Scorn - Originally written 23/03/2009

Summoning the strength within me, I focus upon the maelstrom. Winds nearly cast me off the precipice I stand upon, and I glance down at the chaos in the ocean before me. I hear a horn blow somewhere in the distance, and frenzied shouts of desperate men. I turn about, and see a man with terror in his eyes point frantically at the sea. A massive tentacle darts out of the murky depths, coils around in the air and whistles towards me. I slow things down to myself, which also manages to slow events around me. The leviathan's lethal attack slows to a crawl, and I sidestep, turning towards the beast. I absorb the fear from the men around me, take it within myself, giving me the adrenalin to reach forward and touch the briny, alien arm. As I do so, I release all the energy within myself, all the anguish, all the suffering, all the fury. The beast shrieks in horror at possibly it's first emotions since time began, and sinks once more below the waves. Time speeds up, and I become aware of a few nervous, insane laughs, and one man even claps me on the shoulder. I start to recharge myself, notice their mistrust of me, as anyone mistrusts those who have hidden strength. I walk the opposite way to the others, along the cliff.


Why do I do this? Why do I immerse myself within myself, cast out from the rest of society? I realise many hours have past as I reach the summit on the moor, and my home comes out of the mist to greet me. The local populace have been here recently to, with gifts of bread, cheese, ale, clothes. Simple things from simple people, given almost as a sacrifice to their lesser of two evils - I have yet to cause nightmares amongst the children, or carry off fishermen to the cold dark. In time they will forget the leviathan, and ask me to move on, their gratitude forgotten. I pour a flagon of the cold, salty, suprisingly sweet beer, and think about my next move. I am woken by a loud knock at the door, and the sunlight breaking through the loose boards of the roof onto my dazed face. I collect myself mentally, grasp my staff for physical support, and cast open the door with a tempestuous look on my face. The anger gives way to casual suspicion, and I stare at my visitor. He is dressed in the emperor's purple, and is clutching a scroll with sweaty, well manicured fingers. I raise an eyebrow at him inquistively, and he thrusts the scroll to my face, showing me Emperor Benedict's seal. His message delivered, he turns and almost jogs back to his horse, then gallops away, in the direction of the faraway capital - Benon. I sit back in my chair, and light up the coals, suddenly very chilled despite the sunshine. I break the seal and read:
"News has travelled fast of your heroic victory. You are summoned to
His Excellence's residence to partake of a feast in your honour."

I wisp my fingers slowly over my pipe, and relax as a spark erupts, and draw back heavily on the dark tobacco. It has been many years since I had last been to a city, last within the bounds of normality. I remember the last time I had been in the Banthenon, the emperor's palace. I was lying in the arms of his daughter, the beautiful, yet humble Sophitia. She was similar in me to many respects, yet while I cast society aside and studied the dark arts, she read the ways of the men of science, shutting her mind to God and his nemesis. We each found in the other fierce, dark intelligence, and a mutual respect of the other's learning. This soon developed first into strong friendship, and finally love. The emperor discovered my affair with his daughter, and tortured me for four weeks in his pit of Hell, the Oubliette. Eventually cast out, disfigured and scarred both mentally and physically, I wandered the outskirt towns, living off small petty enchantments and Tavern illusions. Until finally word reached me of a serious threat, a long-forgotten sea demon attacking the minds of the good citizens of Duskmoor. So now I must decide whether to return to that shiny, clean facade of a city, or risk the emperor's vengeance by rejecting his summons. Knowing my answer already, I pack provisions for a week long ride, and set off to Benon.

After many weary days of travelling, I finally reach a signpost informing me that I am entering Benedict's Territory. I stable my horse at a nearby inn, and enter for much needed refreshment. I motion to the innkeeper for a room and a lunch, and take in my surroundings. There are a few patrons quietly drinking mead, while another four are sitting playing some seedy game of chance. There are two fairly well-dressed people, who also look to be travellers to the capital, talking of current events. I hear them mention that my sweet Sophitia is to be at my feast, and a smile breaks out on my face. The chance to see the one I truly love once more. I barely hear them continue to speak as my thoughts move away into fantasy, until a single sentence brings me crashing back to reality. She is to be wed in three days, to a foriegn Prince by the name of Lethe. I raise my hand to my head, and the tavern fades from view. There is a mighty rumbling, flowing out from me to the rest of the world, and the tavern's very foundations begin to shake. I am dimly aware of frightened cursing, and the other people's fear start to be absorbed by my raw power. I fall to my knees with pleasure and strength, and flames erupt around me. Screams of fear turn to screams of pain and I walk away, my eyes red with retribution, towards this feast of the damned.

The palace gates lie open, so I walk into the palace grounds uninterrupted. A few uneasy guards, stand aside for my entrance. One whispers to his comrade, and the other nods, smiling. I feed from them, their eyes rolling upward in their sockets as their very essence powers me. I stride forward and am announced by an unseen voice. The emperor sits at the head of a mighty table, surrounded by his king's courtiers. At a seperate table sits my love, Sophitia and the dark prince Lethe, fabled for his love of drink, loose women and duels by sword. I casually sit opposite them all, and the emperor greets me warmly, trying to make a sign of his powerful ally to Lethe. I smile at them all in turn as we eat, the red meat furthering my other appetite. The meal finished, the emperor claps his hands and a cage is brought in. In it lies a waif-like dark skinned woman lies naked save for a iron collar and chain around her neck. The emperor announces his prisoner of war and starts making comments such as negroes are less sexual than his subjects. Roars of laughter from the sycophantic courtiers and Lethe answer him, and the cage is wheeled out again. Wine is brought out, and I watch them all drink heavily. My sweet Sophitia sits in the corner, forgotten by all except myself and the letching hands of Lethe all over her slender body. I feel my rage start to rise, and a candle near me flutters. For a moment, the conversation stops, and the emperor announces his boredom. Stating that he lacks any excitement in his life, I tell him of a fashion in the fabled city of Acheron for banquets. The king and his courtiers lie rapt in my attention as I tell them that they all pretend to be negroes, and dance around like madmen. The emperor announces for me to help them prepare. So I call for chains and collars to be brought, and chain them all together by the neck. They all start to laugh at each other, and dance around like apes. I call them to silence, and say that they are all far too pale skinned. I have a dark, foul liquid brought to me and pour it all over the bigoted emperor, his twelve fat courtiers, and the dark Lethe last. I reach over to Sophitia and take her by the hand. I bid her watch as they all start to dance around the hall. I close my eyes and feel her, feel her hatred of them start to boil and simmer over. I absorb it all, and stare at the dancing fools. I whisper to her the magic word for the liquid "Tar", and she smiles and visualises to herself the tar erupting into flame, and their painful deaths. She nods silently and I whisper "Burn" and they start to whoop in agony, the only other sound, that of their burning flesh interrupted by my raising laugh of victory, as I leave the burning regime and head back to the simplicity of Duskmoor with my love beside me.