#shyce

doodling doodle world doodles 66: shyce line

@momos-trolls

//Shyce is an Aethrum Demon, a spectral demon who makes demon contracts in exchange for semi possessing the host in hopes of turning that host into his new body—kind of a Naruto vs Kiyubi type thing. Except unlike the Kiyubi, Shyce actually eats souls (often right from living people) in order to increase his power which strengthens both him and his current contract holder.

//Now, usually he only supplies magic to and has influence over people who agree to his contracts, but Bonely is a rare case of “inheritance” where someone actually defeats/kills the original contractor but wasn’t strong enough to banish the demon, and ended up becoming the new contract holder.

//Shyce is actually the reason Bonely’s magic is the way it is and why he is a skele in their canon.

//In a sci-fi verse tho, he’s basically a psychic parasite that induces nightmares, hallucinations, and paranoia (all of which Bonely has had to adjust to to keep it under wraps) to get “fed” what he wants, and if he’s fed what he wants, will grow into a heinous monster that nobody wants to deal with.

//Basically he’s a monster and an A-hole That Bonely really hates having around.

Shyce is going to laugh at this from Bonely’s shadow. “Can’t touch me kid~” he chides, his voice a gravely, oily echo of the indigo troll. “Not without hurtin’ yer old man.”

With a smug, toothy grin, the silhouetted demon shifted his form as he spoke, turning into a circle with 2 figures silhouetted back to back. The first and lighter half was clearly Bonely, with the darker half clearly shice. “ Just like with those fate-stone things up top, yeh can’t take me out without takin’ out the other half. Why d’yeh think his cleric of a brother ain’t banished me yet?”

The first sensation Bonely experienced was the burn of magic buzzing across his stony flesh. He grimaced as his claws dug into the jagged stone beneath him, raking against it as whatever curse or paralysis spell took its course. The last time he felt a sizzling like this, he’d had to dive into a Veiling Fount to get his penance rings. It stung and burned him from the outside in, but he’d managed. But this - this didn’t even have the courtesy of pretense. Instead, it felt like a full-body magical road rash with a hint of jumping magic.

Letting out a soft growl, the former pawnbroker pushed himself up onto his knees, glancing down at his hands. Grey-indigo stone met his eyes, with angular lines and patterns that seemed to have been seared into it with a blow torch. For a moment, his befuddled mind fails to comprehend what exactly he’s looking at.

“Garlim?” he murmured dumbly, squinting at his arm as the last ripples of blue magic faded along his stone. That was right, wasn’t it? Garlim were made of stone, with fealty lines and everything. But didn’t they have wings? He blinked and turned to look over his shoulders, the gears in his mind slowly clicking into place. No wings, which meant he wasn’t a Garlim.

“Which means that I’m... troll.”

With this moment of minor recognition, the stout troll looked around, squinting in confusion at his surroundings. He didn’t see any other trolls. Just endless chasms of black jagged stone surrounded him, with sickly pale green crystals jutting from their surfaces. There was no wind or any familiar smells of grass, rain, stone, or ale either. Instead the air was still and stale with scents of death, dark magic, and misery. The touch of darkness and evil reeked from the very ground beneath him, as if it were stained by the souls of demons themselves. His face wrinkled as the stench brought back all his faculties like bad smelling salts.

‘It smells like the dead lands,‘ he thought and pushed himself to his feet. ‘But these can’t be the dead lands... where am I?’

As he pondered the question, his eyes caught sight of a particularly vivid vein crystal, the design of which reminded him of... something. Something big, dark, bulky... A memory of some enormous creature with horns and armor reminiscent of a pill bug, flashed through his mind. Then another image, this time with a voice, a plan, and a bridge.

Slowly as his mind began to work, his recollection of arriving at heartstone with Salem began to drift back to him. They’d been there, saw the war between troll and gummgumm, and had even deliberated with Vendel and Deya the trollhunter in how they could help.

“That’s right...” he murmured, stroking his chin. “We were there teh help with the bridge. But if that was at the bridge, then where the heck is this place ‘n’ how’d I even get here?”

 A familiar presence pull at his chest, a shadow, a whisper, a sensation that made his stomach clench.

‘That’s right,’ he thought, his lips curling into a snarl. ‘The new moon. The night a’ the bridge fell on the new moon...’

A low, rumbling growl escaped the indigo troll as he turned, his shadow standing uncharacteristically still against the stone wall before him.

“Where did you bring us, Shyce?” He growled, claws curling as he  marched up to the stone wall where his shadow stood. “Where’s Sal and Deya?”

The shadow didn’t answer. It didn’t even move despite the furious sway of it’s owners gate. Bonely snarled with fury and lunged toward the shadow. It jerked back as it was grabbed and the troll’s claws dug deep into the dark stone the shadow had become. It’s chiseled black claws grasped at Bonely’s arm while the rest of shadow troll’s body quickly formed. Its obsidian flesh shone as it reflected the green crystal light, which contrasted hideously with glowing magenta runes that scored it’s body, mirroring Bonely’s own marks.

“Where are we, Shyce?” Bonely demanded, his claws pressing the obsidian troll against the wall. “How did we get here?”

The obsidian troll didn’t answer, instead it only grimaced and snarled at Bonely, who in turn, increased the pressure on its windpipe. Once again, the troll made his inquiry, saying it slow and punctuating each word with it’s own split second of furious silence.

“What—did—you—do—Shyce?”

The obsidian writhed in the trolls grip, wincing before finally opening a glowing magenta eye. “T̛͜҉hèy..̧̕͠. br̢o͡ķe̷ t͟h͝e c̴͟i͠͡rcl̢͝҉e̢͘...” Shyce hissed, his voice layered with the vocal distortions of his native demon speech.

Bonely froze, his fury mingled with complete disbelief at what he was hearing. His hand began to tremble, his claws dug slightly into Shyce’s flesh as he spoke. “You mean teh tell me... that on the one night I asked yeh teh keep yer hands in yer pockets, the night the Trollhunter Deya was teh imprison the GummGumms, you went out ‘n’ screwed us over anyway!?”

With a roar of frustration and fury the dull indigo troll raked the other up along the wall before twisting and hurling him across the cavern. Shyce landed hard but bounced and rolled back onto his feet before letting out a fiendish snarl of his own.

“A̛n̵ḑ̸̵ ẁ̷͞h̵̷a̛͘͠t ͢͝͏a̶b̶̧͘ơ̢͜ut ́you?̢̀” he demanded, bearing his tusks. “A̡̛͜l̷̶̴l t͜ḩ̢is̸̕ mag̢̨͜í͝͞c̡̨͏, ̵̕͢al͏ļ̕͞ t́͞͞h́i͡s ̵̛͠po͘wer fl̀́o͟͝͝w҉̴̕i̸͘͘n’ ҉through͘̕ ͠y̵̢͞er͝ ̵͘v̧e̕͢͠ins,̧҉̵ ̀͠͏‘͝͡n̶’ ̴͜what d̡͘͘o ̀͠y̢͡e̸h ͏d̡̛̀o͝͏̢ ẃ͝it͢͜h it̸̡̡? ̢͢Ņ̶̨O͞Ţ̕͘H̵̕I̵N’!” The obsidian troll let out a bellow, his claws rending the air around him. “W͜͠e go̕t ͜the ̀p͝ow̴̧͟é̡r̸̶̢ t̶͡͡eh ͠͏r̡̀ea͜p ͘s̶͠o͞uls,҉͜͝ ̢͜҉cǫ̶͡m҉͏̸ma̵n͞d̷̷͞ a̶rmies̕͡, ͡҉b̡e͢ḉ͞o̶m͟e d̴͝a҉r͘k ̶̧͝goḑ̸s,͝ ̵̀͞ą͜nd͡ ̷͘y͏͘ę̶́h ̷̢was̨͝te͞͏ yer̡ ̵̧́t̵̛̀ime ̢̕͡i̕͢͞n t́͘͡h̶̕͜at̸̀͏ p̶a̧͠w̨n̸̷͢sho̧͞p!”

Bonely bellowed and the two charged, grappling hand to hand, horn to horn like a pair of trollian Tasmanian devils. Claws ripped and tore at each other, leaving long, shallow slashes along their arms and shoulders. The two continued to grapple, Bonely refusing to allow any magic to escape for Shyce to use. The obsidian troll yanked his double sideways, trying to pull the other off balance, but Bonely skidded side ways and stayed firm. But with a quick sidestep and a clever maneuver, Shyce knocked back Bonely’s foot, causing him to lose his footing and fall. Quickly, the demon grabbed his counterpart in a head lock, holding him with one arm around his neck with the other hand gripping his horns.

“Y͏̷̢e̢r̵ ̨͝ a҉̴  ̡͜ẁ͘͞a͝s̡̕͠t̶̸̀e̕,̸ Bo̶͘ne̸͜ly!͡” He roared, holding fast to the squirming troll. “A͞ w̕a̵s͡͞t̕e̢͢ ̛̛͢ a’̡͢ ṕ͠o͜͜wer̴̢, wa̛̕͢s̵͏t̵͝҉e ͢͡a͘͝’ po̶ten̴̶͞t͏i̵͞al,̧̛ A ̷̢͢W̕͝ASŢ̛E͏͏ A’̀ ̡̧T͜͏H͡E̴͠ T͜IM̶̨͡E EVE̕͡RYÒ̴̧NE’͘͢͡S͏̛͡ ̵̷҉P̶̸Ừ͞T҉ IŅ̕͝TEH̕͟ YE̴̸͠H! ͜͜͡A͞ll ̀͟͜ye̷̷̢h̵ ́do̸̶͠ ̀͡͡is̶̢ ͘͘͞di͢͞şapp̧oint!͏ ̸̷͘Yeh ̴di͞d̶ ̡͘͠i̷t̡̕͟ ͟teh y̢͞er̨̀͟ ̶̕f̀͝͝ą̛t̢h̢e͞͏͟r,̕ yer̵̛ ̢́b̴̶r̢̡͞ot҉h͘҉̵ęr,̷ a̢͠͝nd ̕͞no͟w ͢͟ye̵̶r҉̷̴ s҉on̨s!̶́̕ ͟͝Y̕er ̛͜͠a̵͜way͟ al̡͡l ̴̀t̶he ͟͞ti͏mę̷ ̛‘n̵̷͞’̷ ̀͝͝no͘͟͝w ̕yeh ҉ain’t̕͡ ̷͝ev̛er̢͝ ͘c̵̛o̢͘m̸̴̕i̶͝n̡͠’ back!̧͘͢”

Insecurity upon insecurity. That was how Shyce always worked, and as he talked, the words from a book Bonely had read came to mind. These were things he said his enemies would say. How the assassins would seek tot ake out his strengths and weaknesses at the same time. Something in the pawnbroker stilled as he wrestled to catch a breath, something that hadn’t been there before. These words were those of an enemy, and he knew just what to do with enemies.

“Waste a’ potential huh?” Bonely huffed, using his claws to pull at Shyce’s arm so he could speak. “Well, at least I ain’t wastin’ the headspace I got between my ears!”

With that, he tensed his neck muscles, forced a bit of his magic into his enemy’s body, and swung his fist down between his dark double’s legs. Shyce let out a shrill yelp of pain and surprise before dropping like a stone, his iron grip on Bonely broken with a crackling wheeze.

“Forgot I could do that, didn’t yeh?” the pawnbroker asked, rubbing his neck as he rose. “Forgot yer body was part a’ my magic, didn’t yeh?”

Unable to move, Shyce turned his head to glower at Bonely but the other was already on top of him. The dull grey-indigo troll leaned forward as he dug his claws into the back of Shyce’s head as if he were going to crush it with his own hands.

“Yeh didn’t remember who’s king around here,” he whispered, tightening his grip. “Ye didn’t remember that I’m the king a’ this castle, ‘n’ now, I’m takin’ it back.”

There was a gasp and a struggle from the obsidian troll as glowing magenta energy began to drain upwards into the claws of his captor. “Y͘͘-y̡̕eh ͡c͝a̵n̨͟’̶͜͜t ̡̛͘d̵o ͠͏̧th̢҉a̶͞͏t!” he shrieked, craning his neck to look at Bonely. “Th͏̷͡at's̨̨͜ n̵̷͞ot͜͢ ̷pa͞r̶͜͞t͟ ҉á͟’ t̷h̨͝e ̨d̶ęa͘l͟!”

The indigo troll grinned and gave a low, sinister chuckle. “Ohohohoho... Actually, it ain’t. See, neither of us said anythin’ about me not bein’ able teh end the deal, ‘n’ since it’s my power you’ve been sappin’, I’m allowed to rescind whatever permissions I granted. ‘N’ guess what buddy?” He leaned in close, savoring his demon’s horror. “I’m rescindin’ that deal we made. Every ounce a magic ‘n’ will be mine ‘n’ so will every moment in a’ the day ‘n’ night. Poisonous or not, black ‘n’ corrupted or not, that magic is mine, I’m takin’ it back.”

A rasping gaps escaped the obsidian troll as cracks began to appear along his body while the magenta runes dimmed.

“Remember this Shyce,” the pawnbroker hissed as he drained away the demon’s magenta glow. “I’m the king here, ‘n’ I an’t ever gonna let yeh sabotage my kingdom again.”

The black-bone skeleton turned from his scratching and cursing when he heard the voice of Bonely’s most recent acquaintance as they stepped into view. Glowing magenta eyesockets fixed themselves on the short skeleton as a low hiss escaped his jaws.

“Well, yeh’d know all about that, wouldn’t yeh, squirt?” he growled, pacing within the circle of glowing white runes Bonely had put down the that evening. “Palin’ off with the big boys when you yerself are just an itty bitty-bones in a world like this.”

There’s a long suffering sigh from Bonely as his shadow jitters with what looks like a snicker.

“If yer includin’ complainin’, makin’ passes at passerby’s, ‘n’ givin’ dirty commentary on just about everything that happens, then yeah, he’s doin’ wimpy demon things.”

‘Not like you’ll let me do anything else.’