Malebrignon
08-14-2006, 07:04 PM
"Four hundred seventy-five... four hundred seventy-six... four hundred seventy-seven..."
The old man lay on the ground counting out loud. Had anyone bothered to ask, he would have been happy to explain that he was counting the number of leaves on the tree above him that had not yet turned brown. He'd been laying there counting for... well, he wasn't sure how long. He'd been prone since he'd fallen from the Andersen's roof earlier that morning. The chimneysweep's job is very physically taxing and Braegor had long outlived his usefulness for his profession.
"Eh?" He startled at the approaching footsteps. Seamus Andersen stood over him.
"Get up, old man. Get off my property and stay off. I'll not ask for recompense on the damage to my roof. Just leave."
"Hmm? Oh, yes, your chimney. I'll have it done in a jiffy, Sam, no worries. Just restin' my back a bit before I hop back to work."
"No, Braeg. Get. Off. My. Land. NOW!" Farmer Andersen brandished his pitchfork menacingly.
"Sheesh! No need to get all bent, Sam. I'll leave as soon as my back's doin' bett..OOF!"
Braegor rolled over onto his stomach to protect it from another blow. The farmer gave him several sharp kicks in his unprotected abdomen. He attempted to rise, but he was pretty sure he'd broken his back this time. He'd not been able to feel either of his legs since he'd started counting leaves much earlier that afternoon.
"GET..." *kick* "UP!" *kick*
The second kick was followed by the distinctive sound of bones snapping. Farmer Andersen stepped back and thought briefly about what he'd done. Shaking his head sadly, he muttered "Don't go anywhere..." and walked towards the barn. He returned with a rickety wooden wheelbarrow that reeked of manure. Calloused hands reached for the wiry old man, scooped him from the ground, and dumped him into the conveyance.
************************************************** ************************************************** **********
"You're lucky I'm a nice guy, Braeg...."
"Oh, yes. Awful kind of ya to offer me a ride in your shitbucket after breakin' my back. MIGHTY friendly of ya, Sam."
The farmer gritted his teeth and continued to push the wheelbarrow towards the crossroads that the locals thought of as "town". He wasn't convinced he was the cause of the old man's inability to walk, but he wasn't about to leave the ragamuffin howling for help outside of his house, either.
"This reminds me of the time the Carley boy pushed me off the bridge...."
"You mean the time you drowned the Carley boy, don't you?" Andersen barely resisted the urge to rap him on the head with his walking stick.
"Lies! Slander and lies! I'd do no such thing. I loved that boy as though he were my own wi...errr... son!"
"Yes, Braegor. Everyone agreed you loved the boy, that's for sure, we just don't all agree on your reckonin' of what "love" means. Now shut up before I find a bumpier path for you."
Braegor paled at the thought and held his tongue. Every bump in the path sent new waves of agony shooting up the length of his spine. He still felt nothing from the waist down, but the upper half of his body was a veritable smorgasbord of throbbing aches and searing pain. Eventually it overwhelmed him and he passed into blissful unconsciousness.
************************************************** ******************
*tap-tap-tap-tap*
*tap-tap-tap-tap*
Braegor tapped the paddle-ball happily. He'd never forget the day that little Jess Bradford had given it to him. He still remembered the sweet face sayin' "I'm happy all da time, wif or wifout m'toys. Here, Mista Ash, mebbe dis'll make ya happy like me!"
"Hiya, bristlebottom!" He shouted at a random farmer entering the store without missing a beat on the paddle-ball. The man scowled, shrugged, and went inside wordlessly. Braegor had taken to yelling at everyone who passed in and out. It was his only source of companionship. All the "townies" had forsaken conversation with him shortly after Seamus Andersen had mysteriously died in his sleep only days after bringing him to town.
For four years now he'd sat out in front of Alverson's Goods in the same smelly wheelbarrow he'd never been moved from. Once a day old Alf would send the shopboy out to empty the bucket beneath the small holl in the bottom of his wagon. Braeg took great joy in trying to squeeze out a movement before Hrolf came back with the pail, but more often than not he'd eaten too little to produce more than a puddle. A cloud of flies swarmed about his filthiness constantly, which was good for him since they provided a majority of his sustenance. Outsiders who'd observed his wolfish grin as he caught and ate the flies would comment that he'd be better put out of his misery. Townsfolk always replied "Could be, could be." and let the matter drop. He knew the truth they wouldn't speak.
"I AM NOT A MONSTER! Call me what you will. Spit on me and curse my name. I didn't kill Sam! I couldn't even move at the time! I didn't hurt Josef Carley, either! I loved Josef!"
Gamon Alverson stepped out of his shop, knocked-out Braegor with an axe handle, dropped a jug of water in the cripple's lap, and wordlessly walked back into his store.
************************************************** **************************
"Wait, Josef!"
Braegor called to the boy from the rooftop of his shack. Winter would be here soon and he'd cleared all the flues but his own. He'd hoped to be done before Josef arrived, but the boy was early. He stared hungrily as the youth undressed for swimming.
"I ain't waitin' today. Besides, I invited friends, Ashy."
"Friends, eh? This could be more fun than usual..." The pleasant thought was ripped from his head by the giggling of young girls. A veritable gaggle of them were crossing the bridge over the creek that fed Braegor's pond. A few were accompanied by strapping lads from the village, but several seemed to have eyes for Josef already. The chimneysweep's face hardened into a scowl.
"Com'on, Ashy! Drop your brush and come swim while it's still warm. It'll be too cold soon!" Josef called to him.
Braegor continued to clean his chimney. He listened to the splashes and raucous laughter and grew more angry. Yes, youth can be precocious, but to openly flaunt these girls in front of him....
Finally the party calmed down. Sundown grew closer and most of the children had left. Braegor waited til only Josef was left to climb down from the roof. The boy was toweling himself dry when he noticed the older man approaching. He dropped his towel and positioned himself with his back to Braeg as he bent to pick it up slowly. Braeg knew the coy look that would be playing upon Josef's face. With his back still turned, he said:
"You'll just have to learn to share me, Braeg. I'm in too high demand to stick to jus..."
The boy crumpled to the ground. His head was bleeding profusely from where the rock had struck him. Acting quickly, Braegor tossed the body into the water. He ran to the bridge and dropped the rock he'd hit the boy with into the water trying to guess where someone who'd slipped off the bridge might land in the creek below. He floated Josef's body to that point and set it drifting downstream. Then he climbed back up on the bridge and began shouting.
"JOSEF!"
"JOSEF, NOOOO!!!"
And he jumped in the water, too. They'd be found together a long distance downriver. The grown man, who'd always been suspected of having a predilection for children, and his dead love.
************************************************** ******************************************
"Eh?"
Braegor slowly regained conciousness from the most recent blow to his head. He inhaled deeply before opening his eyes, taking in two full lungs of the noxious vapor that had descended upon the town in the night. He choked and gagged and spat up phlegm all over his filthiness. They'd heard this was coming. He'd have fled with the smart ones if he could've walked. Not like anyone would make an effort to save an old bugger like him.
"Oh, well.." he muttered. "Time to die."
He breathed in deeply several times until awareness was gone once again.
************************************************** *********************************************
"Oh, my! What a disgusting little creature we have here!"
The spirit hung over the as-yet unrisen Forsaken. It watched for the awareness. The Malebrignon had lost much of his power sustaining this spirit form for over a month. His former body was destroyed and the magic of this strange world seemed to wholly reject his mastery of necromancy. He'd tried taking an inanimate body, but couldn't find a "path" inside any of them. His attempts to claim the living were outright exhausting and disastrous. Each time he managed to claim a living host, he would ride inside of them for a few days until they were inevitably cut down by the endless stream of combatants wondering this world. Death didn't work here for some reason. At least, not usually. And his hosts would be reborn in a new body, cleansed of his essence, and he'd have to expend more and more energy trying to coalesce into his spirit form once again.
This time would be different. He'd hand-picked this one. It had wandered in from amongst the mindless and begun forming words. The Forsaken of Deathknell had taken it to their holding area and awaited a complete "awakening" from it. The dormant stage in which the undead remained made it susceptible to his magical pokings and proddings. A brief picking through of the creature's mind showed it to possess an compatible personality; even a similar name.
"So.... Braeg? Are you ready to become powerful beyond your dreams?"
"Yesss...."
"Are you willing to be my mask and share your husk with an ancient evil?"
"Yesss....."
"Then will you submit to bearing the burden of the Malebrignon for an eternity?"
Two voices simultaneously spoke the word: "Indeed."
The old man lay on the ground counting out loud. Had anyone bothered to ask, he would have been happy to explain that he was counting the number of leaves on the tree above him that had not yet turned brown. He'd been laying there counting for... well, he wasn't sure how long. He'd been prone since he'd fallen from the Andersen's roof earlier that morning. The chimneysweep's job is very physically taxing and Braegor had long outlived his usefulness for his profession.
"Eh?" He startled at the approaching footsteps. Seamus Andersen stood over him.
"Get up, old man. Get off my property and stay off. I'll not ask for recompense on the damage to my roof. Just leave."
"Hmm? Oh, yes, your chimney. I'll have it done in a jiffy, Sam, no worries. Just restin' my back a bit before I hop back to work."
"No, Braeg. Get. Off. My. Land. NOW!" Farmer Andersen brandished his pitchfork menacingly.
"Sheesh! No need to get all bent, Sam. I'll leave as soon as my back's doin' bett..OOF!"
Braegor rolled over onto his stomach to protect it from another blow. The farmer gave him several sharp kicks in his unprotected abdomen. He attempted to rise, but he was pretty sure he'd broken his back this time. He'd not been able to feel either of his legs since he'd started counting leaves much earlier that afternoon.
"GET..." *kick* "UP!" *kick*
The second kick was followed by the distinctive sound of bones snapping. Farmer Andersen stepped back and thought briefly about what he'd done. Shaking his head sadly, he muttered "Don't go anywhere..." and walked towards the barn. He returned with a rickety wooden wheelbarrow that reeked of manure. Calloused hands reached for the wiry old man, scooped him from the ground, and dumped him into the conveyance.
************************************************** ************************************************** **********
"You're lucky I'm a nice guy, Braeg...."
"Oh, yes. Awful kind of ya to offer me a ride in your shitbucket after breakin' my back. MIGHTY friendly of ya, Sam."
The farmer gritted his teeth and continued to push the wheelbarrow towards the crossroads that the locals thought of as "town". He wasn't convinced he was the cause of the old man's inability to walk, but he wasn't about to leave the ragamuffin howling for help outside of his house, either.
"This reminds me of the time the Carley boy pushed me off the bridge...."
"You mean the time you drowned the Carley boy, don't you?" Andersen barely resisted the urge to rap him on the head with his walking stick.
"Lies! Slander and lies! I'd do no such thing. I loved that boy as though he were my own wi...errr... son!"
"Yes, Braegor. Everyone agreed you loved the boy, that's for sure, we just don't all agree on your reckonin' of what "love" means. Now shut up before I find a bumpier path for you."
Braegor paled at the thought and held his tongue. Every bump in the path sent new waves of agony shooting up the length of his spine. He still felt nothing from the waist down, but the upper half of his body was a veritable smorgasbord of throbbing aches and searing pain. Eventually it overwhelmed him and he passed into blissful unconsciousness.
************************************************** ******************
*tap-tap-tap-tap*
*tap-tap-tap-tap*
Braegor tapped the paddle-ball happily. He'd never forget the day that little Jess Bradford had given it to him. He still remembered the sweet face sayin' "I'm happy all da time, wif or wifout m'toys. Here, Mista Ash, mebbe dis'll make ya happy like me!"
"Hiya, bristlebottom!" He shouted at a random farmer entering the store without missing a beat on the paddle-ball. The man scowled, shrugged, and went inside wordlessly. Braegor had taken to yelling at everyone who passed in and out. It was his only source of companionship. All the "townies" had forsaken conversation with him shortly after Seamus Andersen had mysteriously died in his sleep only days after bringing him to town.
For four years now he'd sat out in front of Alverson's Goods in the same smelly wheelbarrow he'd never been moved from. Once a day old Alf would send the shopboy out to empty the bucket beneath the small holl in the bottom of his wagon. Braeg took great joy in trying to squeeze out a movement before Hrolf came back with the pail, but more often than not he'd eaten too little to produce more than a puddle. A cloud of flies swarmed about his filthiness constantly, which was good for him since they provided a majority of his sustenance. Outsiders who'd observed his wolfish grin as he caught and ate the flies would comment that he'd be better put out of his misery. Townsfolk always replied "Could be, could be." and let the matter drop. He knew the truth they wouldn't speak.
"I AM NOT A MONSTER! Call me what you will. Spit on me and curse my name. I didn't kill Sam! I couldn't even move at the time! I didn't hurt Josef Carley, either! I loved Josef!"
Gamon Alverson stepped out of his shop, knocked-out Braegor with an axe handle, dropped a jug of water in the cripple's lap, and wordlessly walked back into his store.
************************************************** **************************
"Wait, Josef!"
Braegor called to the boy from the rooftop of his shack. Winter would be here soon and he'd cleared all the flues but his own. He'd hoped to be done before Josef arrived, but the boy was early. He stared hungrily as the youth undressed for swimming.
"I ain't waitin' today. Besides, I invited friends, Ashy."
"Friends, eh? This could be more fun than usual..." The pleasant thought was ripped from his head by the giggling of young girls. A veritable gaggle of them were crossing the bridge over the creek that fed Braegor's pond. A few were accompanied by strapping lads from the village, but several seemed to have eyes for Josef already. The chimneysweep's face hardened into a scowl.
"Com'on, Ashy! Drop your brush and come swim while it's still warm. It'll be too cold soon!" Josef called to him.
Braegor continued to clean his chimney. He listened to the splashes and raucous laughter and grew more angry. Yes, youth can be precocious, but to openly flaunt these girls in front of him....
Finally the party calmed down. Sundown grew closer and most of the children had left. Braegor waited til only Josef was left to climb down from the roof. The boy was toweling himself dry when he noticed the older man approaching. He dropped his towel and positioned himself with his back to Braeg as he bent to pick it up slowly. Braeg knew the coy look that would be playing upon Josef's face. With his back still turned, he said:
"You'll just have to learn to share me, Braeg. I'm in too high demand to stick to jus..."
The boy crumpled to the ground. His head was bleeding profusely from where the rock had struck him. Acting quickly, Braegor tossed the body into the water. He ran to the bridge and dropped the rock he'd hit the boy with into the water trying to guess where someone who'd slipped off the bridge might land in the creek below. He floated Josef's body to that point and set it drifting downstream. Then he climbed back up on the bridge and began shouting.
"JOSEF!"
"JOSEF, NOOOO!!!"
And he jumped in the water, too. They'd be found together a long distance downriver. The grown man, who'd always been suspected of having a predilection for children, and his dead love.
************************************************** ******************************************
"Eh?"
Braegor slowly regained conciousness from the most recent blow to his head. He inhaled deeply before opening his eyes, taking in two full lungs of the noxious vapor that had descended upon the town in the night. He choked and gagged and spat up phlegm all over his filthiness. They'd heard this was coming. He'd have fled with the smart ones if he could've walked. Not like anyone would make an effort to save an old bugger like him.
"Oh, well.." he muttered. "Time to die."
He breathed in deeply several times until awareness was gone once again.
************************************************** *********************************************
"Oh, my! What a disgusting little creature we have here!"
The spirit hung over the as-yet unrisen Forsaken. It watched for the awareness. The Malebrignon had lost much of his power sustaining this spirit form for over a month. His former body was destroyed and the magic of this strange world seemed to wholly reject his mastery of necromancy. He'd tried taking an inanimate body, but couldn't find a "path" inside any of them. His attempts to claim the living were outright exhausting and disastrous. Each time he managed to claim a living host, he would ride inside of them for a few days until they were inevitably cut down by the endless stream of combatants wondering this world. Death didn't work here for some reason. At least, not usually. And his hosts would be reborn in a new body, cleansed of his essence, and he'd have to expend more and more energy trying to coalesce into his spirit form once again.
This time would be different. He'd hand-picked this one. It had wandered in from amongst the mindless and begun forming words. The Forsaken of Deathknell had taken it to their holding area and awaited a complete "awakening" from it. The dormant stage in which the undead remained made it susceptible to his magical pokings and proddings. A brief picking through of the creature's mind showed it to possess an compatible personality; even a similar name.
"So.... Braeg? Are you ready to become powerful beyond your dreams?"
"Yesss...."
"Are you willing to be my mask and share your husk with an ancient evil?"
"Yesss....."
"Then will you submit to bearing the burden of the Malebrignon for an eternity?"
Two voices simultaneously spoke the word: "Indeed."