#final end

Pain. It flooded through every muscle in his body -- save for those of his left leg, which seemed to be going numb. Standing had become a chore, and the man wasn’t so sure he could remain on his feet for long. Nevertheless, Final End stood proudly in the midst of the three women and one man who had tried to take him down. Highlanders, all -- dressed in leathers and bearing rough  fist weapons. Weapons that had hurt. Bruises marked his brown skin, and one with a pair of patas had actually slashed him along the flank -- a shallow cut, but one that smarted nonetheless.

Each heaving breath and exhale may as well have blown steam from his heated body. Sweat poured off of him, fresh and warm. Unfortunately he had been fighting for a while and the stink of sweat, dirt and blood hung about him. The dusty, heavy air of the ruins within which he stood didn’t help matters at all. The Hellsguard squinted up at the high stone ceiling and received a light peppering of dust in his eyes for his trouble. With a grunt, he lifted his hands to try and sooth them...only to see near two dozen more fighters stampeding toward him down the large hall.

End knew he was in no position to fight all of them. Hells, he didn’t think he could fight more than twenty men and women on his own in top condition. Still, he raised his fists and slid into the usual stance...even though his leg could barely support it. The lot of them were twenty yalms away and closing fast. There was no time to formulate any sort of strategy that would work against them, no way he could run with the damn shaky leg -- not that he’d let those bastards and bitches see his back.

Fifteen yalms. He could see the weapons clearly...he had perhaps about fifteen ticks before they were on him. It was going to be a painful death, and he knew it. It didn’t matter...he was already in pain and determined to take as many of them down as he could. Ten yalms...five…

The first line of them suddenly fell flat on their faces, followed by the second, and the third. The whole group of them ended up on the floor two yalms away from End in the space of three ticks. At first the Hellsguard thought someone had tripped and triggered a chain reaction -- the very thought brought a barking, booming laugh from his throat. All that and they tripped? Hah!

It was then that he felt it -- a pressure upon his shoulders, then onto his crown. Instinctively he sought to stand strong and resist it, but without warning his knees gave out and hit the ground hard. His guts heaved -- but he could not throw up. The Hellsguard found himself salivating excessively...outright drooling on himself. Where once ran warm sweat on his skin, cold beads of it quivered upon gooseflesh as the pressure upon him intensified fourfold. A foot was driven into his back, and sent him onto all fours -- no. There was no foot there. It had been the pressure again.

End had just accepted his death without fear, but this new sensation terrified him. He hated it -- doubly so when he felt wet warmth run down the insides of his thighs. Fear and humiliation. Fantastic.

“Ah. I didn’t expect you to piss yourself,” A low voice rumbled from behind him. The slight lilt of amusement at the end set a seething, humiliated rage alight within the Hellsguard’s gut. “Clench your damn bowels, then. I’m going to have to carry you back, maybe, and I can’t do that if you soil yourself too.”

End had not the strength to retort -- hells, he barely had enough to breathe. Heavy footsteps sounded at his flank. He had not the capacity to turn his head and see the owner of the voice, but he could raise his head just enough to see the struggling band of fighters before him. One of them, a highlander woman seemed to be doing her utmost to stand, and had managed to get to her knees -- an effort the voice next to him took notice of.

“Oh? This would make you the strongest of the lot, then. The leader, I wonder?”

There was no answer from her -- just a defiant stare as she slowly but surely stood. It didn’t look like she could move, but she looked proud enough of her ability to stand to give a smug look toward the man outside of End’s view. End himself could not help the envy that bittered him. “B...bitch…”

In a moment, all that was left of her crooked grin were her teeth, scattered like pearls among her peers as the rest of her body was reduced to naught but ash. Purple arcs danced in the space and filled the ruined halls with strobing, flashing light. The peal of thunder that exploded from the spot shook End to the very bone, and elicited a wave of whimpers among the downed...one of which was his own.

As suddenly as the pressure had come upon him it was gone -- End scrambled to his feet, piss-stained gaskins be damned. His left leg was still barely able to hold him, but it would do. It would have to do. The first thing he did when he got up was take a look at the owner of the voice.

He was a Hellsguard, very much like End, except quite a bit older, and red skinned instead of brown. His muscles were taut and corded, and possessed of a bulk that would have looked obscene on any other race but a Roegadyn. A black tantra wrapped his form, and his hair seemed woven of a deep purple. His eyes were not focused on End, but rather the scrum of Highlander fighters who had also been released of the crushing pressure. Unlike End, they considered the obliteration of their comrade, and made to turn and flee.

“Cowards!”

End had roared behind them without thinking. It drew a look of intrigue from the other Hellsguard, who turned back to eye the fleeing throng. “It’s disappointing,” He murmured -- and then, he was gone.

The rearmost fleeing Highlander burst as ash with a crack of thunder, while the woman in front pelted upward toward the ceiling with arms flailing. A blinding purple bolt struck the middle of the scrum -- End was unsure of how many of them it had killed, but he could see that four of them went careening into the air as well. Five distinct and ground-rocking blasts of thunder saw them all shredded to dust that rained down on the rest. Dust from the ceiling joined it -- and the group scattered. Some even returned in End’s direction.

The young Hellsguard had no intention of letting any of them escape. He drew his fist back, ready to punch the pair of men who came his way...and was met with a faceful of ash for his trouble. His hair stood on end from the lightning that had swept through them to do it, and the thunder almost burst his eardrums. By the time he had raised his other hand to wipe it all off, there was nothing left of them -- only the old Hellsguard stood in the spot where the lightning had struck. Ash surrounded him, and still floated down to the earth from those who had been cast upward. Brilliant purple eyes turned End’s way.

“What is your name?” Asked the elder.

End was glad that he’d already pissed himself earlier -- it saved him the trouble of having to go through it right then. “Final End,” He offered boldly, “Are you going to kill me too?”

The elder Hellsguard snorted and shook his head. “That would be a waste of time. My name is Deathly Levin. Come with me. You belong to my master now.”

End’s protests were interrupted before they began -- the thought that this man had a master, someone more powerful than him...it was flummoxing beyond measure. “...and if I don’t?”

The expression on Deathly Levin’s face remained unchanged -- but there was something in the intensity of his eyes that seized End by the spine. This was not a man to cross, or refuse. And so, End nodded, “...I see. Can I at least have a bath and change my pants before I meet your master? I don’t want to stink of piss when I do.”

Levin smiled, then turned to walk away. “We’ll stop somewhere then. Welcome to change, Final End. You’ll not be sorry.”

Cool air swept through the lip of rock at the south of the Ala Mhigan quarter. The small, dusty plateau afforded a spectacular view of Ala Mhigo's southern mountain wall, as well as the Sea of Clouds beyond. Rocky plateaus rose above the drifting clouds, and provided a fresh crispness that met wonderfully with the smell of salt from the Lochs at the north.