Chapter 1: Dirty Deeds and Dead Stiffs.
Creeps oath: To wander the realm and stop any dismay of malicious or extraordinary doing.
“ History is a strange oddity, we see it as plainly as some solid monolithic structure yet it seems to bends and churns through the ages as the hearts and minds of the people do the same, nothing can be seen or read as truly truth, it is just how it is so, but then again, in three thousand years will anyone dare to remember who we are, what we’ve done, who we’ve worshiped, maybe and maybe not, but I would have no foresight on such happenings. “ ~Master Mosly Tarbas, Grand Librarian of Canterlote.
Before the birth of the sister gods and after the reign of titans stood a time known as the Age of Cinder, where the Equine-like were free to rule and control on their own accord and of their own volition, Though Nowadays seen as a time best forgotten, We must remember this our strangest and darkest of Knowing’s.
The Rain blasted down on the Graveyard and turned its once sombre earth into a seeping muddy sludge, lantern-posts that once illuminated the tracks for dawn-bound sorrowers now violently swing back and forth as the burley winds rip through the hollow grounds and deep into the surrounding dark pine forests.
“Hurry up boys, lest we be caught with black hoofs!” Roared the voice of a heavy-set pony chap with a rather large under-bite.
The two young stallions panted along with shovels and leather bags slung on their hides ready to get to work. One of two went by the name of Cornell Dorsh of whisper-whiny and the other Crowley Fouleer of Wetsburrow.
Cornell stood long and tall with a coat of light brown ochre and eyes as purple as Deathbell, Born to a scullery maid and a remedy salesman, the tall boy grew up in the red streets as a tosher and dock hand.
Crowley on the other hoof was just below average size with a dark ash coat accompanied by two bright shimmering emerald eyes, Born to a mortician and barmaid he made a living on the banks of Wetsburrow as a salvage diver and field-hand. Both boys were around seventeen years of birth with an obvious need for coin, Fardes Grell, the large bloke leading the adolescence, made it clear that he was only to happy to help, but only for a job that is considered… Un-savoury.
“ok, heres the plot!, hmm let’s see” Fardes explained as he ruffled through his brown listings book ,“A Mister Delfeeni Molgeet, buried six moons ago due to payment complications with a highwayman, alright, should be simple, just shovel in, dirt out, got it”.
Both boys gave a collective nod.
“good, tell me if ya’ hit the coffin, oh, and watch out, nights as dreadful as these tend to turn our holes into dams”
Fardes finished telling the apprentices on the finer points of grave robbing as he snuck off towards the night-watchmen’s wooden shack for a snatch and grab job of sorts.
The two boys looked to each other and pulled out there shovels, both ready to finish quick and get there compensation.
“so, ere’ ya from” Cornell said trying to make small talk as they tore into the wet dirt.
“Fishing town south of Stropel, how about you” replied Crowley as he increased gusto.
“Whisper-whiny, the city of red, West o’ Stropel, I take it ya heard of it if your livin’ round these parts?” Cornell chatted as hints of pride weaved their way into his belted speech which seemed to make Crowley’s ear perk up and the sound of the legendary location.
“What’s it like, My Dad always spoke fondly of his trips to the red city, is it true the what they say about the water?” babbled the Ash coloured Pony.
“true as true mah friend, water’s red, trees is red, grass ‘n’ dirt alike all share the same shade o’ crimson, even the moss, mold and vines also ave’ the blooded look to em’, that’s The Bleedin’ City for ya, true as Stories l‘mention”.
The two chatted as they shoveled out globs of mud, each slam into the wet dirt seemed to grip the spade more and more, like a hungry foal trying to slurp up a hearty gouache.
“How’d you get workin’ fa Grell anyhow?” Cornell asked.
Crowley retold the events of his employment to such a strange under-taking “hmm, well ,I was making a herring deliver to an old salt in Randal when I got stopped by this large Gentleman outside the local Inn, He asked if I were In the need for a higher compensating job of sorts, I asked him what his angle was and he asked if I would meet him near the Apothecary after my run, against better judgement I did, he asked me If I’d be willing to help him and his friend, I be it you, with a night of skulduggery.
“heh,basically, the bloke just asked me If I wanted ta be involved in digging up stiffs for their trinkets, said he’d cut me in on a piece o’ that pie” jested Cornell as he wiped the loose strands of mane from his brow.
“So tell me friend, regal me with the stories of Whisper-whinny?” Crowley joked trying to take his mind off the morbidity of his current work.
“well whinny’s just a name for the poorer district, the city as a collective s’called somethin’ fancy ‘Shel re crim’ I think?, meanin’ Place o’ blood, other than that’s it’s just a big Stone City with a reputable gimmick.
“Father always said it was famous for being the place where the first Titan was slain?, that’s why its red…because Of all his blood”
“If you’r in on believe such things, I was never one to be believin’ in farcical tales m’self”.
“I take it you don’t believe in the Tinder Knights then?” Crowley said trying not to make it seem like heretic notions.
“Doesn’t matter If I think things like that or them are real or not, but why should I devote my worshippin’ to some folks who I ain't even meet?, just seems…stupefyin’?”.
They both stopped nattering and returned to their work, now most definitely was not the time to talk about beliefs and values.
In the dark distance the sound of hoofs kicking against wet ground could be heard, the two stopped dead hoping that it wasn't any authority of legal influence, thankfully it seemed by the large shape of the figure that it was Fardes returning from his scout and snatch job, carrying a large bag full of cutlery, collectibles, bits and babbles.
“You’s done yet “ spoke the large brutish corpse vendor “I could have sold this whole sack o’ goods and still come back to see you two digging like infirmed Cripples”.
“The rain keeps putting mud and water back in sir, it’s like trying to dig up a pond” Remarked Crowley as he used most of his strength to lift up the swirling soil from the rectangular pit.
“Ill give ya’ a simple hint, when ya shove it in, twist it then lift” guttered the boss as he pulled a finely made smoke-Pipe from the large bag of ‘reprimanded’ items and placed it in his smirking uneven mouth.
“Is it always this miserable when workin’?” remarked Cornel as he slowed down gumption.
“it seems like more of a bother than an obstacle*Clunk!*” Crowley was saying until he was cut off as his shovel banged against the lacquered wood of a muddy coffin.
The trio each gave a collective look to each other as they quick as a whip jumped into the wet abyss and pulled at the sides trying to alleviate the wooden box.
“Use tha’ shovels to wedge the back, lift the friggen thing!” Fardes boomed as he used his tremendous strength to lift most of the weight.
The younger grave-robbers gave a heavy heave as all three lifted the coffin onto the rubbery green grass and out of the horrid pit.
“Al’right Mista’ Molgeet, let’s see what ya’ carryin’ on ya person?” Panted Fardes, Slinging himself onto the hallowed ground and hoisting up the other two.
They all gathered round the foreigner’s resting vessel, ready to claim the fruits of their labor. Grell let out an exhale and sucked in a deep breath, wrapping his hooves around the box and lifting the heavy lid off, with a crusty grind the lid cracked open… along with the potent aroma stuffed within.
“Bleeaah!” came the collective sounds of the two apprentices as the waves of horrid stench flooded there unprepared nostrils like laps of water….filthy rotten week old water.
“Dear forgotten!, that’s ripe!” Barked Crowley as he buried his muzzle under his hooves, away from the ‘dead and gone’ lying florally encrusted in the obviously faulty and badly enclosed coffin.
“hah, nothin’ like your first wiff!” jested Fardes as he search the fungus ridden corpse as it now supported a new host of dirt-dwelling organisms large and small.
“hmm, cufflings, pocket watch, glasses, good good, hmmm damn…handkerchief’s too inhabited to be salvaged…goes the same with the stiff, aint no gent gunna want to eat rotten moldy meat”.
“Um, what ya’ mean by eat?” Cornell questioned with a slightly jarred look on his face.
Fardes paused, unsure how to answer the question “Well, in this business you’ll get clients who asked for certain…tastes, tastes that our line o’ work occasionally offers if fresh enough, these products of value can be sold to people who enjoy a bit o’ … discretional dining” the heavy built criminal couldn’t find the right words to describe stealing corpses and selling them to blood-craving cannibals.
“so all ta’gether what can ya’ get for tha’ niknacks?” asked Cornell as he placed the shovels back next to the leather-bags, trying hard to change the subject matter.
“twenty-six bits for what’s on him, and ,hope-willing, I should be able to get sixty-five separate for what I took from the Watchman codger’s shack”.
“what that’s ….um…hmm” Cornell stumbled.
“ninety-one Bits all together” Crowley retorted picking up Cornell’s verbal and mathematical slack.
“yeah , so you should split it…three ways, I think” Cornell said trying again to act smart.
“that’s thirty for each of us” Crowley backed up as he continued to finish Cornell’s thinking.
Fardes gave an ‘Oh really?’ type of gaze and he let out a humorous ‘Hurrumph’ as he came up with the right words to put them in their place.
“Tell ya’ what, seeing as I’m such a giving type o’ Gentle-colt, I’ll give ya’ each thirteen bits for what’s on Molgeet, the rest ‘I’ personally and rightfully earned, so Ill here no complainin’ from the two of ya’, hell I was going to only give ya’ six bits each, think of it as…double?”, Fardes finished speaking by picking back up the Watchman’s pipe and huffing on it like a know-it-all Magistrate.
The two gave a moderate sulk as they slung the heavy bags over them and began trekking back out of the dredged cemetery.
“shouldn’t we chuck him back in tha’ pit?” Cornell Asked.
“why?, our job’s only to dig em’ up, not bury em again” Fardes replied as he wandered in front of them.
“just seems a bit…un-sightly to just leave em’ there?”
“by all means go kick him back in if ya’ want, you’ve got the shovel”
Cornell slowed down pace till he finally stop and turned around, preparing to in his own way pay respect to the dead.
“I’ll atleast close his li…” Cornell stopped speaking.
“hmm, yeah?” Grell mumbled as he continued to huff his pipe.
“Um…Fardes…Did you kick the gentle-colt back into the pit somehow?” asked Cornell with a jittery sort of tone.
“No, why?” replied the boss as he turned around and looked at what was now an enigma.
Crowley did the same and soon all three were staring at the coffin…With no-one inside.
“Knights Protect!” bellowed there brave boss as he dropped his pipe and jolted towards the forest, dropping his tools and large sack.
Like mimics, the two did the same and raced into the forest, not knowing the what or why. The heavy rain seemed to pick up even more and more like it was trying to hit the trio like gunpowder from a sky-built blunderbuss. They ran not knowing where to go, all the while being hit by the groping pine branches they hindered there pace.
Crowley couldn't run anymore, he slowed down to catch his breath and take respite as his lungs and limbs burnt and ached, He could only get three gulps of air in before he heard a large cracking sound that seemed to shut off every sense the boy had, he froze.
*Craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!*
Like time itself stopped, Crowley jumped out the way a large pine maybe thirty-nine feet tall fell from the dark expanse of the darkness. He barely missed it as it nicked the very tip of his foreleg, it landed with a Large thud then shattered into a chipery mess, termites.
Crowley shot up fear-ridden while his heart roared in his chest, not from the tree, but because he now stood deserted with only the dark machinations he could conjure in his head, he was alone in the pitch of night, no moon vale to illuminate the forest.
“FARDES!, FARDES GRELL!” he yelled backing away from the rotted overgrown root, he didn’t seem to know the name of the other young grave-robber who accompanied him. Scared and alone…he ran into the nothing.
The pouring rain had become most violent as it spat hard, tearing into the ground like billions of tiny bullets. The wind that started as a gentle breeze had angered and twisted into a torturous gale that ripped down anything that could not hold a proper footing, and finally the night which held in its midst the scariest and most dangerous of all creatures…the unknown.
On the ground lay an unconscious young pony covered in mud with a large bruise on his forehead.
Crowley rubbed his head after he lifted his muzzle out of the wet dirt, for a fraction of a second he believed that he had been dreaming, this proved otherwise when the strong storm sent a bitter wind up his spine and between his legs…he had no Idea what had happened, he remembered running, and running, and running until…until he ran right into a thick low-hanging branch.
He lifted the rest of his person up and stood back on four hooves feeling slightly disoriented, he looked around for a path, the storm had rendered his vision’s field to only the nose in front his face. He squinted his eyes trying hard to make out anything he could, nothing…only the sound of the storm, rain and his breathing, he was about to step forward when another Crack tore into Crowley’s ear-drums, this crack of a more skyward direction was accompanied by the bright blaze of lightening that made the whole forest seem like a bright daytime stroll.
With it the young stallion could make out hoof-prints trailing ahead of him, by that he knew it was either those of Fardes or his other accomplice, Crowley headed in the direction of the trail, making sure not to be diverted by even an inch, the dark stopped him from seeing much if any but his intuition told him where the trail went, we must have walked for a good seven minutes before he smacked into something.
“Ouff!, hey” he bloated, Crowley had bumped into Fardes’s rump.
“Thanks and forgiveness, I found you!” cheered the naive colt.
The sky rumbled as another mighty roar bellowed from the thunder along with the harsh crack of the white lightening. Crowley shot back in horror as he, through the millisecond of light, saw that the thing before him was not Fardes Grell…It was Mister Delfeeni Molgeet.
It seemed that his body had not taken well to the decomposition, his skin looked like raggedy grey moss covered in legions and bulbous fungi spores, his mouth seemed to be vile and angry with a harsh snarl to its appearance , this gent…this ‘Creature’ looked like a walking body of pestilence.
It stood there motionless, but somehow inquisitive, jeering its head as it peered at Crowley, the thing stared deep into the boy’s face, for a moment Crowley felt a slight pity for this rotting abomination, that soon changed when it snapped its jaw back into place and gnarled up its loose face into that of a snarling beast.
It dragged itself towards Crowley, as inquisitive as a hungry bear, the hulking monstrosity edged further and further towards him, he could hear the faint gargles as it growled with a throat that was so damaged that the sound vicious hisses through its teeth its teeth, the young stallion had to think quick.
Crowley was about the turn and run when the creature pounced at him with strange pulse of speed, It wrapped his hooves around his shoulders and jeered its horrid mug forwards ready to nip at his face like a ravenous dog. Thinking fast the boy rear his head back and sent it forward, hitting hard against the monster’s brow.
It stumbled back is disorientation, this gave Crowley a moment to think…’RUN!’. Molgeet gave a grimacing looks as the mark felt by the head-butting seemed to have left a harsh impact.
Hoping not to get caught a second time, Crowley ran powerfully to an opening in the trees, getting away from the walking corpse.
What lay before him was a small stream running to what he hoped was the town the cemetery belonged to, as he began to follow along the bank he noticed something hiding between the large reads,he could hear it breathing, without taking a change he picked up a large peddle and through it at the black mass hoping to shoe it off, it hit the thing hard and made it let of a large cry of anguish.
“Ahhhh! you arse wiper!”.
“Fardes!” Crowley said with delight as he ran to his boss.
“you got to help me, that chap we dug up is roaming around in there, he tried to bite me!” Crowley begged.
They heard a large noise coming from just a few feet up the stream.
“HELP!, anyone please help!” said a scared jittered voice…It was Cornell.
Before Crowley could call out Fardes wrapped his hoof around his mouth and slammed him into the reads with him, Crowley tried to pull away but the veteran grave-robber grip was far too strong, Crowley was about to bite his hooves when he saw the stern cold look on Grell’s face.
The Storm had ease up and a small patch of silver moonlight had broken through the clouds, shinning down on the lost Cornell as he moved along the bank…it also shone on another pony- running crazily from the forest.
Cornell only had a moment to turn and see the Hulking corpse slammed hard into him like a mad beast, digging him into the foot deep water and pinning him down.
Crowley kept trying to pull out of Fardes iron grip, he couldn't, all he could do was watch as this person he barely met was fighting for his life.
The creature rammed it fracture jaw down on Cornell’s arm, biting hard, thankfully Cornell pushed the creature of, but leaving a rather nasty wound in its wake.
“Get Away from me!” he panted as he griped his searing arm.
“BLAAAEEEH” Screeched the creature as it pounced again at him, this time Cornell turned and kicked it hard in the chest sending it crashing into the banks.
“Help! Anyone! Help! me please!” Cornell crowed again, trying not to go into shock.
He began to stagger down the stream closer to us, bringing the trailing Corpse with him,
‘Please not any closer, stop, stop, don’t lead it here’ thought Crowley as he tried to stay as low as possible.
Cornell made it as close to them as eight feet before the Undead Molgeet rushed him a second time, tripping him into the water and biting at his legs, this next carnivorous attack caused Cornell the lost of motion in his left thigh.
“ARRRGGGHHH!!” Rawed the injured boy, Crowley Tried so hard to pull away to at least try and help him, to at-least do something instead of lying there watching, but it was t no use, Fardes’s extreme strength could pin an ox.
The pony from whisper-whiny tried so hard to stand back up, no use, his leg was losing blood, he kept hobbling along, dragging himself through the stream like a wounded timberwolf, Crowley could see his drops of blood shimmering in the moonlight as it trickled down into the water, washing away into the darkness.
Time felt like it was in a stupor, so slow, so …quit. The rotting corpse slowly wandered towards Cornell, some animals know when their prey isn’t a threat anymore. The imobolised young grave-robber tried so hard to drag himself away, panting and begging, you could hear him mumbling babble to himself as he just kept pulling himself along, ‘I don’t want to it to end like this’ was one of them. Molgeet stood over him like some sadistic torturer watching their prey try so hard to fight fore there lives.
The horrible abomination gnarled his disgusting mouth in a sort of hissing behaviour, the silence was unbearable, so still, so quit. It flipped Cornell over and with a action so quick, snapped his neck.
Cornell’s face seemed to be so very lifeless. Crowley just stared, neither a blink nor a breath came from him, Fardes on the other hoof was shaking uncontrollably, he had never witnessed something so ...evil . The monster sat down beside the boy, lifting on of his arms, life s child preparing to eat a nice tasty carrot.
They lay watching the sight for so long, waiting and prayering for thing to leave, but he just wouldn’t, snarling, gurgling and trying to gasp. Crowley just seemed to stare at the sight while Fardes’s face seemed heavily sickened as he tried to swallow the burning outbursts of anger that arouse in his throat.
Finally they the creature was done, his horrible bloody night was coming to an end, he went still and started to close his eyes, the forest storm had quelled once more, letting the moon shine once more with the star accompanying.
The rain started to pick up again - washing Cornell’s blood along with his spirit down long dark stream. The foul Defeeni feast was over, the pale moonlight cast a luminous blanket across the dread-ridden land. Crowley froze still and took a deep breath – something inside him just seemed to have switched off, that something was either fear or common-sense, he ripped forth from Fardes’s limp grip and charged full pelt towards what would appear to be certain death, he didn’t care, he didn’t think anything at all.
With even noticing, Molgeet was hit hard in the face by Crowley’s left hook, sending him swinging backwards into the mud, the angered boy gave no time for a counter as he started stomping relentlessly at the ghoul, hopefully incapacitating it in some way.
“Die you horrid beast” fumed Crowley, he wouldn't stop until this thing was nothing more.
His hooves sent powerful waves through the creature’s rotted body leaving large marks and sqauashed fungi, he stomped and stomped and… *crack*, ‘oh cripe!’, through his heavy anger he kicked alittle too hard, his right leg was now lodged in Defeeni Molgeet’s chest.
“heagghrrr” gurgled the beaten abomination, it wasn’t too happy about having an interruption during his late-night meal. The young boy tried to pull himself out of the creature but it was no use, it’s dry dirty ribcage seemed like a closed row of teeth biting his leg.
“Get off me!” roared Crowley, kicking around at the dusty bones encasing his leg.
“Reeeehhrr!” screeched Molgeet, driving upwards and sending Crowley into the deeper part of the stream and flooding his mouth and nostrils.
The monster kept lashing towards Crowley, only being stopped by his stiff leg being impaled in its person, though Crowley could barely fight for much longer as his perception began to fade, he was going to drown, he looked gazed up through the clear freezing water, he could only see the dim grey of the moon as it sheltered behind the clouds, the throbbing pain in his head began to overweight the uncomfortable pain in his lungs…he was going the end, at least he wouldn’t be conscious for what was going to happen next, he let go of his breathe and gazed up for the last time, the moon peaked out from the dark plumes for at least a few seconds, it looked so bright and beautiful, like a giant glorious stone…so pretty, time to go.
Crowley Fouleer felt himself slipping, the corners of his eyes darkened even without him closing them and his limbs lost any strength they had, he knew the ghoul was going to strike now…he didn’t care, the moons brilliant glow soon dimed, he looked at it, if he was going to die he might as well follow the light. It almost disappeared the last white speck seemed to fade, even as the flurry of green fire flew in front of it…'wait what!'.
Crowley was ripped from the watery coffin and thrown on the ground, his chest was being beaten so hard, he wasn’t sure what was happening, was he dead?, had the Tinder knights awakened him?, had be crossed into the hearth?, sadly no, the pickled and fermented breath flooded his lungs reminding him of which world he was still kicking around in.
“Bleeeeh!” gurgle Crowley as half the stream came up out of his mouth along with everything else.
“Are ya’ all-right boy!” Fardas asked, trying to dislodge Crowley’s leg from the burning husk.
After regaining enough sense he began to speak.
“wa…what happened..What, what…wha” the delusional pony spoke.
“It’s fine boy, mister up there took care of the creature, just settle ya’self”.
Crowley soon noticed the large soot coloured gent standing next to Fardes, He looked somewhat of a spectacle, covered in pouches, pockets and bandoleers as-well as bits'n'bobbled all of which were draped under the weight of a large silver chain with religious relics attached to the links, he seemed somewhat tall but you couldn’t tell being that he was almost completely covered by the huge black cloak that shrouded three quarters of him, it was clear what this intimidating fellow was, A Creep.
“Um, hello mister” croaked Crowley as he rubbed his now horribly stinging eyes.
“Charmed, Name’s Gareth Creep, and you?” he said in a deep but very formal voice.
The boy eyed him out as he did the same, this gent seemed trustworthy, if not it wouldn’t matter, no one would be taking chances with a Creep.
“Uh..Cr..Crelsby. Crelsby no-lier….Sir”
“I'm sure it it" The look on his face instantly knew he was lying but none the less he went along, "So, who’s responsible for Delfeeni Molgeet?, hmm” he addressed.
At first neither of the two grave-robbers knew what he meant, or they just couldn't think of anything good enough to say.
“Um, we were camping when, um, the thing there jumped out of……”.
“If you give me the truth I might not arrest an old grave-robber such as yourself” he politely threatened with not even a slight raise in tone, his amber eye’s seemed to light up like candles..
Crowley sputtered a cough and began to speak, “ we were digging him up when he kind of… got up, I tried running but it caught up and attacked…..” Crowley stopped as he looked a few feet away and the crumbled Cornell laying in the moonlight. “it killed him sir…I tried to fight it…I couldn’t”.
Fardes looked away and wandered over to Cornell’s corpse.
The Creep gave a pear at Crowley then looked over towards Cornell, he opened one of his pouches and took out a red skinned book none too different to Grell’s brown one.
“Number 63-Delfeeni Molgeet, forty three of age is, birthed in the Sessem lands, slave trader and ex-general of the demecci family, 3 months ago he was poisoned with Feglet's illness by rivals in the Bezzley gang, traveled here to purchase either a cure or immortality from the necromancers in Trike, seems Mister Molgeet got the latter, scheduled to be buried here six nights ago” the Creep closed the book and placed it back.
“Immortality?, that’s what you call it! He looks like a rotting animal” outbursted Fardes .
“Indeed, the catch with such uncontrolled magic is that your body comes back but your mind seems to dissipate to a more primal form, primitive type of spell-casting, seems to be giving me trouble from here to Northgate”.
“Why are you here?” asked Crowley .
“Acquired here-say that were burying him here in Trent, I’ve been asked to deal with him, before he does anything…drastic, I see I’m abit late”.
Fardes shot him a foul look.
The Creep ruffled his barding and walked over to the crispy corpse.
“We’ll It seems I’ll be on my way, I’ll take what’s left of Delfeeni and you can take what’s left of…”.
The Creep was thrown back by Fardes’s powerful punch, he wasn't too happy with the Gent’s choice of words.
The large brute that what Fares went in for a second hook, The large pony’s arm got as far as a few inches before his entire body was wrapped in a huge vale of Amber light, it seemed to have completely frozen Grell in some sort of magical encasing, stopping him in his tracks, the tether of the spell lead directly to the Creep’s irises, which were less candle-lit and more village-fire, like two burning disks.
“hmm,I’m not going to have any trouble with you now am I?” the powerful pony said as he jerked Fardas up and down in some sort of telekinetic approval.
Crowley was in awe at what lay in front of him.
“Good, now I’ll leave now and you’ll never get to see me again, seems fair, so I’ll place you down, but if you try that again I won’t be so pleasant”.
The large Grave robber hit the ground with a thud.
“We’ll I’d best be off, good day to you sir” he rubbed his head then slung the charred ghoul onto his back, he started wandering back down the stream.
“Hold on!” Crowley yelled, he had never seen such a display of power from someone of his type.
“Yes?” the Creep suspiciously said slowly halting.
“How did you do that, you’re no unicorn?”.
He gave a smirk.
“Most folks don’t understand that magic’s in the head, not just the horn, just takes alittle training to learn how to use it” Gareth explained.
“How’d you learn it then?” Crowley barked inquisitively.
The strange chap’s face went stern for a moment, glaring at Crowley’s face with an inquisitive nature.
“How old are you boy?”.
“seventeen years from birth…sir”.
“hmm, difficult, very difficult…” the Creep began to mumble.
He seemed deep in thought.
“…hmm, meet me tomorrow at the fermented squash, sixth of morning…sharp”.
Crowley felt confused at the request?.
“Um, why might I ask?”.
“Because you … have potential” he joked while walking off, it felt awkward to see him chuckle, his left brow seemed to have a small strip of iron nailed across it hiding a large scare.
Crowley confusion was cut off by Fardas’s orders to go fetch the leather bags, hopefully to at least wrap up Cornell out of respect.
After another trek through the woodlands he found himself back at the graveyard, though it seemed different now, Crowley walk over the bags full of tools and stolen goods, the pipe still lay on the ground with a wispy trail of smoke pluming from the wooden end. The boy approached the bags, they seemed untouched even if they were abit saturated.
The hallowed ground began to shake in the eerie silence, riddling through the gravestones and raddling the nearby Empty shack shingles.
“heeelpp” came a horrible voice through Crowley’s ears, he shot frozen, he wouldn’t dare run again.
“arrrrhhh” came another one from his right he turned quickly but still saw nothing.
“heeeeelllp, “reeeeghh”, “meeeehhh” came the horrible moans from all-around him, the sounds seemed muffled and old.
“Where are you?!” Crowley demanded trying to hold-back wailing.
“Heeeelp ueeees”, “geeeeehhhh”, “maaaaathrrrrr” the horrible requests seemed to grow louder, he jerked his head all around like a mad beast, trying to identified the source, nothing beside tombs stones litter the field.
“ARHHHH”, they grew louder and more violent, the light moans now heavy wales that ripped into young Grave robber’s ears, he couldn’t take anymore, turning the run he slid on the wet grass and fell forward, hitting the ground hard.
“ERRRHEEE” screeched a voice bellow him so close you could hear it reverberate through the ground, Crowley listened, the sound of banging a grinding bellow the soil…more ghouls.
He shot up of the ground and tried to run, without even looking he thrusted himself away, smacking hard into something that felt awfully similar
“You can her them can’t you” Dreadfully asked Gareth.
Crowley looked up, his heart was thumping madely, his composure was that of a frightened deer.
“…there’s so many of those horrid creatures, we can't stop them all” he replied holding in what sense he had felt.
“No boy, there no ghouls, there Wisps, souls of the undead, forever begging to journey on even though they’re mind and body has passed , like a missing page from a book that has already been read” he addressed, sounding like some crazed churchman.
“How can I hear there torment?” Crowley demanded looking around at the plot filed with scream ponies of ages past.
“I'm allowing you to hear what I hear, its not a pretty thing is it?” The Creep asked, a stone-like expression stood strong on his face.
“No…no its not, why are you telling me this” the boy said.
“Your friend back there, the dead one, I want you to burn his body…that’s the only way to keep his soul fully at rest, Burying them merely encases it, still alive, still begging to pass, never being whole in the after-end” the Adorned Mystic finished speaking and returned to gazing across as Crowley did at the screaming earth, there horrible wailing seemed to melt together as a morbid hum.
“why do you want to meet at the local inn, are we under lawful confinement?” snapped Crowley with a unsure gaze.
“No, and only you will come, I fear your employment with the large chap is but at an end, come meet tomorrow and I will make you a ... proposition”.
Crowley somehow knew what he meant, he wasn't going to pussyfoot around it, something in him seemed to switch off again.
“If It’s what I assume it is than tell me here…I could not imagine a more appropriate location.
The Creep seemed both admirable and wary at the boy’s request, he didn’t know what to make of it, eventually he settled with his first thought.
“What is your name boy” he demanded.
“Crowley Fouleer…sir”.
.”And where were you born” he repeated in the same official tone, standing tall in his cloak like a large black mountain, a most intimidating bloke on any account.
“Wetsburrow, east of her...” He was cut off.
“Crowley Fouleer of Wetsburrow, Do you on this the seventeen year of your life here-by pledge yourself to the dark arts and the way of the Creepsman".
The idea finally hit the boy, was he going to say yes to his pony he just met not half an hour ago, his friend (of-sorts) was dead, his boss who offered him a job and who had saved his life would be betrayed…as he stood next to the corpse of his sort-off friend, it would seem stupid to say yes to such a strange and dangerous offering…But Crowley had one response to battle these justified thoughts.
‘Work is Work’.
Crowley Finally gave his decision, be it eagerness or stupidity.
“Yes”.
“And do you swear to wander the realm and stop any dismay of malicious or extraordinary doing”. Echoed Gareth the Creep's voice, his eye's where lighting up the same as before.
the earth began to rumble even harder and more frequent.
“Yes”
“then I here-by name you Crowley Creep as a protector of the realm and under ruling powers at be I allow you use and training of the Dark sorcery under my guidance, do you understand these terms?”.
“yes” ... Gareth's neck snapped loudly as the young apprentice finished his pledge, his battle-worn body went limp but still stood (some-what hovering), the large gown draped over his entire being, wrapping itself like a curtain, The sound of an arising fire could be heard from within.
The Creep Lifted his cloak, a large flurry of green smoke blasted from the tattered black fabric, his body seemed to emanate a strange aura as it suspended its lifeless self in mid-air. Crowley felt the strange breeze burning his skin; Gareth’s eye roared with a destructive fire, the image was somewhat horrifying.
The rumbling ground was now something of an earthquake, The Creep’s body now seemed Translucent through the green fire…he was not here, not in body, the fire struggled as a strange force brought it to a center singularity within the cloak (where Gareth's body should have been), a green ball of …. Something peculiar.
“What’s going on! I don’t under…”.
The ball shot out with an extreme speed and pierced Crowley’s fore-head like a bullet, its green aura exploded as it contacted with his brow, knocking him into the dirt, leaving a large burning scar running from his cheek to his scalp.
A strange voice in his head seemed to whisper to him as he lay once again unconscious.
‘Now you will know true strangeness’.
Author's Note
The second chapter should come soon, I'm just working on scenarios, I'd like to think of this story as sort of a videogame, strange adventures, spectacle bosses, new friends,enemies and locations. hopefully it will grow less morbid but still have the dark feel to it. I would appreciate any criticism Ideas that comes to your head throughout this story as I very much enjoy the responses.
the story was written by me but the idea came from a Mix of things, Gilneas from World of Warcraft, Van helzing and dark souls.
