Stranger Implements

Clan Andinocta, known to all as the White Light of the Eisangrund range, is a safe haven carved against the rock of the black-slate mountains. Between the crags and beyond the great stone chasms, the grandeur of Caðnine society glistens high above where the water flows. Amidst the snow, as it cascades upon the shingled roofs of the many lodgings of a proud and fearsome people, a great darkness has risen. The "Undrakki", or undead in the common tongues, have risen from their millennia of sleep. Their minds are wrought with the vengeance felt by them in their last moments, now reduced only to thoughtless beasts. Their lust for blood and unquenchable anger has taken many lives. For fifteen years, this treacherous incursion has afflicted the wilder people. Massacres and great pestilences, which have claimed many villages and hamlets winding up from the wooded valleys and across the roaring rivers; this affliction continues with no relent.

***

The Captain continued along the muddied road, tracks left behind from the wagon trains still fresh, like scars against the soggy floor. We followed him, clad in armor and wielding all manner of weapons, into the foggy morning. The sting of frosty air continued to bite at my skin as frozen droplets slowly began to form along the fur of my ears and face. A few moments passed before the Captain raised his snout to the air and stopped. He turned to us and growled, a warning to the rest of us that something, not of our own ilk, was shuffling just beyond the foliage beyond the road. We remained cautious, staring in every direction to see if something unnatural did dwell beyond the thicket.

Just as the Captain suspected, the distant sound of rustling leaves could be heard adjacent to us. He drew his dagger from the rear of his belt and began to slowly make his way into the shrubbery. He disappeared into the fog, the rustling of branches rang out as he slowly crept onward. A few moments passed, and the frightening roars of an accursed creature filled the air. The rest of us charged forward, I drew my saber from its scabbard and huffed as I continued, the frigid air creating great clouds as I marched onwards. Then, we saw dozens of the forsaken things. Their eyes sunken and glowing a sickly yellow, as if contained within them was the liquid form of the very pestilence that gave them the ability to live as crude husks. It was a mockery to true life, these things that ceaselessly thirst for our blood.

One of them, a brutish figure, had with him a bundle of limbs, from which he chewed and ate as if for sustenance. Our rage had been rapidly implored at the sight. We snarled and barked, drool fell away from my lips as I felt my ears become pinned to the rear. Three others and I aided our Captain in slaying the monstrosity that ate the flesh of our kin. Whilst the battle ensued, the clanging of steel, the clattering of our armor, and the splitting of our shields filled the woodland sky. I slashed at the fiend with my saber, the fury of my people festering within every reckless slash and chop. Despite this, and the blades of four others, the monstrous creature did not yield. His flesh was rotted and black, from his wounds came forth no blood, and even to the removal of one of his arms, no cry of pain came from him.

The Captain roared, "Sons of Andinocta, to me! Rally to me! The smaller of our foe do fall to iron, but this one is of that kind which may only be again made to slumber! He cannot feel true death!"

I turned to him and shouted, "I dare not jest to say, Captain. I have never fought the deathless ones! What can be done of them if a blade cannot vanquish?"

"Worry not! These are merely those abominations, as accursed as they may be, which our people must fight and fight again!"

The whole band was now upon this single foe. Every strike from a blade or slash from an axe did little, except to anger it. That was when the monstrous creature opened its mouth. Out from its throat came a horrid tongue, like a black whip soaked in the bile of the marsh, it swung forward. It wrapped around the wrist of one of our warriors and took his spear from him. Then, with incredible might, it raised the tongue and threw from its grasp the warrior still bound the wrist. He flew far above us before crashing against the bark of a great pine. The forsaken creature continued to wrap the tendril onto the limbs of us and throw us far away from itself. It was not long before it tangled itself around my ankle, raised me so that I was dangling with my head towards the ground, and then it hurled me afar. I twirled in the air before crashing into the muddied ground with a deafening resound.

I winced as I pressed my hand against the ground to raise myself and make ready for another attack. Unfortunately, as I did so, I found myself breathless as an incredible pain rose from my hand. I removed my gauntlet to see that my sword hand had been cracked at the wrist. Anger swelled in my mind as I looked on to see the abomination continued to thrash about, tossing many others against trees or slamming them onto the ground. The Captain had been flung several paces behind me. I heard his armor clatter as he walked, and as I turned, I could see that he did so with a limp.

I inquired, “Captain, are you wounded?”

"No. The deathless fiend only tossed me in a way that I twisted my ankle. Do not fret, the fury of the Caðnine cannot know defeat! The den raises the men like wolves, and the pack knows, no foe can remove the fangs of us from their flesh. So continue this fight, our people depend on it, by the weeping of the Saints!"

It was at this point that the entire band had been thrown some distance away from the beast. It howled and gurgled nightmarishly as it finally began to bleed. Black oily liquid, viscous and slow to fall, came from the deepest of its many wounds. Just as we rallied again, this time in a close formation, to again take on the beast, something happened. The creature began to shiver, as if it had only now become vulnerable to the icy winds. This was not the case, as from its back, covered in black abscesses and scars from a fire, erupted a single spiked bone. The sound of flesh and sinew being forcibly torn from itself caused me to shudder. The wicked screams that came from the crooked maw of the thing became shrill and anguished. A great wound was forming across the entire length of the deathless creature's back, and from it, more and more spiked bones erupted. Finally, after many seconds of a most disturbing display agony, four great limbs of bone and rotted flesh flew up from the walking cadaver.

The monstrosity was now, more than it was before, malformed and covered with strands of flayed skin. The four frightening limbs were like those of a winged creature, however, without the membrane of the wing. The twisting and pulsating growths of muscle that grew across it stopped at the ends, where the spiked bones, like claws, were now raised. It charged forwards, roaring and panting furiously as it did. As it crashed against the shield bearers at the front, it nearly managed to knock over the whole band. Luckily, we had braced just in time and began our assault anew. We slashed at its body with spears, axes, swords, and maces. The deathless fiend responded too with its tongue and four new appendages. In the short time that we had again begun to fight, the sharp bones managed to strike and wound even the strongest and most well armored of our warriors.

I felt an intolerable sting rise from my foot. The creature had managed to find that my feet were not armored and thrust, piercing through the whole of my sandals. I roared and fell backwards as the massive claw retracted, taking with it some of my fur and skin. In a vain attempt, I tried to regain my stance, only to again topple over and crash into the wet and cold floor of the woods. I threw down my saber and could see that the wound through my foot allowed the light of the morning sun to pass through it. I snarled and slammed my fist into the ground, seeing that many others had also been grievously wounded by the un-killable mutant which plagued my people's lands.

“Is this war not ours to win!?” I shouted, “Oh how great the affliction upon my people, that this abominable killer, so great a curse, cannot even by one-hundred wounds be cast out!"

Before long, the Captain was the only one who could still stand to fight the defiled creature. He hurled his two-handed blade off from his shoulder and into the creature time and time again. Every assault carried with it the famed rage of the Andinocta Caðnine.

He cried, “For those slain by your wicked hand!”

The subsequent attack found purchase on one of the spiked limbs that came from the creature's back. The blade struck true and the limb was cleaved, black sludge fell from where the wound had been made. Unfortunately, the creature would not allow for the wrath of the Captain to persist and prevail. It rose from its crouched stance, revealing its true height to be nearly that of a bear. It then slammed the remaining three of the spiked limbs into the chest armor of the Captain, splitting lamellar and mail apart as it did so. The Captain was only able to just move in such a way that the thunderous blows would not meet his flesh at the last moment.

Still, I heard the Captain unleash an anguished growl before falling face down into the mud. I knew that if no one could come to his aid, the monstrosity would plunge its terrifying claws into the back of our Captain and slay him. I attempted to rise again to fight the beast, but the pain that came from my foot and hand proved to be far more than I could hope to bear. I fell again onto my side.

Just as I believed that the Captain would surely meet his end, a figure emerged from the fog of the woods. Clad in steel and adorned with a surcoat of blue and yellow, he wielded in one hand a pistol and in the other a leather-bound satchel. As he stomped across the dampened ground, his armor rattled with each step. I could see through the raised visor of his helm that this was no Caðnine.

All of the wounded warriors that surrounded him, still clutching their weapons and their wounds, began muttering amongst themselves.

“A Mornine?” came the inquiry of one warrior.

“Cease, man-thing! Do you not know that this is a creature that cannot know death?!” said another.

The Mornine seemed entirely unfazed by the comments as he beheld the bloody tapestry of our struggle. He could then see our Captain, holding above himself a great-shield as he lay upon the ground. The abomination continued to slam its jagged spikes into the shield, tearing away splinters as if to dig through it, in the hopes to kill the Captain.

I turned to the Mornine and said, “See how we have already been defeated? You have only come, just as we and our Captain have, to die a senseless death.”

The man-thing, his visor still raised, turned to me and said, “Caðnine, I could hear from as far as the winding road the glorious clamor of courageous battle. Where is your wolf-like fury, which I have heard so much about from beyond the Eisangrund realm? Why, in all your pride, do you dare to succumb to demoralization? Your bodies may be broken, but never let the same become of your spirits!”

The Mornine then turned and leveled his pistol towards the abomination. A great thunder erupted, followed by a blinding flash. I could see a geyser of black oil rise up from the shoulder of the rotting beast. It howled and began to shudder, moving its attention away from our Captain and towards the stranger.

The man-thing then slammed shut the visor of his helmet and cried, “You will know the wrath of a pure hand! Behold, sons of Andinocta! The power of fire!”

The Mornine then took two strange black spheres from his leather pouch. They were made of iron and had, pouring out from their ends, like water from a gargoyle spout, a thin braid of string. Using flint and steel fitted to his fingers as rings, the man-thing snapped and brought forth sparks to ignite the strings. I became increasingly fearful as the deformed fiend had now begun its charge. It snarled and roared, slamming every one of its limbs into the ground and ripping up clumps of mud. It was like an enraged ox, leaving behind deep impressions in the moistened dirt from where its limbs had struck. The Mornine paid no mind to this and casually tossed the two black spheres, which now emitted much smoke from their ends.

I shouted in fright, “MAN-THING! I PLEAD THAT YOU RUN LEST YOU BE IMPALED!”

The Mornine did no such thing, preferring instead to stand his ground, as if on our behalf, when we could not. Then I heard two great torrents of thunder erupt from the black spheres, which spewed forth great plumes of flame, smoke, and dirt. The great undead suffered the brunt of these device's otherworldly might, many sections of its body, including the spiked limbs, were thrown from it and sent in many directions. We looked in awe, as with seemingly no effort, the man-thing had split the beast in twain. The partially intact torso, where the unscathed head of the beast still stood, continuing to snap its teeth and flail its tongue. The Mornine then took a small glass vial from his satchel, containing a clear liquid. He unlatched and doused the grand mace of his from his belt with the liquid before approaching the still writhing undead.

He said, “By way of holy purification, I proclaim these woods cleansed, and return it, as it were, to its people. I cast you out, you vile and crude mockery of the true living!”

The Mornine then raised his grand mace, the creature's tongue wrapping across his waist as he did so. Then, with great speed and force, which I had never seen before, the man-thing was able to bring the head of the grand mace down onto the skull of the creature. Without another sound, the massive undead fell limp as a great cavity had now been made where its face had once been, all before it could constrict its whip-like tongue. The entire band, including those of us who were wounded, stared in confounded silence. The Captain threw down his shield and rose to meet the Mornine. It was only then that we could see that the steel-clad man-thing’s true height was only equal to that of the Captain’s shoulders.

He asked, “How can it be, when the strongest and most virile of my warriors cannot hope to prevail, you and your implements lay the abominable and deathless to rest? Tell me, hairless one.”

The Mornine replied, “I am a legionary enginer. Those who are considered more peculiar, for the sense of curiosity within us, have such a peculiar desire to find solutions, both in and outside of nature. While I would not wish anyone to use them as I have, gunpowder explosives has served me well. Now, let's burn the creatures so they may never rise again.”

***

As those of us who were not wounded reduced the corpses of the slain undead to ash, the Mornine tended to our wounds. He showed us all of the strange implements and trinkets he had taken with him on his journey to the Eisangrund range. He had learned of our undead incursions and sought to aid us in our struggle, telling us how his masters had taken the deathless creatures and studied them in “laboratories”. With their research, they were able to deduce that immolation, as well as other alchemical concoctions formulated by the Church, were the only proven ways to truly lay them to rest. I could not ponder for too long the lengths that the Mornine would go to uncover the secrets of the natural and supernatural. Through scientific means only reserved for those I perceived as mad, the man-thing explained to me that, in our time, there is far too much at stake to not take such risks.

That not everything may be solved as we wish they would be, and that some problems require immense hours of consideration, investigation, and simulation. Whether through chemicals or potions, the sorcerer's incantations, or warding prayers of the ascetic, the Mornine said his kind believes everything supplies for them an avenue towards greater understanding. That even the most unnerving and seemingly unfathomable events have for themselves their own array of causes. And with every caused thing, there exists for it also an array of solutions. And that only those who dared to seek answers would find them.

The man-thing continued, saying, “It is of intrinsic value then for us to go unto the farthest realms or most expansive libraries to satisfy our perpetual search for truth; and to share with all others that which we discover. This is the way of the explorer, the most studied clerics, and the most proven strategic advisors. It is why I can take with me gunpowder to slay the fiend, holy water to purify its remains, and myrrh to cleanse your wounds."

I observed him as he worked, pressing a cloth, soaked in a red concoction into the great injury upon my foot. I would then recoil as he started to suture the wound.

“Is this how all Mornine are- OW!”

“No, but those of us that are serve those who are not. What discovery we make to benefit one of us, we will implement it to benefit all the rest. That is why I’m here. Curiosity, even if it is to be perceived by others as lunacy, is how we have achieved so much in the first place.”

“Can I tell you some- AH- something man-thing?”

“What would it be, Volpenvolk?”

“Remind me, for the sake of clan Andinocta and all Caðnine kind, to never suffer to become the adversary of the Mornine.”