A Skull Full of Souls

Voracity is confused, scared, and lost. It hadn’t even known it could survive being removed from the rest of Julius. As it is, it can tell that many things are wrong with it. It is a gem, has no limbs, and it is just so hungry. The cold gauntlet that holds Voracity seems impervious to everything. So Voracity screams, releasing a desperate call for help while also releasing a psychic scream meant to melt the feeble minds of the food who dare to capture an eater. All the while, the damaged connections to Julius burn. If Voracity has to describe it. It is like having starvation pangs in a phantom stomach, surrounded by the weeping wound from its removal. They did not like it. Even as the metal and leather hand sets them down, Voracity screams again. It’s no use. They can tell that they’ve been suppressed once again. Only this time, it’s even worse. Voracity can’t move, and the glimmers of nearby minds have vanished. The perceivable universe has shrunk to a cylinder the size of a dinner plate. Voracity has no eyes, no ears, and no sensory organs of any kind, save for their psychic senses. There is no way to track time. Voracity panics. Then suddenly, the head of that evil snack Alain enters Voracity’s world and collides with their gem with enough force to gut-punch their soul. Instantly, as the sharp edges of Voracity’s gem touches the blood of Alain, Voracity knows that something is different. Long-thwarted instincts flare, and they lash themself to Alain’s skull with psionic tendrils. It can taste his mind. Voracity begins to feed for the first time. It is delicious. Memories, thoughts, and so much more flood Voracity, and for the first time, the hunger begins to quiet.

Rick sighs, eying the roused constructs. He’s fairly certain he can take them on in a fair fight. But a five-on-one cage match with an incapacitated ally underfoot is a tricky one. He edges back to the door, hoping to draw them out of the cage. But each of the golem soldiers’ shoulders emits a red glow from inlaid gems, and a new red flickering circle stops Rick from leaving the cell. “Rude.”

He shrugs and readies his blade. His first strike is against the new red barrier. It flares hotly, and the shoulder gems flare with it. Rick takes the last second of his time to check if the glow seems weaker. It’s hard to tell, but he thinks those gems may just be a hair dimmer. Rick grins under his helmet. “Let’s dance!” Two nightmares and one golem swing at him as he vanishes in a puff of mist and appears on the far side of the cage. The three strikes meant for him instead strike the ward, and this time he can tell, the gems have definitely dimmed slightly. Millennia of experience fighting gives him the estimate that breaking that ward would take around a hundred strikes. Too many. It’d be safer just to kill them. He zips across the room and slashes at the glowing gem on the shoulder of the first golem. The sword bites in, cracking the gem and releasing a puff of mana. The golem is largely uninjured. Worse still, it drops its shield and simply grabs the blade lodged in its shoulder. Rick tries to pull his sword free, but only drags the heavy construct a few inches. He curses and flicks the sigil on the hilt. His blade vanishes and he flies backwards as his now unresisted pull launches him away. It’s just in time, as a mace and two swords strike sparks off each other as they pass through the space he’d just vacated.

Rick growls as he continues to dodge. He can’t resummon his blade for a bit, so he pulls open his bag as he dives onto the floor. Without wasting even half of a second, he grips a large metal ring inside his spacial pouch, dropping the pouch to the ground before leaping as hard and as high as he could. A couple of swooshes go over his head as the two nightmares try to predict his trajectory and overshoot due to the massive drag of the war hammer attached to the ring he’s drawing from his pouch. The mace-wielding golems instead strike the head of the hammer. The solid metal monstrosity is largely unmarred by the impacts, but the force launches the hammer’s head away like a tethered ball. Spinning Rick as if he were the anchor the tether is attached to. Instead of resisting the forced rotation, he adds all of his considerable strength to increase the rotational momentum. His wings flap with such strength that whirlwinds of air spin away with whooshing, cracking noises. His supernatural attributes allow him to anchor himself and the hammer blurs. It spins once, then twice, barely missing bars and enemies alike, and has accelerated to a terrifying degree. Then on the third turn, Rick roars, pushing it to go harder and faster as he brings it down onto one of the soldier golems. The core support of the golem crumples inward on itself as the arms, legs, and other loosely attached parts eject themselves from the body with explosive force. These shrapnel pieces of golem launch in every direction, striking the other constructs and knocking them back. Only Julius is largely spared by being behind one of the Nightmares.

Rick’s helmet is hit by debris and blasts away. His green hair is plastered to his head. He smirks as pale green blood trickles from his forehead, down across the puckered scar running along his cheek. His black pupils are ringed by milky white irises. His hammer is strange, the handle is nearly impossible to wield normally. It’s covered in sturdy rings large enough to be gripped in both of Rick’s hands. His smile widens into a bloodthirsty grin as his pupils contract. Suddenly, he throws the massive hammer upward in a lazy spin. He leaps after it and grabs a ring towards the center. He begins spinning the hammer again as the constructs recover. Then, they charge, swinging their weapons at him.

Rick cackles. This is it. This is how you feel alive! All other pleasures become boring after millennia. But real fights, now those are always fun. He stops anchoring the spin of the hammer, allowing it to jerk him past the strikes and letting the head of his weapon pass one of the Nightmare Helms. His wings flare, stopping him from passing by as well. Instead, he lets a few rings pass through his grip before he tightens his grip again and plants his feet on the chest of the animate armor. He then reverses the momentum of the hammer and sends it back toward the chest of the remaining golem, dragging him with it. Both the Nightmare Helm and the hammered golem catapult away. The Helm trips over the examination table, scattering Julius’ remaining bones on the floor before tumbling over the table and striking the far wall. The golem is launched directly towards the exit. The final red gem flares brightly before coming into contact with the ward itself. The power source coming directly into contact with the ward causes the magic to short out. Flaring brightly before shattering the gem in a small explosion.

Well, this fight looks like it’s wrapping up. Rick flares his shiny blue and black wings as he lands on the gorget of the fallen Nightmare Helm, struggling to rise. Rick leans down to grab the neck of the chest plate. Intending to throw the Helm at its fellow constructs when the last standing, enemy’s sword slices into his chest like a scythe cutting wheat. The strength and velocity of the strike certainly look like a fatal blow. Looking like Rick should be cut in half. That isn’t what happens. Instead, as the armor parts and the blade bites into Rick’s flesh, it only penetrates so far before it stops. Instead of bisecting Rick, it takes him off his feet and sends him through the bars of the cage. A splatter of green blood trails after him as he rockets off the blade and crashes through a chair with a crunching crackle of impact. Even then, to the eyes of the three guards who had just rushed into the room, the impact sure looked fatal. So it was very surprising to see a battered and bloody Rick crawl out of the rubble, rubbing his head and barely bleeding. “Strewth that hurt.” Rick says. His chest plate and part of his pauldron have been sliced open. The edges now push into the shallow wound the sword left.

“How is he alive?” Asks one paladin, his shield rattles as he fails to suppress his fearful trembling.

Rick chuckles, eying the constructs that are attempting to navigate out of the cage without stepping on the scattered bones of Julius. “It’s simple, bloke. I’m a category twenty adventurer. At this point, my body’s so stuffed with magical strength and vitality that you’d have an easier time cutting these stones than me.”

The three soldiers look at each other for a moment. They aren’t weak. The two knights are category eitght and the paladin is category ten. But they know, they aren’t a match for the tiny monster in front of them. They exchange nods, take deep breaths, and tighten their grips on their swords. Behind Rick, the first Helm closes and attempts to bring its sword down on his form. Rick flies backward, inside its reach, catching the sword hilt and yanking it away from the armor. The soldiers turn as one and flee. “ATTACK! RAID! ALARM! The guild has sent max category adventurers!” They cry, raising the alarm and sending the entire cathedral into frantic awareness.

Rick clicks his tongue in frustration as he smashes apart the nightmare helm with three lightning slashes. He flies to the last of the constructs. Another two cuts and the room is quiet, barring the bubbling gurgles of the gnome as he drowns in his own blood. Rick frowns and casts a spell. “Hey, bossman. Looks like I had to attack, blame the bird. She went berserk and charged right in. Also, Jules was about to die. I’ve got him, so do you mind catching the rats?” Each word escapes his mouth in a puff of light. Collecting into a cloud of glimmering magic until he finishes and waves his hand. The cloud of lights flies away at a speed so fast that it looks like a ribbon of light. Rick smirks at the imagined scream of frustration escaping from Moranth’s mouth right about now. His smirk vanishes into a scowl as he looks at his unmoving friend. Alain makes one last choking rattle before falling limp. Carrie-Anne scraws in displeasure at her confines, and she tries once again to reach the dead gnome. Rick has no idea how to help Julius, so he flies over to Carrie, mars the circle trapping her, and follows as she flies headfirst into the circle holding the dead gnome’s head. She screeches and flaps against the invisible wall like a moth hitting a lantern. This one is a higher quality and he removes a glowing keystone. Immediately, the body falls to the floor, as the gem is no longer anchored inside the circle. When Alain’s head strikes the ground, the attached gem rolls away. It broadcasts the mental sensation of a comfortably overstuffed belly.

Without hesitation, Carrie swoops down and scoops the glowing gem in her claws. She releases a joyous and triumphant shriek at sensing the partial presence of Julius. Her shriek ends in a worried warble as she realizes something is very wrong. Even as the Voracity projects overjoyed relief at her presence, it also projects agonized exhaustion. She feels Voracities’ strong desire to return to Julius’ body and become whole once again. She feels Voracity focus on the caged corner and flies straight for it. Ignoring the shouts of Danger Bug and the evil men in the hall, she lands on the skull and grabs the gem with her beak. Cooing softly, she gently inserts the gem into Julius’ eye socket. The moment the gem contacts the bone, Julius shudders and releases an entirely unnecessary gasp. Stuttering, weak, blue muscles form as Julius twitches. His jaw opens and he starts weeping. Three stuttering, dim astral eyes form in front of his sockets. The left is feminine with fine features the right is masculine, and the middle is alien, with two pupils shoved together to make a shape somewhere between a dumbbell and an hourglass. All three contort with constantly shifting expressions of pain, despair, exhaustion, joy, and relief. The moods shift so rapidly that they begin blurring and melding. Each eye drips astral tears. And Julius begins to sob-babble weakly with three different voices, all incoherently speaking snatches of joy, relief, appreciation, vows of vengeance, and requests for help.

Carrie Anne is only slightly better off. Cawing in joy, cheeping with need, and emitting small worried warbles, she nuzzles her head against his. She’s pressing against him so hard that his skull rocks back and forth. Both are heedless of anything outside the two of them.

Rick rolls his eyes at the two children. He decides that an adult needs to take charge again, and once again laments ever being responsible. It’s exhausting, he much prefers letting the others do the work. Still, while the constructs are down, Every combat capable member of the church is flowing toward them. He pulls out a small spell scroll and focuses. The doorway shimmers with golden translucent light, and he sighs with relief. Spell casting has never been easy. But he still spent two years learning how to activate magical items. Apart from the natural magics being fey grants him, he’s been unable to learn any other spells. He chuckles and waves as several archers and priests attack the barrier. There are a few flashes and flickers, but it’ll take an hour to take this ward down that way. He chuckles again as a few beefier warriors come forward to strike at the shield. They do about the same as the ranged attackers. Rick adjusts his codpiece and yawns, then yelps as his barrier disappears in a flash of red light. “Ah get rooted you rotten cunt!” He shouts at the mage, whose hands still glow red with the fading dispel magic. He grabs the gorget of the closest attacker and uses him as a projectile to tumble the close-packed fighters behind like a game of pins. He grimaces and pulls a floating box out of his pack. Rack off, you scungy clapper! Dispel this! He mumbles a word and the box unfolds in a blur. The corridor is suddenly full of boat. Rick winces as he hears the masts and parts of the hull crunch and crackle. But he doubts that they’ll be able to break through seven and a half meters of boat anytime soon. Even if they burn it, that’ll just choke them and make it hard to see. He sighs and wipes his hands on his armor. “Right then, those sprogs have Buckley’s chance at breaking through that mess before the Clankers finish the raid.”

He flies back, gathering scattered bits of Jules’ bones in various states of deconstruction. His expression is grim as he carries the bones back to Julius. “Legs are rooted mate, arm too probbo. Sorry.”

Julius has finally quieted. But he grins at Rick. “Fuck my legsh right now, and fuck apologishing. Thanks for shaving me.”

Rick smirks and scoffs. “I’ll have you know, mate, I didn’t touch a hair on your head. Must have been your captors that gave your noggin a polish.”

Julius blinks, then chuckles. “Shure, make fun of my lishp while telling me I’m crippled. Way to–how did you shay it? ‘Put the boot in’ while I’m down.”

“Hey–hey mate, you know the rules. If you force me to save your bony arse, I get to be an arsehole about it.”

From the blocked door, they hear muffled but repeated slamming crunches. Rick glances at the boat and grunts. “Look mate, we got backup coming but, well let’s just say I was forced to act early when we saw your situation.”

Julius blinks tiredly. “I’m painfully tired, Rick. Jusht asshume I’m kind of an idiot right now and shpell it out.”

He nods. “I don’t know if my barricade will hold long enough. I may need to fight my way out, and I can’t do it while you're crawling on the floor. I need to put you in that box.”

Julius’ reaction is as violent as it is instant. “Fuck that! Never again!” He shrieks, flinching away so forcefully that his torso slips and starts falling off the table. Even as Carrie releases an angry hiss.

Rick catches Julius and props him back up. “I can’t see any other way to carry you. I’m smaller than your rib cage.”

Julius shakes his head violently. “No, no. You jusht don’t undershtand I can’t, I jusht can’t. There’sh no time in there, no shound, no anything. With what I’ve been through, going through that right now will break my mind. I can’t. I’ll be terrified that every shift of gravity and paushe of shtilnessh will be me getting recaptured, and I will loshe my mind. I jusht can’t handle any more trauma.” Translucent muscles flicker as they form over Julius and quiver as he shakes in terror. Rick stares in dismay as Julius forms translucent lungs and begins panting in breathless fear.

Rick is flabbergasted. He can tell that Julius has no idea that he’s magically replicating the fleshy functions of a fear response. He responds with the only thing he can think with. The same response he’d give someone having a panic attack. “Breathe, mate, Just breathe.”

Julius hiccups as he pauses for a second and glare’s at Rick for his bullshit. “Shtop being an assh right now. I’m not in the mood.

“Mate, I’m dead serious. Look down. You’re so upset that you’ve actually constructed a fear response from instinct. Your mind’s already there, so use it. Breathe, inhale in, clenching your muscles, hold gently, then relax everything and exhale. It’ll help.”

Julius does, He takes deep shuddering breaths, reveling in such a detailed creation that had seemed to effortlessly form. And it does help. Not because of chemicals and neurons, but because he’s never used his aetherflesh so accurately. He can feel the air fill his lungs. The oxygen mix into his ghostly blood and pump through his translucent racing heart. As the discoveries distract him, the organs begin to dissipate. As his mind is no longer able to maintain such a perfect replication. He grunts with displeasure and tries to maintain it manually. But the construct is so fine and detailed that it continues to degrade everywhere he isn’t focused.

Rick hums thoughtfully. “So the probbo is that the box is too quiet?”

Julius nods, still trying to replicate his lungs.

“Well first, I doubt I could get Carrie to leave you be anyway, so you’ll have company. As for a lack of time. I have a pocket watch I picked up from the Temple of Grand last time I was there.”

Julius hesitates. But in the end, he’s just too tired to resist or find another way. He nods. “But you better get me out the moment you can. And hurry.”

Rick kicks the chest open and salutes. “Nah worries bloke, I've gotcha. Now in the box you go.”