Chapter 6

It was the second night when the Emo-beasts “molted”. The Gloomsoul Azur’aleev could hear the distant cries of the tormented creatures as they sauntered, staggered, skittered or skimmed through the dark alleyways; looking for victims to share their pain.

Azur’aleev had forgotten his old name and has given himself a new name in honor of his service to a deity that calls itself: Eidolon. He knew well of the pain that the Emo-beast suffer, for he had felt the same unending anguish twenty years ago in the same bleak world where the gray creatures came from. But he was not an Emo-beast, nor was he ever. The Gloomsoul is human, appearing as he did before he banned all kindness from his black heart: a weary teenager of fourteen constantly burdened by the weight of despair, his long locks of obsidian hair flowed from his head down to his buttocks, he wore nothing more than a simple black band t-shirt and short pants, the only two things he wore to signify his badge of office were leather gauntlets on his hands and a gruesome totem pole festooned with preserved hearts; the pole was tied around his waist with an ornate sash.

He watched the beasts claw at their own ashen carapaces; tiny blue flames emerged and flickered from their wounds instead of blood moaning and wailing incessantly, filling the night air with cacophony. Their Leaders Emo-jekyll and Emo-Hyde emerged from the mass of gray creatures, turning their heads left and right; scanning their surroundings until they met the gaze the one who renamed himself Azur’aleev.

“You… we… know you!” snarled Emo-jekyll which was followed by Emo-hyde saying: “Give… it back!” then both shouted in unison “Give back our face!!!!”

The Gloomsoul replied by raising an eyebrow in disbelief. Surely by now the creatures would have learned to embrace the concept of eternal agony, and how it brings one closer to the goddess Eidolon; daughter of the void. It is true that Azur’aleev took everything they held dear, but he did so only because these so called “losers” are worthy of receiving the goddess’ blessings. How ungrateful he thought.

“I assume that you two are the leaders of this unorganized rabble.” He said with an obvious tone of condescension present in his voice.

“We are… yes…” Emo-jekyll repied followed by an irate Emo-hyde: “Now… give it… back!”

“Understand that what was taken is now forever lost, but not without… compensation.” The priest said with all confidence. “The goddess’ blessings are upon you now. Accept the despair and the anguish, it gives you strength… and will you all stop whining to yourselves and LISTEN!”

There was a silent awkwardness as the emo-beasts halted their wailings and surprisingly paid attention.

“…Now where was I? Ah yes; accept the anguish for it gives you strength, mourn not on your loss, celebrate your gains instead!”

The priest then pointed to the farther side of the city, in an old power plant where a rave is commencing; faint sounds of music can be heard by the beasts now that they have stopped their incessant cries. They scattered to climb over small buildings to gain a better view of the powerplant, they focused their gray eyes on the tiny flashes of light followed by the continuous explosions of fireworks. Inside that building are happy people, people who enjoyed themselves; drowning their sorrows –if they have any- in music and alcohol, they have a different principle in life than the emo-beasts, perhaps it was time for them to come over and… compare philosophies.

“Most blessed of Eidolon, though your shells be grey, I promise you that before the night is over; they will be red… red with the blood of our victims. Go forth blessed ones, go for and preach the goddess’ words!”

There was the sound of feet scuttling through the streets and the sound of wings cutting through the air, moments later the loud techno music was replaced by a symphony of whirling blades tearing through flesh and bone, ending with a crescendo of dying screams… and then there was silence.

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“Hey Edward, could you pass me the mead” Edward said to the other Edward as he extended his hand; trying to reach for the jug.
The other Edward complied as he cried “Alodia!” from the top of his lungs.
Yes, they’re all named Edward save for one who’s name is Burd. They are a variant of the Xanthids, homunculi birthed by the same creature that created Othessa and Lacy. They hail from the floating tower of Ithafeer, and have been assigned to guard the two dolls for reasons that can’t be revealed for now.
Nineteen were named Edward and one is Burd; with heads half the size of a grown man’s torso, top with a matted mane of blonde hair and pale skin lined with blue veins. Their bodies were stunted, with long arms covered with sinewy muscles ending in wide dexterous hands, contrary to their arms; their legs were short and stumpy, built for stability and endurance.
Seeing themselves as warriors, the Edwards –and Burd- are not without their weapons; be it a glaive, a maul, or greatsword, their huge implements of war are always slung on their belts.
They are garbed in drab chainmail topped off with a breastplate, nineteen wore helms the size of toilet bowls save for Burd. Like their weapons, they wear their armor all the time; be it winter or summer, be it on the bed or in the bath, they wear it all the time.
Xanthids are also known for their voracious appetites, they can eat as much food as they weigh and they don’t seem to produce any waste.

One by one, the creatures finished their meal. With their stumpy legs they shuffled about the house yelling “Alodia”. Edward was the last to finish eating, with one last gulp of his mead he made off accompanied by loud guttural “burp” leaving Othessa and Lacy to clean up the mess.

Malvolio got out of bed and propped himself on the small wheelchair that was provided for him and rolled his way out into the balcony to have a smoke. Baby Panda Seal Wreastling was interrupted by an emergency newsflash regarding a rave party that resulted into a massacre and details on who perpetrated this heinous act is still unknown.
The gnome formulated some speculations of his own; perhaps it was done by roving gangs of goblins? No, goblins who live in urban areas tend to stick to sewers and derelict areas, and besides, goblins are naturally “sneaky” they won’t kill that much people at once. Perhaps a truckload of rabid Razor-weasel fell over? Nah, it was too unlikely. Maybe it was…   

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Warlord Razekiel lay low on a perch, observing the army of undead head up to the pass. His crest of red hair bristled with excitement from the promise of an impending battle. With all the haste he could muster, he ran back to his troops and began yelling orders:
“Deadies ahed ladz, we’re legging down to a foit!”

All the Johnnish soldiers thrust their weapons up into the air and yelled: “Bah-Boosh!” followed by the sound of more than a hundred hairy feet thundering down the mountain; each one trying to be first to score “Furst Blud”. This frustrated the warlord who tried to catch up to his delinquent army, grabbing a random Johnnish by the scruff and hurling them to the back of the ranks.

“Furst blud’s moin, ya dirty gits!” he bellowed out as he picked up another runt and bashing it on the head with his meaty fist. “Back o’ da line wid yoo!”

The enemy was now in sight and Razekiel was disappointed to see very few of them, still “a foit’s foit”. He couldn’t run fast enough to make it into the front lines; in an unusual stroke of genius he began to put a plan in motion. He wrapped a ham-sized fist around the ear of the nearest yeti he could find, he pulled the monstrous creature’s head down until its ear was aligned with his toothy mouth and yelled “Throw me to da front, ya dirty sack o’ ticks!” the yeti complied, picking up Razekiel and hurled him into the enemy, the other yetis saw the brilliant display of improvised artillery and followed suite; picking up a nearby Johnnish and throwing them with deadly velocity, some picked up heavily armored units because everyone knows that: “’Eavy thingz, make ‘eavy ‘urtz!”

Chrome lotus could see the hairy hordes charging closer, He quickly waved his hands in a somatic rhythm erecting a wall of fire in front of the Johnnish forcing an entire unit to break ranks and scatter in multiple directions after suffering severe casualties.
The mage chuckled with delight. Surely a bunch of savages would prove no match for his vast intellect and lethal arsenal of spells; he could single-handedly clear these mountains if he wanted to. But the arrogant mage failed to realize one thing: fire melts snow. Within seconds he could hear the loud rumbling sound of an impending avalanche.

“Get back here, spell-flinging coward!” Drachenfaust yelled at the fat mage who was already fleeing the scene; carried by his ghouls. He would have chased down the deserter if it wasn’t for the huge avalanche of snow and fur that fell over him and his boneguards.

Chrome Lotus was confident that he could escape the falling onslaught of snow and screaming Johnnish bodies. He was wrong, for from up high came the barrage of jonnish warriors, falling into the cold ground with the sound of thunderclaps; some died in their descent, most were maimed, but there was one who landed merely inches from the fat mage; it had a mane of thick red hair, and thick ropy muscles.

“Itz choppin’ time!!!”  Razekiel bellowed, followed by a quick swing of his cleaver taking a burly ghoul’s head clean off its shoulders. In an inevitable turn of events; the mage fell on his platform, he ordered the remaining ghoul to distract the Johnnish warlord as he struggled to regain his balance.
Razekiel launched himself towards the charging ghoul like a hairy cannonball. He made contact with the creature’s barrel-shaped chest knocking it on it’s back, the warlord then wrapped his huge hands around the creature’s jaw; holding it in place for a killing blow.
Chrome Lotus was now up on his feet, seeing his ghoul dispatched by the Johnnish’ cleaver, he raised one hand and summoned a glimmering silver longsword out of thin air. Without a moment’s hesitation; he raised the weapon and swung it at the hirsute warrior who merely stepped sideways to avoid the blow followed by a swing of its sinewy arms across the mage’s back legs causing him to lose balance and topple back.

The Johnnish warlord raised his cleaver for the kill, he was about to swig it home into the fat mage’s head but was stopped by a sharp searing pain erupting from his back. He turned around to see mummified cat clad in an ornate fullplate; its cruel greatsword poised for another strike.

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Klaus parried the projectile with the shaft of his hammer, followed by a roll to the side. He placed his weapon between his teeth and ran on all fours. Using a trick his mother taught him; Klaus used the long shaft of his weapon to trip a g0blin, the creature yelped as it fell its back, its struggle to get up was cut short by a hammer’s head driven into its face.
There were more, the cat knew that he was surrounded. His problems were made much worse when two g0blinz opened fire with their improvised machineguns; sending forth a hail of hollowpoints towards Klaus. The cat knight dodged the first volley, and quickly hid behind a tree.

“W3 g0t im nao!” said one g0blin to the other as they began to reload their weapons.

“Yuz da AP ammo, we’ll shoot tru dat 3 n pwn his azz!” replied the other

The two g0blinz raised their weapon and took aim, but were knocked unconscious by a swift kick from a giant grasshopper. The large insect bounded towards another target; bowling it into the ground and its clawed feet into the hapless g0blin’s gut, followed by furiously kicking with its powerful hind legs; instantly killing another g0blin who was unfortunate enough to be standing close by.

Klaus summoned the grasshopper back to him after he watched the large insect dispatch another g0blin. The grasshopper leaped over two more g0blins as it made its way to its master.

“Good work” Klaus said as he rubbed the giant grasshopper’s carapace, pulling out an automatic shrapnel launcher from the pack. He then hid behind a toppled tree trunk and opened fire; sending shards of sharpened metal flying through the air and into the bodies of hapless g0blinz. I t was just a shame that the cat didn’t have enough ammunition to deal with more g0blinz that emerged from the trees and began firing or hurling projectiles in random directions.
Klaus was cornered and he didn’t know if his ammunition would hold on. He had thought of just jumping out from cover and wade it out on melee, he hesitated; if he is to jump at his enemies swinging his hammer then let it be done only as a last resort.

The cat knight fired another burst from his shrapnel launcher emptying its contents in the process; he ducked back into hiding and started reloading his weapon.

“H0ld ur fyre!” one g0blin shouted “M0ve n 4 da kill!!!1”

All the other g0blins raised their weapons and started closing in on Klaus. They inched closer; their fingers tensing around their weapons, or triggers. One g0blin sneaked in closer to its target, it had a makeshift incendiary device in its hands and was poised to throw when a steam of bullets came out of nowhere peppering the creature full of holes causing the bomb to detonate; sending shards of metal bits flying in all directions and killing most of its comrades. More bullets came pouting out from every direction, drowning the screams of dying g0blinz with the continuous boom of exploding shells until all was silent.

Klaus emerged from cover moment after the short firefight, scattered over the forest floor were the dead bodies of g0blinz; their laptops and weapons were being pulled out of their remains by small figures with furry ears and tails poking out of their thick robes.

“Lolkats” Klaus exclaimed. They were regular cats who ventured into the droog forest and discovered “the internets”. Like the g0blinz, they were changed but albeit significantly less violent; they wore thick black robes with pointed hoods, with palm pilots, laptops and other handheld devices strapped to their backs. They have an affinity for guns are never found without their “Kustom Shooper” slung on their sides.

Klaus was too deep in his thoughts to notice one Lolkat wearing a red hood that was rummaging through his packs. He broke his reverie to focus a curious gaze on the bizarre creature, who merely looked back at him with a ridiculous smile on its face.

“I’m in ur backpack… stealin’ ur foods!” it said before resuming its task of looking through Klaus’ belongings.

“Thank you for the assistance herr-lolkat” Klaus said with a thick broken abysinian accent. “Der g0blinz nearly had me finished.”

“No wurry, we haet g0blinz” the looting lolkat replied “We don’t liek g0blinz cuz dey stealz our internets; we would have pwned dem even if u weren’t in trouble.”

“Um… might you then please stop stealing my provisions herr-lolkat, ein need it for mein trip.”

“Trip yous sez, will der be plenty o’ things to shoop in dis place?”

“Yes… undead I guess, why do you ask?”

“We lieks shooping stuff, do undead make good shooping?”

“I’ve fought some before, and shooting them seems to be the best way to kill them.”

“We goes wid you.”

“Why?”

“To shoop stuff”

This was Klaus’ first time to talk with a lolkat, and he found out that they far more of oddity than what was described in the stories he’d heard, but perhaps he could make an ally out of these unhinged individuals.