OP
Cevrik777
Sex Demon
- Joined
- Jan 16, 2011
- Messages
- 274
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Re: Amarant: Unknown Path
Results…
I must say, this is probably the weirdest gift I have ever given anyone. It's a lengthy one, but I hope you all enjoy it.
As for the fight: it’s a rare occurrence, but I also did a few rolls to determine some outcomes and additional events; I think it turned out pretty damn good though. Have a wonderful time NOT pleasuring thyself sexually - for once - but instead, pleasuring thyself with copious amounts of food and spending time with those you love!
I’ll see you guys next year, or perhaps even earlier... best of wishes:
- Cev
P.S. I added a new piece of information under “Weapons”, so you guys can always have a view of what exactly is in the revolver’s chambers in between posts. I figure having excessive detail is better than assumption… so let me know what you guys think. The explanation is, of course, under “Explanations”.
Also, because I just threw it together int he last fifteen minutes:
You are crouched behind a bookshelf at the moment, a horde of pale ghouls taking your ally in the cruelest of fashions on the other side. She was crying out not too long ago, but now, has gone silent, whether dead or passed out… you do not know. You can still see her legs bucking upwards with each gyration from the mass of flesh, but they hang limp, no effort behind them. You count around two dozen heads, their exact number hard to determine as they shuffle about. It seems an impossible task with their numbers, even with the powerful weaponry you wield you are still limited to the thirteen shots you carry; after those are gone the odds change drastically.
Beatrice seemed so stubborn when she left you. Now look what her headstrong ways have gotten her into.
“Dammit…” you curse under your breath, wanting to pound your fist into the wood.
Your forehead rests against the bookshelf as you continue to watch the scene with one eye, red locks entering your vision. If only she had agreed to stay together then none of this would have happened. Shock and sadness mix with anger, and for a second you contemplate leaving.
She was so sure of herself… and now look at her. Even if I do save her, won’t she just be a liability? I could just leave her and forsake everything she promised… or risk my life for hers. Still, what then is any amount of gold to someone who died saving their… contract?
”So, I ask: will you assist me in this endeavor?” were her exact words and ”I’ll help”, yours. It seems like months ago that the conversation took place but you still remember it perfectly.
I have helped: more than some and far more than most! you tell yourself
This is the truth, or so you’d like to believe, but you still can’t look away from the sight. You can now see the ghoul that is taking her, the grey thing jerking back and forth, violently, the sounds of sex falling upon your ears. You continue to look, the choice still not clear in your mind.
It quickens its pace. Slaps of flesh ring out.
You wonder just how easy it would be to enter the city: whether she was exaggerating or if her words were fact.
It stops. Another takes its place.
The benefits and the dangers of each path weigh heavy in your mind; doubts, uncertainties, and regrets sitting upon the scales.
You take a deep, ragged breath and lower your eyes, finding yourself a bit flustered now.
Whether it was the scene before you, the reward that she that she had promised to pay, her grant of access to the city, or perhaps just your own inability to simply walk away and leave her to this… no one but you knows: Your reasons are your own.
You decide to help her.
~
Once you decide to help her, you look back up as you try and figure out how to deal with so many opponents. It seems hopeless at first, a monumental task that can’t possibly be achieved. As you continue to look however, you find everything becoming a bit… clearer all of a sudden, both visually and mentally. Pieces of the scene appear more striking, some fading away to reveal other details; it is almost as if you are now displaced from the scenario at hand and given an in-depth look at the pieces that comprise it:
Your breathing slows down, adopting a steady and silent pace. You remain crouched behind the cover, observing the ghouls… no, the targets, huddled together in the corner. You count twenty-five of them, two more currently occupied with a woman who seems to be passed out, her chest rising and falling, faintly and slowly. Usually, such a number would seem overwhelming, but a well of confidence comes from somewhere within you. You watch their movements: how they walk, how they carry themselves and how fast they are. Most of the targets seem be between five and six feet tall, only three of them outliers: two taller and one shorter. Eight of them are wounded in the legs, shin and knee injuries which cause them to drag the afflicted limb. Four others are disabled in their arms, the extremities hanging limply at their sides as they shuffle about. Mouths hang agape, ink-like saliva dripping from the corners of their mouths, leaving black trails down their chin. Six of them are very heavy-set, their cheeks and torsos hanging thick with fat, all of them a part of those that had leg injuries.
You look around the room now and start to become acutely aware of where the table, the bookshelves, the glasses, utensils, and chairs on the floor lay, their positions and locations constantly present in your mind. A new detail is revealed as well: a series of metal sconces, their color the same as the stone, line the room at neck level; there are twelve of them each one laden with a series of rusted metal points. The bookshelves are empty, including the cabinets. Most of the table and chairs are centralized in the middle of the room and the table cloth seems to cover most of the debris.
Certain items you haven’t thought about in a while also come to mind: The waterskin that holds the goblin alcohol, the green potion, the vial of holy water that is now empty, the wraith’s cloak, and the rifle.
These elements shift in your mind, the items in your bag melding with the environment and enemy. Eyes dart around as the plan comes together and you think of certain details you had noted earlier.
There… and then I set it.
No, that first… and then I can take of that.
Luckily they won’t see me, until…
That won’t work, but this…
And then I can use my revolver…
Thoughts dance through your mind. Strategies, tactics, elements in the environment, and the items you hold all shifting around, connecting and then disconnecting as you piece together the solution to this puzzle.
You had a plan.
Grabbing your revolver, you snap open your pouch and exchange the spent rounds. You then holster it, grabbing the rifle from your back and pulling the bolt back a bit to check the state of the round: Still loaded. That done, you now take out the waterskin, the empty vial, and unwrap the black cloak from your shoulders. You uncork the skin and hold your composure as the strong vapors of the grain alcohol waft into your nostrils. You fill the vial up three quarters of the way and then stuff the rag inside, turning the vial over and again to test it. Putting the items, along with the burning rod you had out, back into your bag and set the vial into your pouch as you make your way back to the door.
You had almost considered putting the green, “dangerous” potion you had to use, but you have a feeling it won’t work like the holy water did, your gut telling you it’s more of a poison.
You shuffle to the exit and then slowly close the doors shut, confident the ghouls won’t hear it now if they had not before. The hinges bend and creak as you push but you stay committed. Once closed, you search the doors for any way of securing them, but the handles seem to be simple pieces of iron, hammered into the wooden slab and then bent downwards. You will not be able to secure it. You turn and look and sure enough, your foes still meander about, entirely oblivious to your presence.
Now comes the tricky part…
Sticking close to the wall, you make your way back to the center of the room, this time making your way over to the shelf that contains Beatrice’s lantern. You keep watch on the mob, the horde still drawn to the corner, sating their sexual appetite apparently all that motivates them. You weave about, footfalls avoiding the pieces of wood and corpses that scatter the floor, every once in a while shooting a furtive glance towards the pale congregation, watching for any signs that your cover is blown.
So far so good…
Finally, your gloved hands grasp the metal box and you lift it up, reaching underneath for the true prize; taking hold of the cylinder attached to the bottom of the box, you give it a few twists, freeing the oil container from the rest of the lantern, a moderately sized flame burning on top. Unfortunately, it seems this is as far as you can prepare unnoticed.
It was a low screech that caught your attention, a phlegm-filled bellow that was soon echoed by others. You acted in haste now.
With a clatter, you let the bronze box fall to the ground, and set the lit cylinder back down on the bookcase as you went for the closest half of the table. With as powerful a kick you can muster, you thrust your foot out and push against the split piece of furniture, sending the piece of lumber skirting to lie next to its adjoining side. The table cloth now bunched up between the two sections, you throw a few pieces of broken chair into the mix as fast as you can before ripping the waterskin from your bag. Ripping the cork out with your teeth, you turn it over, dumping its contents on the pile. Then you wait, watching the ghouls who are now interested in you slowly make their way closer.
Five... ten. It seems quite a few of them have taken interest in you, a new potential victim for their unholy pleasures.
Fifteen… twenty… and five more. All but the two who are now taking Beatrice come for you now.
Alright… you tell yourself, before giving muttering a few words of confidence.
You wait, seeing all of them in their gruesome presence, their faces now turned to you. The same vacant eyes look at you through a milky sheen, the white orbs seemingly devoid of any detail. Black lines drip from some of their mouths, the maws opening and closing in anticipation. The most disturbing feature of all, however, were the loins of each one now plainly visible. You do not shudder as you look upon them though; even if their fleeting flaccidness and disturbing features are an unsettling sight, you stand firm, ready to face them.
They come together, their forms shoulder to shoulder as they proceed towards you, anxious to satiate their lust once more. This… is exactly what you had hoped for.
First, you unsling the rifle from your back and line up the sights near the heads where they seemed to clump together. It was an intimidating sight, seeing all of them sway back and forth as one, giant force. You still manage to hold the stock firm against your shoulder though, making sure the rifle is secure, and then place your finger on the trigger as you wait for the right moment. Heads swiveling back and forth, they stumble forward. Eyes scan for a perfect set-up; you worry about conserving your ammo and think that only such a plan with work with this weapon.
As your finger squeezes the trigger though, your fears have been lessened by two, the bullet accomplishing what you had hoped for as two of the ghouls simply drop down where they had stood. You can’t help but think about how it was quite the feat, even if your ears are still ringing from the massive crack and the soreness that burns in your shoulder. This done, you discard the rifle, tossing it against the wall and out of the way, ready for the next phase of your plan.
As they began to step close to the table, you take out the vial that you had filled with the alcohol; a single touch from the gout of flame to the rag and it ignites almost instantaneously. Now, with the husks starting to weave between the two sections of the table, you rear back and chuck the improvised incendiary into the face of the closest one.
The vial shatters, the sound quickly followed by a small burst of light as the alcohol catches. For a second you see nothing but a silhouette of head and shoulders, the pattern embellished in a cool flame. Then, a wave of heat as the fire makes contact with the floor. You raise your arms to shield your face, a curtain of blue and orange quickly ascending towards the ceiling along with them. You slowly separate your limbs to grant yourself vision and see the victims of your trap:
At least seven of the ghouls were now ablaze, their forms alight with flame. The two sections of table, and everything in between, a conflagration awash with orange and blue, a pillar of the latter enveloping the ghoul that had received the original payload.
You think back to the other passage, where you found the empty blouse, and wonder if the smoke will be an issue. Fortunately, the ceiling appears to be at a moderate level, but still: you should not tarry. You are also thankful to see the inferno isolated for the most part, the edges of the blaze ending where wood meets stone, and staying far from the one you are trying to save. The ghouls are now split, the inferno driving them against the wall as they avoid the fate of their friends.
However, as you draw your revolver to deal with them, those too that are aflame seem to be walking forwards as well. You wondered as to why they didn’t cry out, seemingly ignoring the fact that their own skin now boils away. The smell of burning meat fills your nose and your heart leaps up into your throat as you’re unsure if you have made the situation far more dangerous than it could have been. It is as though the pit was a portal to hell, the flaming ghouls now demons pouring forth from it. Sweat born from both your anxiety and the blistering warmth now flows down from your temples. Still, you lift your firearm and cock the hammer back, ready to fire at the closest threat. Your finger applies a bit of pressure to the trigger, the sights of your gun trained upon the orange tip of the lit form before you. Just before you fire however, the form crumples.
You take your focus away from the sights and notice the others following suit, some more quickly than others, all those who were caught in the initial inferno now succumbing to the devouring light. Confident and relieved that they are no longer a threat, you immediately pivot to the next-closest one and take aim, your left hand coming up to support your right. You line up the sights and pull the trigger, the head jerking back slightly as it is felled.
They come from both sides and you find yourself having to rapidly glance between them to keep from being overwhelmed. Another shot at one on your left, and then two more on the right. You don’t even register whether or not they fall before you start to take aim at the next one. The edge of your mouth curls as you continue. You cock back the hammer again and fire off another shot, the cracks straining your ears in such a space. You don’t care though, your entire focus on eliminating their ranks. The curve from earlier has now become a full grin, teeth now visible.
Bang. Your sixth shot...
You always knew that it would be tough in a time-sensitive situation but unfortunately, a single action revolver is all you have. Tinder’s lesson flashes through your mind as you lie the firearm in your palm:
"Right, now… ya can go ahead and just lay it on down like there, see? Half cock it back and use yer thumb there to turn the cylinder as ya do so, pullin’ the plunger to clear the cylinder."
Another piece of advice goes through your mind as you eject the first casing…
"However, say ya get into some sort of scuffle and ya don’t have time ta eject the whole thing; you gotta fire right now, else ya won’t get ta fire at all: In that case, ya want to eject, load, and then turn it to the next ‘un. Eject, load, click. See? Here… watch me, Miss."
It happens almost as fast as the thoughts pass through your mind, the cylinder ejecting out an empty casing as your hand comes back from your pouch with fresh ammunition. The action is one that feels natural to you, despite your limited time with the device, almost as though you have loaded this gun many times before. The casings bounce off the ground, the sound barely audible over the roar of the fire. You don’t even hear it, your concentration only split between reloading and the distance to the ghouls. Four rounds have now made it into the cylinder, but you find your time is up as you can see the form of one of the ghouls surpassing the others, his speed unprecedented. You shut the loading gate and pull the hammer back, ready to fire.
You turn towards him, aim, and squeeze the trigger… but only hear a click. At first, confusion and desperation cloud your mind. A moment of panic cripples you, but your mistake soon becomes apparent, realizing that, in your haste to fire, you didn’t advance the cylinder…
Even at having realized your mistake , you were still too late, the ghoul grasping you just as you had managed to fire again, the bullet grazing the side of his head.
His hands lock onto your wrists and split apart your grip on the revolver, your arms forced up and to each side. You try to resist but find the strength of this monster even greater than the one in the village, letting out a small cry as a few his nails bypass your vambraces and dig into your arm. You step back, trying to maintain your balance. The ghoul doesn’t stop however, as his mouth closes on yours, forcing its tongue making its way inside.
Your eyes go wide in shock and disgust, the foul flavor of its mouth now filling your own. Utter disbelief is cast over your mind, the thought of such a thing utterly mortifying. You can feel its tongue wriggling inside now, mixing its black saliva with that of your own. It tastes horrible, the taste reminding you of the train station in Novo: oily and metallic. You bite down on it but find the texture rough and sinewy; the action does little to deter its efforts, the force only seeming to secrete more of the tainted fluid from the muscle. The liquid drips out of your mouth, creating black lines similar to those of the ghouls down your chin.
You tried to turn your head away, but it simply pursued your lips, staying locked to them. You close your eyes and cry out in defiance, trying to summon every ounce of strength you have to break its hold on you. The vile bitterness that spreads from its mouth seeps even further, almost choking on the liquid as it starts to find its way down your throat. More muffled screams. You flail your arms the best you can but gain no purchase. A fleeting thought enters your mind… contemplating if the oily taste was that bad, the metallic quality almost gone. It’s… becoming a little harder to find a solution to this, and you feel unsteady; your knees start to feel weak as a dull ache blossoms in your lower abdomen and outward. You shift and lurch, even bringing your knees and shins to bear. Whether or not the ghoul noticed, he advances forward even more. The movement catches you off guard and you find yourself struggling to retain your balance; you aren’t successful.
It didn’t feel fast at all as you fell backwards, more of a gentle descent. You expected a sudden crash and the impact of the ghoul’s body on top of yours. Instead, you felt your bottom drop down and experienced a sudden moment of clarity, as though your muscles themselves were guiding you towards a solution. Your leg kicked up, heel planted in the fiend’s gut. The rest you simply happened.
The next few seconds were a rush as you executed the move: Your bottom made contact with the ground as you arched your back and titled your head forward, the ghoul caught unaware by this sudden shift in direction. It felt wrong to press your mouth further into the ghoul’s, but you eventually break the kiss and manage to tilt your head forward, leaving an inky trail streaked across your face. You held your jaw tight and placed your chin against your chest as you rolled, grabbing the forearms of the ghoul with your free hand. Then, the ghoul was above you, its body caught with your heel resting against its gut. You looked into its eyes for a moment as it passed the apex of the arch , almost thinking you saw confusion present in its gaze. Then, your leg sprang outwards, the ghoul propelled by the force and impacting with the wall behind you. Your landing wasn’t graceful either, the front of your body planting itself against the stone as you waist sails over your head and into the floor. Pain spread from your torso and your knees seized with agony from the staggering blow. Dust slowly settles from the impact, you’re the tail to your duster coming to a rest as in covers your shoulders.
Can’t lay here… have to- Aaaah…
Momentarily dazed, you clumsily manage to stand back up. You shake your head, your mind now swimming as you draw your sword. The pain numbed by the adrenaline in your system, you make your way over to the launched adversary and then deliver a quick swipe of your blade. You don’t cut as deep you had intended but the ghoul’s body slowly ceases to move nonetheless.
You shake your head as you try to rid yourself of the dizziness that remains. You have no idea how you pulled that roll off; it was almost as if your muscles acted of their own accord, your weight shifting at just the right moment. Still, the end of the maneuver could have been better, your head still swimming and breaths ragged as you are still recovering from the past couple of seconds.
Out of all those that came for you, a little over half of them now lie dead.
A little hiccup so far, but now for the rest of them…
Now situated near the far end of the room from Beatrice, you turn to face what remains of the ghouls, still a bit disoriented. You barely have time to take stock of the situation however, as one is already upon you: He lunges straight at you, arms outstretched, black teeth visible as he lets out a low growl...
Results…
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I must say, this is probably the weirdest gift I have ever given anyone. It's a lengthy one, but I hope you all enjoy it.
As for the fight: it’s a rare occurrence, but I also did a few rolls to determine some outcomes and additional events; I think it turned out pretty damn good though. Have a wonderful time NOT pleasuring thyself sexually - for once - but instead, pleasuring thyself with copious amounts of food and spending time with those you love!
I’ll see you guys next year, or perhaps even earlier... best of wishes:
- Cev
P.S. I added a new piece of information under “Weapons”, so you guys can always have a view of what exactly is in the revolver’s chambers in between posts. I figure having excessive detail is better than assumption… so let me know what you guys think. The explanation is, of course, under “Explanations”.
Also, because I just threw it together int he last fifteen minutes:
Readers, voters, and perverts all
Did a story on the CYOA boards, did call.
A large break for months and yet they still came,
For a favorite among the readers was this "game".
A world with guns, pirates, and trains galore,
They voted to not have our heroine become a whore.
She fights and keeps going,
For no undead she'll be blowing!
Tis a naughty adventure she is in,
but again and again she triggers that firing pin.
Although, she may eventually face a situation much much greater,
where the foe wins and decides to mate 'er.
Many more traps and foes lie ahead,
It just may happen that our heroine gets taken in bed.
Whether she or the readers… or the seeders have their way,
This narrative and plot will be one most risqué.
So, early on this Christmas day,
while some in bed still sleep and lay,
Cevrik writes Jacqueline’s story…
may it be one that garners much glory.
I couldn't resist
Did a story on the CYOA boards, did call.
A large break for months and yet they still came,
For a favorite among the readers was this "game".
A world with guns, pirates, and trains galore,
They voted to not have our heroine become a whore.
She fights and keeps going,
For no undead she'll be blowing!
Tis a naughty adventure she is in,
but again and again she triggers that firing pin.
Although, she may eventually face a situation much much greater,
where the foe wins and decides to mate 'er.
Many more traps and foes lie ahead,
It just may happen that our heroine gets taken in bed.
Whether she or the readers… or the seeders have their way,
This narrative and plot will be one most risqué.
So, early on this Christmas day,
while some in bed still sleep and lay,
Cevrik writes Jacqueline’s story…
may it be one that garners much glory.
I couldn't resist
You are crouched behind a bookshelf at the moment, a horde of pale ghouls taking your ally in the cruelest of fashions on the other side. She was crying out not too long ago, but now, has gone silent, whether dead or passed out… you do not know. You can still see her legs bucking upwards with each gyration from the mass of flesh, but they hang limp, no effort behind them. You count around two dozen heads, their exact number hard to determine as they shuffle about. It seems an impossible task with their numbers, even with the powerful weaponry you wield you are still limited to the thirteen shots you carry; after those are gone the odds change drastically.
Beatrice seemed so stubborn when she left you. Now look what her headstrong ways have gotten her into.
“Dammit…” you curse under your breath, wanting to pound your fist into the wood.
Your forehead rests against the bookshelf as you continue to watch the scene with one eye, red locks entering your vision. If only she had agreed to stay together then none of this would have happened. Shock and sadness mix with anger, and for a second you contemplate leaving.
She was so sure of herself… and now look at her. Even if I do save her, won’t she just be a liability? I could just leave her and forsake everything she promised… or risk my life for hers. Still, what then is any amount of gold to someone who died saving their… contract?
”So, I ask: will you assist me in this endeavor?” were her exact words and ”I’ll help”, yours. It seems like months ago that the conversation took place but you still remember it perfectly.
I have helped: more than some and far more than most! you tell yourself
This is the truth, or so you’d like to believe, but you still can’t look away from the sight. You can now see the ghoul that is taking her, the grey thing jerking back and forth, violently, the sounds of sex falling upon your ears. You continue to look, the choice still not clear in your mind.
It quickens its pace. Slaps of flesh ring out.
You wonder just how easy it would be to enter the city: whether she was exaggerating or if her words were fact.
It stops. Another takes its place.
The benefits and the dangers of each path weigh heavy in your mind; doubts, uncertainties, and regrets sitting upon the scales.
You take a deep, ragged breath and lower your eyes, finding yourself a bit flustered now.
Whether it was the scene before you, the reward that she that she had promised to pay, her grant of access to the city, or perhaps just your own inability to simply walk away and leave her to this… no one but you knows: Your reasons are your own.
You decide to help her.
~
Once you decide to help her, you look back up as you try and figure out how to deal with so many opponents. It seems hopeless at first, a monumental task that can’t possibly be achieved. As you continue to look however, you find everything becoming a bit… clearer all of a sudden, both visually and mentally. Pieces of the scene appear more striking, some fading away to reveal other details; it is almost as if you are now displaced from the scenario at hand and given an in-depth look at the pieces that comprise it:
Your breathing slows down, adopting a steady and silent pace. You remain crouched behind the cover, observing the ghouls… no, the targets, huddled together in the corner. You count twenty-five of them, two more currently occupied with a woman who seems to be passed out, her chest rising and falling, faintly and slowly. Usually, such a number would seem overwhelming, but a well of confidence comes from somewhere within you. You watch their movements: how they walk, how they carry themselves and how fast they are. Most of the targets seem be between five and six feet tall, only three of them outliers: two taller and one shorter. Eight of them are wounded in the legs, shin and knee injuries which cause them to drag the afflicted limb. Four others are disabled in their arms, the extremities hanging limply at their sides as they shuffle about. Mouths hang agape, ink-like saliva dripping from the corners of their mouths, leaving black trails down their chin. Six of them are very heavy-set, their cheeks and torsos hanging thick with fat, all of them a part of those that had leg injuries.
You look around the room now and start to become acutely aware of where the table, the bookshelves, the glasses, utensils, and chairs on the floor lay, their positions and locations constantly present in your mind. A new detail is revealed as well: a series of metal sconces, their color the same as the stone, line the room at neck level; there are twelve of them each one laden with a series of rusted metal points. The bookshelves are empty, including the cabinets. Most of the table and chairs are centralized in the middle of the room and the table cloth seems to cover most of the debris.
Certain items you haven’t thought about in a while also come to mind: The waterskin that holds the goblin alcohol, the green potion, the vial of holy water that is now empty, the wraith’s cloak, and the rifle.
These elements shift in your mind, the items in your bag melding with the environment and enemy. Eyes dart around as the plan comes together and you think of certain details you had noted earlier.
There… and then I set it.
No, that first… and then I can take of that.
Luckily they won’t see me, until…
That won’t work, but this…
And then I can use my revolver…
Thoughts dance through your mind. Strategies, tactics, elements in the environment, and the items you hold all shifting around, connecting and then disconnecting as you piece together the solution to this puzzle.
You had a plan.
Grabbing your revolver, you snap open your pouch and exchange the spent rounds. You then holster it, grabbing the rifle from your back and pulling the bolt back a bit to check the state of the round: Still loaded. That done, you now take out the waterskin, the empty vial, and unwrap the black cloak from your shoulders. You uncork the skin and hold your composure as the strong vapors of the grain alcohol waft into your nostrils. You fill the vial up three quarters of the way and then stuff the rag inside, turning the vial over and again to test it. Putting the items, along with the burning rod you had out, back into your bag and set the vial into your pouch as you make your way back to the door.
You had almost considered putting the green, “dangerous” potion you had to use, but you have a feeling it won’t work like the holy water did, your gut telling you it’s more of a poison.
You shuffle to the exit and then slowly close the doors shut, confident the ghouls won’t hear it now if they had not before. The hinges bend and creak as you push but you stay committed. Once closed, you search the doors for any way of securing them, but the handles seem to be simple pieces of iron, hammered into the wooden slab and then bent downwards. You will not be able to secure it. You turn and look and sure enough, your foes still meander about, entirely oblivious to your presence.
Now comes the tricky part…
Sticking close to the wall, you make your way back to the center of the room, this time making your way over to the shelf that contains Beatrice’s lantern. You keep watch on the mob, the horde still drawn to the corner, sating their sexual appetite apparently all that motivates them. You weave about, footfalls avoiding the pieces of wood and corpses that scatter the floor, every once in a while shooting a furtive glance towards the pale congregation, watching for any signs that your cover is blown.
So far so good…
Finally, your gloved hands grasp the metal box and you lift it up, reaching underneath for the true prize; taking hold of the cylinder attached to the bottom of the box, you give it a few twists, freeing the oil container from the rest of the lantern, a moderately sized flame burning on top. Unfortunately, it seems this is as far as you can prepare unnoticed.
It was a low screech that caught your attention, a phlegm-filled bellow that was soon echoed by others. You acted in haste now.
With a clatter, you let the bronze box fall to the ground, and set the lit cylinder back down on the bookcase as you went for the closest half of the table. With as powerful a kick you can muster, you thrust your foot out and push against the split piece of furniture, sending the piece of lumber skirting to lie next to its adjoining side. The table cloth now bunched up between the two sections, you throw a few pieces of broken chair into the mix as fast as you can before ripping the waterskin from your bag. Ripping the cork out with your teeth, you turn it over, dumping its contents on the pile. Then you wait, watching the ghouls who are now interested in you slowly make their way closer.
Five... ten. It seems quite a few of them have taken interest in you, a new potential victim for their unholy pleasures.
Fifteen… twenty… and five more. All but the two who are now taking Beatrice come for you now.
Alright… you tell yourself, before giving muttering a few words of confidence.
You wait, seeing all of them in their gruesome presence, their faces now turned to you. The same vacant eyes look at you through a milky sheen, the white orbs seemingly devoid of any detail. Black lines drip from some of their mouths, the maws opening and closing in anticipation. The most disturbing feature of all, however, were the loins of each one now plainly visible. You do not shudder as you look upon them though; even if their fleeting flaccidness and disturbing features are an unsettling sight, you stand firm, ready to face them.
They come together, their forms shoulder to shoulder as they proceed towards you, anxious to satiate their lust once more. This… is exactly what you had hoped for.
First, you unsling the rifle from your back and line up the sights near the heads where they seemed to clump together. It was an intimidating sight, seeing all of them sway back and forth as one, giant force. You still manage to hold the stock firm against your shoulder though, making sure the rifle is secure, and then place your finger on the trigger as you wait for the right moment. Heads swiveling back and forth, they stumble forward. Eyes scan for a perfect set-up; you worry about conserving your ammo and think that only such a plan with work with this weapon.
As your finger squeezes the trigger though, your fears have been lessened by two, the bullet accomplishing what you had hoped for as two of the ghouls simply drop down where they had stood. You can’t help but think about how it was quite the feat, even if your ears are still ringing from the massive crack and the soreness that burns in your shoulder. This done, you discard the rifle, tossing it against the wall and out of the way, ready for the next phase of your plan.
As they began to step close to the table, you take out the vial that you had filled with the alcohol; a single touch from the gout of flame to the rag and it ignites almost instantaneously. Now, with the husks starting to weave between the two sections of the table, you rear back and chuck the improvised incendiary into the face of the closest one.
The vial shatters, the sound quickly followed by a small burst of light as the alcohol catches. For a second you see nothing but a silhouette of head and shoulders, the pattern embellished in a cool flame. Then, a wave of heat as the fire makes contact with the floor. You raise your arms to shield your face, a curtain of blue and orange quickly ascending towards the ceiling along with them. You slowly separate your limbs to grant yourself vision and see the victims of your trap:
At least seven of the ghouls were now ablaze, their forms alight with flame. The two sections of table, and everything in between, a conflagration awash with orange and blue, a pillar of the latter enveloping the ghoul that had received the original payload.
You think back to the other passage, where you found the empty blouse, and wonder if the smoke will be an issue. Fortunately, the ceiling appears to be at a moderate level, but still: you should not tarry. You are also thankful to see the inferno isolated for the most part, the edges of the blaze ending where wood meets stone, and staying far from the one you are trying to save. The ghouls are now split, the inferno driving them against the wall as they avoid the fate of their friends.
However, as you draw your revolver to deal with them, those too that are aflame seem to be walking forwards as well. You wondered as to why they didn’t cry out, seemingly ignoring the fact that their own skin now boils away. The smell of burning meat fills your nose and your heart leaps up into your throat as you’re unsure if you have made the situation far more dangerous than it could have been. It is as though the pit was a portal to hell, the flaming ghouls now demons pouring forth from it. Sweat born from both your anxiety and the blistering warmth now flows down from your temples. Still, you lift your firearm and cock the hammer back, ready to fire at the closest threat. Your finger applies a bit of pressure to the trigger, the sights of your gun trained upon the orange tip of the lit form before you. Just before you fire however, the form crumples.
You take your focus away from the sights and notice the others following suit, some more quickly than others, all those who were caught in the initial inferno now succumbing to the devouring light. Confident and relieved that they are no longer a threat, you immediately pivot to the next-closest one and take aim, your left hand coming up to support your right. You line up the sights and pull the trigger, the head jerking back slightly as it is felled.
They come from both sides and you find yourself having to rapidly glance between them to keep from being overwhelmed. Another shot at one on your left, and then two more on the right. You don’t even register whether or not they fall before you start to take aim at the next one. The edge of your mouth curls as you continue. You cock back the hammer again and fire off another shot, the cracks straining your ears in such a space. You don’t care though, your entire focus on eliminating their ranks. The curve from earlier has now become a full grin, teeth now visible.
Bang. Your sixth shot...
You always knew that it would be tough in a time-sensitive situation but unfortunately, a single action revolver is all you have. Tinder’s lesson flashes through your mind as you lie the firearm in your palm:
"Right, now… ya can go ahead and just lay it on down like there, see? Half cock it back and use yer thumb there to turn the cylinder as ya do so, pullin’ the plunger to clear the cylinder."
Another piece of advice goes through your mind as you eject the first casing…
"However, say ya get into some sort of scuffle and ya don’t have time ta eject the whole thing; you gotta fire right now, else ya won’t get ta fire at all: In that case, ya want to eject, load, and then turn it to the next ‘un. Eject, load, click. See? Here… watch me, Miss."
It happens almost as fast as the thoughts pass through your mind, the cylinder ejecting out an empty casing as your hand comes back from your pouch with fresh ammunition. The action is one that feels natural to you, despite your limited time with the device, almost as though you have loaded this gun many times before. The casings bounce off the ground, the sound barely audible over the roar of the fire. You don’t even hear it, your concentration only split between reloading and the distance to the ghouls. Four rounds have now made it into the cylinder, but you find your time is up as you can see the form of one of the ghouls surpassing the others, his speed unprecedented. You shut the loading gate and pull the hammer back, ready to fire.
You turn towards him, aim, and squeeze the trigger… but only hear a click. At first, confusion and desperation cloud your mind. A moment of panic cripples you, but your mistake soon becomes apparent, realizing that, in your haste to fire, you didn’t advance the cylinder…
Even at having realized your mistake , you were still too late, the ghoul grasping you just as you had managed to fire again, the bullet grazing the side of his head.
His hands lock onto your wrists and split apart your grip on the revolver, your arms forced up and to each side. You try to resist but find the strength of this monster even greater than the one in the village, letting out a small cry as a few his nails bypass your vambraces and dig into your arm. You step back, trying to maintain your balance. The ghoul doesn’t stop however, as his mouth closes on yours, forcing its tongue making its way inside.
Your eyes go wide in shock and disgust, the foul flavor of its mouth now filling your own. Utter disbelief is cast over your mind, the thought of such a thing utterly mortifying. You can feel its tongue wriggling inside now, mixing its black saliva with that of your own. It tastes horrible, the taste reminding you of the train station in Novo: oily and metallic. You bite down on it but find the texture rough and sinewy; the action does little to deter its efforts, the force only seeming to secrete more of the tainted fluid from the muscle. The liquid drips out of your mouth, creating black lines similar to those of the ghouls down your chin.
You tried to turn your head away, but it simply pursued your lips, staying locked to them. You close your eyes and cry out in defiance, trying to summon every ounce of strength you have to break its hold on you. The vile bitterness that spreads from its mouth seeps even further, almost choking on the liquid as it starts to find its way down your throat. More muffled screams. You flail your arms the best you can but gain no purchase. A fleeting thought enters your mind… contemplating if the oily taste was that bad, the metallic quality almost gone. It’s… becoming a little harder to find a solution to this, and you feel unsteady; your knees start to feel weak as a dull ache blossoms in your lower abdomen and outward. You shift and lurch, even bringing your knees and shins to bear. Whether or not the ghoul noticed, he advances forward even more. The movement catches you off guard and you find yourself struggling to retain your balance; you aren’t successful.
It didn’t feel fast at all as you fell backwards, more of a gentle descent. You expected a sudden crash and the impact of the ghoul’s body on top of yours. Instead, you felt your bottom drop down and experienced a sudden moment of clarity, as though your muscles themselves were guiding you towards a solution. Your leg kicked up, heel planted in the fiend’s gut. The rest you simply happened.
The next few seconds were a rush as you executed the move: Your bottom made contact with the ground as you arched your back and titled your head forward, the ghoul caught unaware by this sudden shift in direction. It felt wrong to press your mouth further into the ghoul’s, but you eventually break the kiss and manage to tilt your head forward, leaving an inky trail streaked across your face. You held your jaw tight and placed your chin against your chest as you rolled, grabbing the forearms of the ghoul with your free hand. Then, the ghoul was above you, its body caught with your heel resting against its gut. You looked into its eyes for a moment as it passed the apex of the arch , almost thinking you saw confusion present in its gaze. Then, your leg sprang outwards, the ghoul propelled by the force and impacting with the wall behind you. Your landing wasn’t graceful either, the front of your body planting itself against the stone as you waist sails over your head and into the floor. Pain spread from your torso and your knees seized with agony from the staggering blow. Dust slowly settles from the impact, you’re the tail to your duster coming to a rest as in covers your shoulders.
Can’t lay here… have to- Aaaah…
Momentarily dazed, you clumsily manage to stand back up. You shake your head, your mind now swimming as you draw your sword. The pain numbed by the adrenaline in your system, you make your way over to the launched adversary and then deliver a quick swipe of your blade. You don’t cut as deep you had intended but the ghoul’s body slowly ceases to move nonetheless.
You shake your head as you try to rid yourself of the dizziness that remains. You have no idea how you pulled that roll off; it was almost as if your muscles acted of their own accord, your weight shifting at just the right moment. Still, the end of the maneuver could have been better, your head still swimming and breaths ragged as you are still recovering from the past couple of seconds.
Out of all those that came for you, a little over half of them now lie dead.
A little hiccup so far, but now for the rest of them…
Now situated near the far end of the room from Beatrice, you turn to face what remains of the ghouls, still a bit disoriented. You barely have time to take stock of the situation however, as one is already upon you: He lunges straight at you, arms outstretched, black teeth visible as he lets out a low growl...
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