The Chase

July 18, 2011


“Stupid Harry Potter broom flying wannabes,” was the tamest thing that flew from my lips as I sprinted as fast as I dared through the forest. The branches did what they could to remove themselves from my way as I chased the last surviving Gloom. See, I told you Yig loved me.

The little fog bugger had gotten a good head start, but with the forest aiding me and hindering him, I had almost caught up to him before he reached his corrupted section of woods. As soon as he entered the ruined area, the trees thinned into twisted lifeless trunks and clouds of grey dust floated into the air with each of his footfalls.

He sensed me coming and turned. A Bestow was hurled at me and hit me in the center of the chest. Again parts of my leather and then my flesh were torn from my body, their substance broken down into their base atoms and dispersed into the winds. I clenched my teeth and hoped that my protection from Yig would see me through.

“Okay, my turn,” I yelled, as I took my new hand axe from my belt and hurled it at him. It took the backwoods freak in the leg and he took a serious digger into a tree. The nappy hick was struggling to get his sickle ready as he scrambled to regain his footing, but was able to do neither.

My monster sized hammer broke his right arm with a wicked sounding snap and the sickle went flying. He fell back to the ground and tried to raise his left arm to cast a Bestow. The hammer to his chest distracted him a bit.

I moved in closer while taking the guy in. He wore ratty old flannels and jeans that had faded to a dull ashy grey. His hair was a mess, but on the upside, did match his patchy beard well. His grey eyes leaked mist as he clutched his broken arm and looked up at me.

“Now listen you little bitch. Can we just skip the, ‘I’m not going to tell you a thing,’ game. I frankly have better things to do that torture you.”

“Your sad excuse for pain, would not even be worthy of mention compared to what the Bitters would do to me.”

I groaned. “And I was trying to avoid the obvious clichés. But since you insist, tell me where my friends are being taken or I’ll make you wish the Bitters or whatever these Hogwarts mofos are called had you…” Looking around, the sparse dead trees were giving me a clear view of a snow capped peak to my west. “Oh hell, they’re just up on top of that mountain aren’t they?”

He blanched. “That’s all I needed to know. You Xemmoni think you’re so clever, but you are all predictable as Hell. Living in the big mountain… ooooo, I never would have guessed that.”

“What about me, smart guy? You’re a Stalwart, you can’t just kill a wounded man in cold blood.”

“Firstly, you’re not a man.” After tucking my hand axe through my belt, I yanked him to his feet. “Secondly, your sorry ass is coming with me.”

“What, why? Won’t I just give you away?”

“Huh, an honest Gloom, how quant. No, I got other plans for you buddy. So what do you call yourself anyway?” 

“I’m known as Dick.”

“Seems fitting. Now come on, Dick-for-brains, let’s go pay a visit on these Bitters. I should kill them for ruining one of the nick-names for beer if nothing else.”

 

Want to get in on how Jack began his adventures? Check it out here!

 

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