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A Treasure Buried In Ancient Ruins
Axl lounged on the throne, one hand slowly twirling a bone handled knife in circles and the other resting on the armrest. His eyes were closed and head was down, rugged clothing covering the rest of his body. The air was dark and musty, with the distinct smell of mold wafting through. There was no breeze, yet with every breath he took the air seemed to swirl, startled by his presence.
A trembling man kneeled before him, head bowed, hands splayed against the ground. "Axl, please. I couldn't find the coin, and-"
"Silence." The low, gravelly voice rang out in the small space. Slowly, the man on the throne lifted his head, revealing eyes black as his soul, his skin so ghostly the bones showed pale. "You make excuses." Those three words had the other cowering lower with a whimper. Axl slowly stood, his boots somehow silent against the stone as he stepped forward, grabbing the man's chin roughly and tilting it up so they stared at him. "You think I'm going to kill you?" He murmured, then dropped the knife. Relief crossed the man's face for a split second before Axl snapped his neck, and they went limp.
He sighed in an aggrieved manner, stooping down to pick his weapon back up and sheath it. Yet again, another person failed miserably. Now, disappointment marring his expression, he started out. The pendant was calling to him. He just needed to find it.
Days later, he had walked, without eating, without drinking, through 23 cities in the Kraven country. Multiple deaths lie in his wake that no one pinned on him. The pendant still called, singing woefully throughout the night. As each day passed, everything grew less appealing. The sun was not warm on his skin anymore, any food turned to gravel in his mouth. He trekked on, needing, hoping, endlessly praying for the pendant to come to him.
It was in the city of Havka that he stopped, the pull in his chest so strong he felt like he needed to rip his own heart out. He could almost hear the keening wails. Somewhere, the medallion lay, and he needed it now. His onyx eyes slowly scanned the area, the small town, really, as he thought. It seemed people were gathering in what he assumed was the town square, so he headed that way, head bowed.
When he arrived, Axl found out that the reason for this was cage fighting. Pay to play, bigger gains coming out. The tug on his chest was strong here, and he could use a little break, so he ambled up to the table, placing three braekars down, the Kraven equivalent of a 5 dollar bill. "Get me a fight." He mused lowly, keeping his head down and hood up. He had broad shoulders and a tall stature, so he was hard to miss, but yet people didn't seem to spare him a second glance.
The man peered at him for a moment before shrugging and accepting the money. "Name." He drawled, ready to jot it down in a slot.
"Axl." He grunted, not caring if he gave his real name or not. No one knew him by that name anyway. The man merely nodded and gestured to the cage. "You're up next."
Axl shrugged off his jacket and set it down, the tight t-shirt he had on revealing smooth, well muscled lines, lithe yet strong. His arm were covered in ink, and yet the bones still showed, ghostly and pale. He stepped into the cage, flexing his fingers. Another fighter stood in there, smaller than him, yet looking fast. It didn't matter. When the bell rang, he slowly walked around them. He could almost smell the medallion, and there was a good reason. Gold glinted on the other person's chest, alerting him that indeed... there it was. "If I win... give me the medallion. If I lose, I'll give you whatever you want." He murmured, not looking up yet.
The other man tilted his head, looking confused, but it was too good of an opportunity to miss. "You're on, weirdo." He snickered, lunging.
Axl stepped to the side in a second, grabbing the back of their neck and slamming their face into the ground. It was with ease that he wrenched their arm backwards. A sickening crack floated through the air, music to his ears. A scream quickly followed it when he lifted them up by their shirt with inhuman strength and slammed them back down. In less than a minute, the fight was over, the other man unconscious. The design of the floor was well made, as the blood that ran in rivulets down the stones went to the middle and disappeared into a drain.
He bent down and pulled the pendant off, stalking back out and picking up his coat. His hood had fallen off, revealing the black eyes and skull showing through the skin. Evil didn't even begin to describe the way he looked. The quiet gasps and whimpers he heard from the crowd did nothing to stop him as he strode out, his lips curled in triumph. He had the medallion, and he was now going to finish what he had unknowingly started 10 years ago.
His journey was long, painful, rough. Everything seemed mild and boring compared to his determination to get to the Grascure Sea, where what he needed was buried, on an island hidden to all eyes but those who held the Compass. When he did finally arrive at the docks, he was much like a robot... slowly trudging his way forward, unwilling to stop, even though his half dead body was threatening to fully die. His black eyes scanned the area, hooking on someone sitting on a dock by their boat. There was his victim. He slowly walked up, boots somehow silent on the wood, and grabbed the back of their neck. They quiet yelp they let out did nothing to stop him as he hauled them up, turning them to face him. "I need a ride. Now." He hissed, his teeth sharp, much like a wolves as he smiled grimly at them.
The person eyed him with mistrust and fear before nodding. "Wher'er you want, sir." He mumbled. Axl dropped him, the man hitting the deck with a quiet huff. They clambered slowly onto the boat and begrudgingly gestured for Axl to follow, which he did. He slowly stalked to the front of the boat and reached into his pocket, pulling a compass out and flipping it open. It spun around and around before finally centering just slightly to the right of North. "To the North, right a few degrees." He called back in a gruff tone, his eyes narrowed against the blasting winds, seeming furious that he dared go near.
It took almost 6 hours to sail out there, but slowly the island started appearing in the mist. The Compass, which led a man to their deepest desire, had led true. They pulled up next to a dock, why it was there no one knew. Axl hopped off the boat, looking at them. "If you leave, I'll hunt you down and cut you open to tie you up with your own intestines. Don't leave." He snapped, his threat seeming rather looming in the cloudy evening as he started up towards the beach. Behind him, the man gulped and nodded. Not leaving. Understood.
Axl moved towards the center of the island, picking up a discarded shovel along the way. Skeletons half buried in the sand passed him as he strode along, not stopping for any reason. Soon he found the spot, a sandy area, surrounded by palm trees. He shoved the shovel into the sand and started digging.
Hours later, he had a big enough hole where the sand stopped trickling in. His shovel hit wood, the resounding thunk sounding sweet to his dead ears. He threw it away and bent down, hauling the heavy chest out of the sand and back up onto solid ground. When he opened it, his eyes lit up at the view- thousands of medallions, pure gold, just like the one he held in his hand. His nostrils flared as he breathed in, heart hammering in his chest. Here it was. Freedom. Axl pulled out his knife with shaky hands and held out his palm, slowly cutting his skin. He then clutched the medallion in that hand, letting the blood trickle over it as he squeezed it.
He dropped it into the chest.
It seemed to fall with slow motion, clinging with a sweet sound when it hit. A rush of wind battered his body and his skin started to solidify, no more bones showing through. He shuddered, falling to his knees and groaning quietly. Everything seemed to shift and scream in agony, but then... it was over. Breathing heavily, he lifted a trembling hand... and there were no bones. He... he was human again.
Axl had been cursed by these medallions, having taken them out of greed. The curse fell upon them then, and could only be fixed once every piece was returned. He had spent the last 8 years putting the pieces back, and that was the last one. Now he was free. Free at last.
He stood, a smile crossing his face for the first time in years, his lips twitching upward. He left the chest where it lay, disgusted by it now, and headed back towards the boat... which was still there, obviously. Joyous now, he leapt back onto the planks, then climbed onto the boat. "I did it. I'm free." He whispered, his eyes almost glowing. The man stared at him for a moment quizzically and shook his head. "S'long as you don't gut me, mate." He muttered.
Axl grinned and stood at the front of the ship yet again, but this time, it was for a different reason. He could feel the wind whipping his skin, his cheeks turning red with the feeling. It was amazing. As they started off, he turned into the sunset, and quite honestly? It was finally the perfect ending he never thought he would get.
Axl lounged on the throne, one hand slowly twirling a bone handled knife in circles and the other resting on the armrest. His eyes were closed and head was down, rugged clothing covering the rest of his body. The air was dark and musty, with the distinct smell of mold wafting through. There was no breeze, yet with every breath he took the air seemed to swirl, startled by his presence.
A trembling man kneeled before him, head bowed, hands splayed against the ground. "Axl, please. I couldn't find the coin, and-"
"Silence." The low, gravelly voice rang out in the small space. Slowly, the man on the throne lifted his head, revealing eyes black as his soul, his skin so ghostly the bones showed pale. "You make excuses." Those three words had the other cowering lower with a whimper. Axl slowly stood, his boots somehow silent against the stone as he stepped forward, grabbing the man's chin roughly and tilting it up so they stared at him. "You think I'm going to kill you?" He murmured, then dropped the knife. Relief crossed the man's face for a split second before Axl snapped his neck, and they went limp.
He sighed in an aggrieved manner, stooping down to pick his weapon back up and sheath it. Yet again, another person failed miserably. Now, disappointment marring his expression, he started out. The pendant was calling to him. He just needed to find it.
Days later, he had walked, without eating, without drinking, through 23 cities in the Kraven country. Multiple deaths lie in his wake that no one pinned on him. The pendant still called, singing woefully throughout the night. As each day passed, everything grew less appealing. The sun was not warm on his skin anymore, any food turned to gravel in his mouth. He trekked on, needing, hoping, endlessly praying for the pendant to come to him.
It was in the city of Havka that he stopped, the pull in his chest so strong he felt like he needed to rip his own heart out. He could almost hear the keening wails. Somewhere, the medallion lay, and he needed it now. His onyx eyes slowly scanned the area, the small town, really, as he thought. It seemed people were gathering in what he assumed was the town square, so he headed that way, head bowed.
When he arrived, Axl found out that the reason for this was cage fighting. Pay to play, bigger gains coming out. The tug on his chest was strong here, and he could use a little break, so he ambled up to the table, placing three braekars down, the Kraven equivalent of a 5 dollar bill. "Get me a fight." He mused lowly, keeping his head down and hood up. He had broad shoulders and a tall stature, so he was hard to miss, but yet people didn't seem to spare him a second glance.
The man peered at him for a moment before shrugging and accepting the money. "Name." He drawled, ready to jot it down in a slot.
"Axl." He grunted, not caring if he gave his real name or not. No one knew him by that name anyway. The man merely nodded and gestured to the cage. "You're up next."
Axl shrugged off his jacket and set it down, the tight t-shirt he had on revealing smooth, well muscled lines, lithe yet strong. His arm were covered in ink, and yet the bones still showed, ghostly and pale. He stepped into the cage, flexing his fingers. Another fighter stood in there, smaller than him, yet looking fast. It didn't matter. When the bell rang, he slowly walked around them. He could almost smell the medallion, and there was a good reason. Gold glinted on the other person's chest, alerting him that indeed... there it was. "If I win... give me the medallion. If I lose, I'll give you whatever you want." He murmured, not looking up yet.
The other man tilted his head, looking confused, but it was too good of an opportunity to miss. "You're on, weirdo." He snickered, lunging.
Axl stepped to the side in a second, grabbing the back of their neck and slamming their face into the ground. It was with ease that he wrenched their arm backwards. A sickening crack floated through the air, music to his ears. A scream quickly followed it when he lifted them up by their shirt with inhuman strength and slammed them back down. In less than a minute, the fight was over, the other man unconscious. The design of the floor was well made, as the blood that ran in rivulets down the stones went to the middle and disappeared into a drain.
He bent down and pulled the pendant off, stalking back out and picking up his coat. His hood had fallen off, revealing the black eyes and skull showing through the skin. Evil didn't even begin to describe the way he looked. The quiet gasps and whimpers he heard from the crowd did nothing to stop him as he strode out, his lips curled in triumph. He had the medallion, and he was now going to finish what he had unknowingly started 10 years ago.
His journey was long, painful, rough. Everything seemed mild and boring compared to his determination to get to the Grascure Sea, where what he needed was buried, on an island hidden to all eyes but those who held the Compass. When he did finally arrive at the docks, he was much like a robot... slowly trudging his way forward, unwilling to stop, even though his half dead body was threatening to fully die. His black eyes scanned the area, hooking on someone sitting on a dock by their boat. There was his victim. He slowly walked up, boots somehow silent on the wood, and grabbed the back of their neck. They quiet yelp they let out did nothing to stop him as he hauled them up, turning them to face him. "I need a ride. Now." He hissed, his teeth sharp, much like a wolves as he smiled grimly at them.
The person eyed him with mistrust and fear before nodding. "Wher'er you want, sir." He mumbled. Axl dropped him, the man hitting the deck with a quiet huff. They clambered slowly onto the boat and begrudgingly gestured for Axl to follow, which he did. He slowly stalked to the front of the boat and reached into his pocket, pulling a compass out and flipping it open. It spun around and around before finally centering just slightly to the right of North. "To the North, right a few degrees." He called back in a gruff tone, his eyes narrowed against the blasting winds, seeming furious that he dared go near.
It took almost 6 hours to sail out there, but slowly the island started appearing in the mist. The Compass, which led a man to their deepest desire, had led true. They pulled up next to a dock, why it was there no one knew. Axl hopped off the boat, looking at them. "If you leave, I'll hunt you down and cut you open to tie you up with your own intestines. Don't leave." He snapped, his threat seeming rather looming in the cloudy evening as he started up towards the beach. Behind him, the man gulped and nodded. Not leaving. Understood.
Axl moved towards the center of the island, picking up a discarded shovel along the way. Skeletons half buried in the sand passed him as he strode along, not stopping for any reason. Soon he found the spot, a sandy area, surrounded by palm trees. He shoved the shovel into the sand and started digging.
Hours later, he had a big enough hole where the sand stopped trickling in. His shovel hit wood, the resounding thunk sounding sweet to his dead ears. He threw it away and bent down, hauling the heavy chest out of the sand and back up onto solid ground. When he opened it, his eyes lit up at the view- thousands of medallions, pure gold, just like the one he held in his hand. His nostrils flared as he breathed in, heart hammering in his chest. Here it was. Freedom. Axl pulled out his knife with shaky hands and held out his palm, slowly cutting his skin. He then clutched the medallion in that hand, letting the blood trickle over it as he squeezed it.
He dropped it into the chest.
It seemed to fall with slow motion, clinging with a sweet sound when it hit. A rush of wind battered his body and his skin started to solidify, no more bones showing through. He shuddered, falling to his knees and groaning quietly. Everything seemed to shift and scream in agony, but then... it was over. Breathing heavily, he lifted a trembling hand... and there were no bones. He... he was human again.
Axl had been cursed by these medallions, having taken them out of greed. The curse fell upon them then, and could only be fixed once every piece was returned. He had spent the last 8 years putting the pieces back, and that was the last one. Now he was free. Free at last.
He stood, a smile crossing his face for the first time in years, his lips twitching upward. He left the chest where it lay, disgusted by it now, and headed back towards the boat... which was still there, obviously. Joyous now, he leapt back onto the planks, then climbed onto the boat. "I did it. I'm free." He whispered, his eyes almost glowing. The man stared at him for a moment quizzically and shook his head. "S'long as you don't gut me, mate." He muttered.
Axl grinned and stood at the front of the ship yet again, but this time, it was for a different reason. He could feel the wind whipping his skin, his cheeks turning red with the feeling. It was amazing. As they started off, he turned into the sunset, and quite honestly? It was finally the perfect ending he never thought he would get.
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