Upon a field of corpses, I reveled in a victory alone. A bloody pool formed. In it, my face became twisted and cruel, laughing as my teeth grew sharper. Behind me, the souls of soldiers ascended to the sky, only to be shot down by lightning. The ones that have not left stared at me with hollow eyes. When I turned around, they were gone.
"A shiny copper! A shiny copper is all you need!" What?
"If you think the tax collector is the most heartless man alive, then you haven't seen anything yet!" Someone yelled. So much commotion. Was I in a city? Ahh, what strange tranquility.
"Just a shinny copper, sir!"
I awoke to the sounds of morons ogling, children laughing, and seniors praying. A hundred or so busybodies crowded in front of a dilapidated medicine shop. They were staring. Two idiots had strapped me to a hospital stretcher and paraded me around. One was a Sariassian boy who handed out insight-crystal etchings of someone's innards. The other boy collected change with a police beret.
The fractures on the skull, the cavity in the chest, and the embedded shrapnel painted a man held together only by the miracle of modern medicine. I winced in pain, doing the math. That was me.
"Where in the seven hells am I?" I pondered aloud. The stubble on my chin itched dearly.
"It's alive! Run for your lives! Save the children!" and the crowd ran in terror, trampling anything in their way. Fruits stalls tipped over, wagons flipped, and livestock freed themselves. The civilians fled well, but they saved children poorly.
"Calm down, fellow… Lorians? I mean you no harm!" I reasoned as loudly as I could. Somehow, lying was second nature to me. Slowly, faces began to peer out from behind the stalls and buildings.
"How… how are you feeling, sir?" The police beret boy tried to ward me off with a sorcerian holy relic.
"What kind of freakshow only has one freak? The people want variety! Either join me or let me go. There is no point to this charade," I gestured at my binding.
"Do…. You have a desire for human flesh?" The Sariassian boy hastily poured through a massive tome, every hair in his body at full attention.
"Depends on who's offering," I said before realizing my mistake. While the first tranquilizer round proved ineffective, the next two did the trick.
"Sweet Belenatum, he has the tolerance of a horse," was the last thing I heard.
This time, I was in a village hidden by the mountains. Wild streams cut their way through the old stone roads, watering the overgrown vegetation and mosses. Out of a quaint wooden hut, a woman emerged, singing of vengeance. She wore a veil and shawl in a silver shade, sunlight passing through her like an apparition. I followed her until she turned around. She had seven eyes.
"Oh, Deathly Griffon, spare this tortured soul, and welcome him back to your embrace." A priestly voice poured holy water over my face.
I was awake again. Several police officers jumped back, gripping their batons. A dirty man with stern narrow eyes leaned on a shovel, placing down a silver pitcher. I was in that shop, bound at the foot of an oak tree.
"If you're just going to exorcise me, why did you save me?" I looked for the Sariassian boy.
"Who are you looking for?" The dirty man came closer, dressed in the brown linen tunic and coat of an ordained gravedigger. The holy sun of Belenatum faded into the rustiness of his clothes.
"Uhh, the Sariassian lad."
"How did you know he saved you?" His grave voice picked up.
"He looked like the only person among you who could read."
The coppers whispered among themselves, and the other lad, now in a sergeant's attire, came forward. He whispered something into the old gravedigger's ear.
"Yes, Cletus. Now, stranger, what do you remember?" the old gravedigger asked.
"Not much. I'm Lorian, and I was born in the Crescentian province, that's it."
"How do you know that?"
"Well, my accent. Also, the exorcism you read, where is it from?"
"The Truth of The Light, the holy book of Belenatum."
"I thought it was 'Oh angel of justice, smite this tortured soul, for his buried eyes had forsaken Belenatum's heavenly kingdom and his vacant heart, the Greater God's Grace.'" I bluffed.
"Hmm… You may be right. I only know the rites, after all." He freed me from my binding, and I immediately bolted for the front door. Realizing none of them were stopping me, I turned back.
"Why are you setting me free?" I leaned on the counter, studying the creature parts kept in the jars.
"To see where you would go. You know more than you have let on, but you are no threat to humanity. You can stay with us." The Sariassian lad appeared from behind the coppers. He cautiously extended a hand.
"I hope I truly earned your trust." I shook it, smiling. Finding a giant cocoon, I threw it out the front doors. A net trap sprang from the entrance floorboards, ensnaring it. I began snacking on the nearest edible thing, which was a dried monkey's paw.
"I'm Barroco, foremost apothecary of the great city of Loranisburg, the Necromancer of Moor Street. And your name?" The Sariassian lad announced, embarrassed.
"Make one up for me."