Wednesday, 18 July 2007

Drugs don't kill people, demons do

“This is shit.”
“No, what we’re standing in, I think its Warg shit.”

Sploodge put one skinny finger into the mysterious substance. A small, still warm piece came off under his fingernail. Placing it to his stubby nose he took an extended whiff. It was excrement, true enough but not a Warg’s. For a start it was too puny, in both mass and smell. No, he’d only seen this once before when the creature that it belonged to had had its stomach sliced open and along with all the multi-coloured organs and liquids that had spilled out, there had been one of these. Less solid but still one of these.

He knew that the droppings belonged to a human. Bollocks, what to do? They couldn’t go back and risk the bastard sneaking up on them. But Sploodge’s new ward was the rawest of recruits. Vret had quite literally been born yesterday, with all the knowledge of his parents but none of the actual experience. They carried on down the dark and damp corridor. Sploodge knew that the next turning was a dead end.

Each took a dose of the Purple Moss, breathing it in deeply for its supposed ability enhancing affects. They got themselves into position and with the most blood-curdling scream Sploodge could muster from his whizzing lungs, they charged round the corner. Vrek was the first to spot the human outline in the din. His youthful exuberance over powering any rationality, he sped axe first at the silhouette. As these encounters sometimes go, Vrek didn’t even engage in combat, before he could swing he’d failed to notice another turd left in the middle of the floor. Slipping, his skull cracked as it smashed against the stone slabs.

The mysterious stranger emerged from the shadows. Sploodge didn’t recognise the attire at all. Where was the armour, the shield, the larger than thou religious insignia?

“Well, speak, brigand! Why have you come to this place?” He shouted enraged.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about blud. Man’s just found some alley down my breadrin’s road and I came in to have a little puff yeah. Serious though, this purple stuff ain’t good for you, I’ve been shitting all over the place, give ‘en me proper the shits, yeah.”

Sploodge was confounded by the human’s strange tongue. Still, it made no difference. If he didn’t bring back his head he’d be severely punished and be haunted constantly by Vrek’s mother’s unforgiving looks. That’s that then. Sploodge raised his axe.

“Oh its like dat is it, rude boy? Man’s got a borra too you know” The stranger reached in to their hooded apparel and withdrew a large knife. “Yeah and what?”

They ran at each other, weapons raised. The stranger inexpertly tried to slice at Sploodge’s midsection but the heavy iron wrought armour that covered most of his body deflected the blade. The incredulous look on the stranger’s face was replaced by one of abject terror as Sploodge’s axe flew in an arc and separated the stranger’s head from his body. He removed the hood from the head but decided to leave the helm with the protruding visor that had the symbol of a bending arrow and the word Nike inscribed on it.

After a long march through a labyrinth of tunnels, Sploodge reached the main hall. He saw the welcome sight of fellow Goblins and Pit demons. He gave a brief report to one of the administrators and then sat by the great fire as his report was relayed to the Dungeon Lord. As he waited, he examined the head of his fallen foe more closely. How strange this human was. He had small precious stones fastened to both ears, what appeared to be a gold tooth and this soft Nike helm.

Sploodge was summoned and before long was standing in front of the imposing Dungeon Lord. He’d once been human they said. The Purple Moss had both corrupted him but also allowed his powers to manifest. Now he stood towering in the latest overlord fashion with billowing dark robes obscuring his face.

“You have something for me Sploodge?”

Sploodge handed over the decapitated head. The Dungeon Lord rotated the head over and over in gnarled hands. After a long time he spoke.

“This human’s memories are of another time and place, somewhere it seems that we might all find sanctuary from these constant attacks. Take a group to where you first found him. As soon as you discover how he got here, we will all be going on a journey.”

“Wow, relocation” Sploodge thought. A respite from all the attacks from above and below, that would something. This thought spurred him on until they reached the spot where the human body still lay. He ordered all present to check every inch of the tunnel. After a few minutes someone shouted, “Come have look at this!”

It looked like a small patch of wall was moving but only noticeable if you didn’t look straight at it. Upon touching it’s surface the Goblin’s hand went straight through. Sploodge volunteered to go first. After a large hit of Purple Moss, that he exhaled slowly, as if it were his last, he stepped through.

A day passed and Sploodge finally returned, he ordered his group to rush back to the Dungeon Lord. In his presence once again Sploodge divulged what he had seen. He spoke of large towers made of brick, with small observation holes going all the way up and large groups of humans. Preparations were made and the invasion had begun.

Mickey wanted to get lean; he wanted to get lean really bad. Where had Seb disappeared to, it’d been days. Fuck it, Seb was he breadrin but he’d have to pick up off someone else. He was meeting two girls later and he couldn't turn up empty handed. Mickey then spotted a group hanging outside the Lightfoot estate. He swaggered over, trying to project an image of confidence.

“Yeah, yeah, safe. Any of you brears got any chung?”

The nearest member of the group walked over; expect it looked more like it was dragging itself over. Mickey couldn’t see clearly under its hood but he was sure this guy had more of a snout than a nose.

“We gotz something new if your willing to try?” The voice said, sounding like lyrics on a record being played backwards.

“Err, yeah, cool, cool. I’m on that” Mickey chimed.

The hooded figure handed over the small package, the potent smell sending Mickey into a haze.

“We call it Purple Moss, bluuuud.” The voice gurgled, struggling to keep an even pitch.

That night Mickey and his friends’ part took of the new substance. They found it stronger than anything they’d experienced before. Purple Moss was never meant for human consumption after all. Soon the entire estate was coming to Lightfoot tower to get a taste of the Purple Haze. Surveyed from the top flat of the large concrete tower, the Dungeon Lord watched the bustling commerce below. Yes, this place will do nicely. He even considered changing his name to Lord of Lightfoot.

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