Soulshocked | ONC 2021

The road to vengeance

"Probably just a bird or something," the first replied, and the two soldiers continued on their way.

Garranis eyed the mysterious God, waiting for a response of disapproval.

Kyzeldir returned to whistling with a spring in his step.

"You never told me you were a Master of Motion," the God of Death said. "Now it makes sense why you have such strange weapons. I should have known when you hit that deer from so far away. I thought maybe you just had a crazy arm," Kyzeldir laughed.

Garranis ignored the God's comments and kept on trudging forward.

"It's a very good thing, you know. You'll need it for what's to come."

"What is to come?" Garranis grunted.

"Well, it's all the more fun when it's a surprise," Kyzeldir's pearl teeth glistened in the sunlight. "Goodbye now, Garranis. I have some other things to attend to. I'll see you soon."

Garranis watched as the smiling God faded into nothing.

The warrior shook his head, eyes wide.

Everything had been so heavy lately, that he did not even question talking to this— spirit, or whatever it was, that claimed to be a God beyond this world. And he wasn't a religious man, but this was not how Garranis was taught Gods were supposed to act like.

Well...I might as well just be in your mind.

That's what this 'God' had said. Was that all there was to it?

Garranis banged his brain around in his burnt skull with violent shakes and continued on his way.

The town of Breslak was much larger and more developed then Garranis' village, but it was far uglier— at least when Garranis' village was still around, of course.

Garranis walked through the chipped wooden taverns and large, blocky houses. Men, women and children all shuffled by; the warrior had never seen streets so busy, and so filthy.

Garranis' exposed feet sloshed in the mud.

"Does anybody here know a Vyzethar?" He shouted.

The townspeople's clothes looked as ripped and flaky as Garranis' face. Yet, some stood apart from the rest of the town; the guards, identical to the two Garranis had seen travelling up the trail, and to the legion who had assisted in destroying his life.

"Does anybody know a Vyzethar?" He shouted again, waddling through the mud, receiving nothing but avoidance.

Garranis grunted in frustration, turning his head to glare as families dashed past.

"Vyzethar, anybody?"

"What are you doing?"

The question came from behind, and Garranis whipped around. There was a lanky man, little older then a teenager leaned up against a rickety wooden building.

"I'm looking for a man who calls himself Vyzethar, isn't it obvious?"

"Quiet down, there are guards here. Are you an idiot?" The thin man replied.

Garranis furrowed his eyebrows, but the other man didn't seem to care about causing offence. He grabbed the warrior, who was nearly twice his size, by the arm.

"Settle down, and follow me."

The skinny man yanked Garranis through the nearest doorway, slamming open the rickety wooden gate. Stepping inside, their feet creaked against the splintered boards.