LURE (Preview)

Chapter 3

Olran was at his regular post; on top of the wall guarding the slave camp. He was only an hour away from his break then, freedom. He sighed looking at the two other orcs next to him. They were holding large mugs of alcohol and laughing. "You know, our boss is hideous! Maybe we're just beautiful, but he is one ugly guy!" One of the orcs laughed. "Maybe he knows we'd be slacking off if he was beautiful.
We wouldn't be able to stop staring!" The other said. "You are slacking."  Olran replied, a tinge of  annoyance for his two drunk coworkers. "What? Now why would we do that?" One of them slurred, stumbling to his feet. He put a hand on Olrans shoulder, grinning in such a way that implied he was in a fighting mood. "You're the one slacking." He said, sleepily. He collapsed, his face slamming into the brick.
Olran crouched down to help his friend, dropping his crossbow. It fell off the wall, landing in a cluster of bushes. Olran saw something flying over the wall just as a loud horn was blared. Intruders, Olran thought. He quickly got to his feet, going for his crossbow then realizing he had dropped it off the wall. He swore under his breath, drawing his axe.
A figure wearing a black cloak dashed out of the woods and began scaling the wall. Olrans axe began to glow as he drew a rune in the sky. He shouted out a word in ancient draconic, Filbivnis meaning fire. His rune glowed as he screamed, "RUN!" then slammed his axe into the wall. A giant fire blast sent him flying off the wall. He turned his body and planted his feet onto a tree leaping off. Fire blasted from his feet as he jumped, lighting up the tree. He crashed into the man simultaneously knocking down the wall in a burst of flame. The man collapsed onto the ground. He leaped to his feet and drew a quarterstaff from his cloak. He drew his hood back revealing a shining bald head, red eyes and a serious expression. His staff spun in his hands. The wind began picking up, shaking the trees harder and harder as the staff spun faster and faster. Storm clouds began to close in fast. Thunder sounded as Olran swung his axem, summoning a giant firestorm. The hurricane that had formed around the man closed in around him encasing him entirely in smoke and fog. Lightning lit the storm as it parted. The man charged out lightning coming off of him. Olran charged, the firestorm following. The man swung his staff meeting Olran's chin. The full force of the storm struck Olran, sending him flying. The man swung his staff around, the powerful wind carrying Olran and sending him through the rest of the wall. Orleans firestorm blew into the man burning away the cloak and barely singing his skin.
He had on a slave uniform specifically for this region. But that was impossible. How could a slave be so powerful? The man rose off the ground, Black and gold wind lifting him. The black wind helped form a new cloak. He raised his arms, lifting up several slave tents. Chunks of the earth rose up and held the tents in place. The gold blew over the clods of dirt and the man lowered his arms. Olran saw runes glowing then disappearing on the bottom. Three other guards came charging out. One drew a spear and wrote a rune. He screamed "OVRECO!" and water particles solidified and came together to form a giant iceberg. It came crashing down shattering around him, melting and refreezing into tiny chunks then rising and forming ice creatures. Another drew a mace, slamming it into the dirt. A stone spike rose lifting him and crumbling, rising and floating around him. The last one disappeared entirely. Olran charged yelling to the spear wielder and mace wielder to give him a boost. Fire, ice and stone launched him at the man floating in the air. He swung his axe meeting the man's staff. Olran landed on a floating rock bombarding the slave with powerful attacks. The man swung his staff, blocking every attack with one of
his own. Olran dropped to the floor and kicked out the man's footing. He flipped through the air kicking off a tree and flying back at Olran forcing his foot into his face. Olran heard an audible crack as his nose shattered. He crumpled, screaming curled up on the rock. The man started beating Olran brutally. He was more than two feet shorter than olran but in  strength he was a mile ahead. Olran heard rocks stuttering against the shaft, felt his bones break under the force of the attack. He looked up, his vision blurry and saw one of the people who had come out to assist appear behind the man holding a knife to his throat. The man turned his staff and forced it through the man, impaling him. Olrans eyes rolled back into his head as he passed out.
    Olran awoke with a start and instantly felt the pain. He tried to lift his arm and felt restraints keeping him down. He tried to use his brute strength to break the ropes, failing. His head drooped as he realized it was useless. "So, you're the one protecting the slaves from freedom," Said a voice from the shadows. Olrans head shot up, his eyes searching the room. The man stepped out from a corner holding his staff. "You," Olran said, "you killed them! You killed my friends! You murdered EVERYONE!" Olran lunged at the man. The chair began to fall but the man caught it looking Olran in the eye. "Yes," The man said., his voice sickeningly cheerful, " But at least I left you alive! I'm Abraxas." Olran spat on Abraxas's foot. He glared up at the man and the man's smile grew thin. "These are my brand new shoes." He said with a waiver in his tone. "Don't you dare spit on them. You got that? Never. Again." His face returned to normal, or at least the most normal Olran had ever seen it. "Now," Abraxas said with no sign of the rage Olran had sensed earlier, "what should I do with you?"
    Berthan sat down in the dining room and grinned. He looked down at the plate already sitting on his table with joy. Berthan loved pancakes. A female dwarf opened the door to the large room and glared at berthan. In her arms was a young dwarf child, not more than 4 years old and holding a small bear cub. The child jumped out of the woman's arms and ran to Berthan, placing the bear on her head. The small cub got tangled in the girl's mess of curly brown hair, sneezing. The little girl squealed jumping into a giant, well actually rather small bear hug. "Daddy!" the girl yelled. Berthan hugged his daughter with all the affection in the world. "Daddy! Daddy! I killed something today! She squeaked. "Really?" Berthan said, "Really? What did you kill?" "I killed a butterfly!" She grinned showing two front teeth missing and pulled out a dead butterfly. It had holes and burn marks covering its pale blue wings. It looked like it had been tortured before it was crushed and ripped to shreds. Berthan felt a sense of pride grow in his chest. "That's not a butterfly!" Berthan said, an untruthful grin on his face. He took his finger and crushed a fly, killing it. He took a small chunk off the butter on his pancakes and lathered up the dead bug, showing it to his daughter. "This is a butter-fly!" He said. His daughter leaned back, glaring at him. "That's not a butterfly!" He pretended to be sad, a fake hurt look on his face. "Oh no! You caught me!" His daughter laughed in his arms. The woman cleared her throat loudly. "Berthan, I think we need to talk."  She picked up his daughter and set her in a large chair next to where Berthan sat. It was bigger than the woman so she had to jump to fit her in. She kissed the girl on the forehead before dropping back down to glare at Berthan. "You can't keep teaching our daughter to kill such little things!" She said both quietly and angrily. "But she likes the little things!" Berthan replied. "No. You need to teach her how to burn a village to the ground, not to step on a butterfly!" Berthan sighed. " Fine, we'll use one of the gnolls. I think I have a few locked in the torture chamber." He licked his fingers, swallowing the dead fly. His wife turned and climbed onto the tall chair. She sat down next to her daughter who was holding a knife and stabbing furiously at her pancakes. Berthan sighed, finished his breakfast and left.
    Berthan held his daughter's hand as they walked. Berthan was exhausted but his daughter was skipping and singing. "Killing gnolls we crush their skulls!" She giggled as she sang, her little bear biting her hand. Berthan looked down a long hallway and saw three dwarves trying to wrestle a bear down to the floor. It saw Berthan, its eyes lighting up. THe bear jumped to its feet sending the three dwarves into the ceiling. It charged over to Berthan licking his face with a giant wet tongue. A gnolls decapitated head flew out from between its teeth but the bear caught it in his massive jaw. The three dwarves ran over to keep the bear from wandering but Berthan just shooed them off. "It's alright. I'll take him. THe bear roared in agreement and berthan patted him on the nose. "Now," Berthan said, "let's get things started, right?" He opened a door to the left and saw a giant stairwell going in a large downward spiral. Cells aligned the walls, all of them full of gnolls, both dead and alive. Burnt skeletons were all that could be found in some cages whilst others were full of bleeding faces, pleading and howling. Dwarves wearing dark robes would open the doors using red hot pitchforks to beat the gnolls, burning and scarring their faces even further.. After they were done they would scoop up the bones of the dead gnolls, and throw them into a giant pile of burnt bones at the bottom of the stairwell. Berthan grinned devilishly at his daughter. "This is going to be fun!"