lighting up with fear as she saw the blade approaching.
Manaros took in a breath of air., holding out a hand. From it a stream of purple energy rushed forward. Fel flowed through Manaros' body, suddenly lighting him up with energy, his eyes intensifying. His muscles felt as if they were tensing, warmth and rushing excitement making his body quake.
The purple energy hit the rushing human, making him drop his blade and hunch over. Moments later Manaros' attack left the human's body dead on the floor while Manaros himself held in his hand a purple crystal, "Release him Mirnva." As commanded the succubus' whip came loose, Jerek falling on the ground, gasping for breath while looking at his brother's crumpled body.
"Murderer," Jerek called out, "How dare you take my brother's life!"
Manaros took in another breath, warmth now flowing through his chest, up to his head, making him feel the heat of anger, "You were going to take my life! And you accuse me of murder?"
"Your life ended already! You don't have one," came Jerek's weak cry, his attempts to scream broken up by his hurried breathing.
A shiver ran through Manaros' body the quaking becoming more intensified as he felt his nerves pop with anguish. He held the purple crystal, making it shine before suddenly dissipated, "In death you wake..."
Suddenly, a figure started to form in front of Manaros, first rough and shaky but slowly becoming more defined. Manaros took another breath, feeling the soft beating of his heart, "... Crypt you shake." Finally the figure was complete, a ghostly version of Jerek's brother, some of his feature's clearly recognizable while others skewed and shifted, while his entire body was now ethereal.
Jerek became overcome with fear as he stared up at the apparition, unable to speak or move. Then came Manaros' voice yet again, lower than it had been before, dropping to a deep drawl, "While air I breathe." With that the apparition launched itself at Jerek, forcing itself into his body, causing the human to scream out in pain as the soul coursed through it.
Every fiber of Jerek's being was attacked, his teeth chattering as sweat dripped from his body. He grabbed at the ground, ripping away the grass and dirt. Even at his own skin, digging into it with his nails so deeply that blood started to pour. Finally, Jerek fell motionless, slumping over on the ground.
The soul rose from Jerek's body, it too motionless for just a second. Then it rushed into Manaros' body, filling him with the energy of life. Rotten sinew turned to fresh muscle and living fat and the weak beating of his heart returned to its strong solid thump. Even sight seemed natural, as if eyes formed in those old sockets, black pupils looking at a fresh world.
Then, as quickly as those feelings came, they vanished... And Manaros stood again as simply a Forsaken, muttering coming from between dried up lips, "And life I thieve."