I slipped into the darkness, not knowing where I should go or what to do. Will Crawford let me in the house? God damn it. I didn't have much choice so I tried to remember as much as I could about where I had weaved through in order to reach his house. As I explored the sprawling streets of the ancient city, severing isolated ghouls should they come into view, a horde of Eshers came into view. I froze, gripping the hatbox roughly that the onyx metal caved in.
I remember the bites that permeated my face and figure, the acid that pierced my skin, melting it so that burnt flesh hung in the air. I remember my head flying off, separated from the torso in a flight where it would be consumed by the ghouls. I cannot move. My body does not listen to my pleas of escape. You must fight, the voices say. I am frightened by the Eshers, I reply. Only by confronting your fears will you escape this nightmare. Shit.
Deses. Orkos. The glinting silver blade and flintlock are heavier than they were before. My heart races, fearing my possible death. It will be alright, I tell myself. I am stronger now. More skilled than I was back then. Is it true? A voice of doubt asks but I am already freefalling into the gloomy pavement of the eternally dark city. My feet hit the ground as soft as a cat's. I placed the hatbox inside my coat, hoping it does not fall off or it does not get ruined. The Eshers are, thankfully, not alerted. I search for courage but it is hiding. I want to escape, my feet shaking from the sight of those ghouls which had left me near dead. Cold sweat trickles down my spine, and hair raises as the blood-curdling breeze blew. I strode forward, my stomach dropping each step I took.
A melody of curses brewed in my mind but I strode still, forward, to my nightmares, to the depths of Yarim's abominations. The gaunt flesh smells blood and look behind. The first two I encounter are beheaded. The next four are shot. I am almost out of silver for my pistol. I use them all, missing a few but landing most: head, stomach, chest. Orkos. Released. I gripped the saber tightly, taking a deep breath to calm my throbbing heart.
They hissed and growled, attempting to seize my limbs but I am not weary as I had been before. The lunges are easily avoided, not even grazing my garb. I snapped their skulls with the hilt of my saber, and pierced the flesh that oozed the same green that had burnt my flesh. The smell of molten flesh hangs overhead but it is not mine.
I continue my sword dance, listening to the voices, interpreting the tugs of my stomach, penetrating the gaunt figures with the silver blade. Their spilling blood does not touch me as it had before, seeping into the jagged pavement of the streets of Yarim, filling them with cascading green acid. After a while, I do not need to see their faces anymore; I do not need the help of the dim lamps and lights of the houses. The slinking of their footsteps, the croaking of their breaths, the growls of their mouths are enough.
The wooden grip of the saber was rough earlier but it is relaxed now, as if I had held it since I was a babe. The blade dances in the scintillating moonlight and soon, the last of them had been decimated. The corses lay on the pavement, some headless, other shot, most pierced and stabbed. I did not even need to use fire. Puddles of their green blood burn the stone pavement and the smell of charcoal hangs in the air.
I sit on my bottom on an empty pavement where I know the acid will not be able to scape my skin even a little, and stare at the bodies. Tens, perhaps even a hundred ghouls slain by me. I suffered no injury whatsoever and this curiously pleased me; I did not know when I began to delight in the deaths of other beings. I must watch myself. I took the hatbox and managed to interpret the scribbles jotted: Yarim's Legion.
I look around and the collection of houses are strangely familiar. When the handsome-looking man walked in, I knew I had come to the right place. Azure eyes met my vermillion and I recognized him. Who would not when noticing that horrendous beard of his?!
"Crawford," I said, grateful that I had met the man I had been looking for, though it was accidental.
"Hunter," he said. He tipped his hat as a greeting. "Why have you come to this part of town?"
"I seek shelter," I said. "Will you allow me to lodge in your home for now?"
"Rosalia kick you out?" he asked.
"What—No, no, no. You are acquainted with Rosalia?"
"Acquainted with her? I've hunted with her! You didn't know Rosalia and I were hunters? Ah, I forgot, you were an outsider. Well, Rosalia did hunt—only woman to ever join Legion. Damn good one, too, as she was recognized to be fourth or fifth best but I still believe that spot belongs to me," he said. "We'd fight over it and Old Virgil would grip our collars to stop our wailing and hollering over the spot. So, yes, I am acquainted with her, but that would be a large understatement of our relationship."
"That's—that's preposterous!" I ejaculated. "She sounded so prim and proper when I had talked to her in her house."
"Let's leave it at that, Hunter." Crawford said, pointing at a colossal mammoth of a ghoul that wore Death's cloak, an oversized axe in its hand. It seemed to be searching for us as it lingered on the bodies of the Eshers. "I wouldn't fancy you dying when you can use the orb or live still."
I heard the word again. Orbs. Alfred had said it hours ago (a day ago) but I did not know what it meant. Virgil had not told me what they were and Alice did not look to be in a state where conversation would be helpful to her. She needed time and I am willing to give it to her.
The ground shook.
"Where to?" I asked Crawford.
There. He pointed at a wall of concrete between two houses. It sounded overtly moronic but I did not bring this up since my stay in Yarim was overtly moronic for other people. The concrete moved after Crawford groped around for something. The ground shook again. The mammoth was looking at us, recognizing prey. It started towards us, the whole world quaking with each stride it took.
"Quickly," Crawford hissed, snatching the collar of my coat as he brought me to the other side of the concrete. "Walk on your own now—" he remarked as we trooped a narrow corridor fashioned inside the concrete. It looked to be connected to the houses surrounding it. "the wall will stay open for much longer. Grims have great smelling and even greater strength, we will be dead if we do not hurry."
We ran.