Ember Wind: Corrupted

The Jarl's Throne

Tangurple could not see. His vision was blurred and obscured by unbalanced light. His head racked with pain. He felt himself being dragged somewhere by some unseeable force. His armor clanked against the stone floor making his headache hurt even more. Then the dragging stopped and he was thrown a few feet forward. He was reluctant to stand or move at all. He laid motionless on the floor. Tangurple heard faint voices around him but the ringing in his ears was even louder and dulled their speech to mumbles.

It was a few minutes before Tangurple could function normally again and when he did, he started looking around. His vision cleared just as the ringing stopped and the sense of touch became normal. Tangurple felt his hands bound behind him and his sword missing from his waist. He pushed himself up onto his knees and looked up.

Standing in front of him was a pale man whose face was marred by crimson cracks around the eyes. He wore a very fancy suit: cowhide boots, inflated mud-toned breeches, dark blue shirt, a leather brown overcoat unbuttoned and several necklaces and rings. He smiled and chuckled maniacally. He about-faced and took a joyous seat on a large stone throne decorated in blood rubies.

Tangurple tried to wiggle his hands-free but the game's prison binds were too strong. The prison binds are an in-game item owned solely by city or town guardsmen. When a player has committed a crime and surrenders to a town or city guardsman and cannot afford the fines, they are bound by an unbreakable cast iron set of handcuffs until they are locked into a jail cell or set free by another player.

The man watched Tangurple struggle with a wide and almost demonic grin. When he spoke, his voice was growly and hellish which only solidified Tangurple's original thought of him. "It is so good to see you again, Catholic."

"Judas Iscariot, I presume," Tangurple replied.

"Right you are. You know, out of all the brilliant minds in this world, you are the only one who decided to write it all down."

"Is that why you seem to follow me?"

"Follow you? Please, you flatter me. The writings of a fallen Catholic are amusing but hardly worth admiration. Thanks to you, I have leverage."

Tangurple ground his teeth. "Leverage? How so?"

"Well, now I know who runs the show out there. I know who the heads are of the biggest guilds are and just how much influence they have or rather, she has."

"She? What makes you think you can manipulate a player?"

"It's simple. You proved my theory when you pushed that door open. This world is my sandbox and now that I have a source of information, I know who to target and just how to break them." Judas cackled and summoned Night. She floated lifelessly beside him. "This little girl was my experiment and she proved quite useful. Turning her was by far the most genius idea I've had in a long while."

Tangurple growled and shifted from his place on the floor. "You bastard! I will fillet you when I get free of these cuffs. Hell, let's do it now! Free me and we can duel. Right here, right now."

"Tsk, tsk," Judas took a step forward and knelt down in front of Tangurple mockingly. "You think you're the brave hero, the savior of humanity? Tough love kid, things will never go your way."

"Then I will take you down to hell with me, even if it is the last thing I do. We gingers know a way of making others suffer. I am a demon and I feast upon the souls of the dead or living. You are included in that hit list."

"A Catholic claiming to be a demon? How childish." Judas pushed Tangurple's face into the floor and walked back to his throne, taking a seat. "I never knew you were so messed up. Perhaps I can worsen it. The crazier the foe, the more entertaining it is to fight them."