AFKverse Pt 3

Killa shook his hands of excess water before toweling them dry, a slight pang of shame filled him after catching a glance of the trash can and its contents. *That was completely natural, every man has done something like that before.* Killa reasoned, though even to himself the excuses sounded shallow and fell short. After staring intently into the trash can, Killa threw more paper and any other rubbish into it to bury the evidence of his misdeeds. He considered burning it, and may have done so if not for the attention that the smoke would bring him.

After filling the bin of shame to the brim, Killa exited the latrine adjoining his room and began getting dressed. He pulled out a fresh pair of undergarments and a tunic, forgoing his armour and remaining in only lighter garb as there were no plans for traveling this day. Once he had checked the mirror and deemed his attire satisfactory to be seen by the public, Killa made to exit the room when a strip of cloth on his bed caught his eye.

Quickly, with speed he seldom displayed outside of a battlefield, Killa reached his bedside and picked up the cherished piece of cloth. Belinda’s underwear. Killa glanced around his room, knowing he was still as alone as before but unable to temper the need to ensure no one had seen his personal treasure. Satisfied that his privacy was secured, he took a quick sniff of the garment before stashing it securely in an interior pocket of his tunic. Once he gave another glance around the room to check for any other belongings being out of place, Killa exited his room with a dreamy smile on his face.

Walking down the well-worn stairs he was welcomed by the sight of his men in jovial moods and more relaxed than he had seen in many moons; a good night’s rest and food with seasoning was the main cause. The first of his company to spot him was Brewmaster Rigby, his portly build stood to greet him eagerly and hailed him over. “Milord over here! Saved you these rashers of bacon!” Rigby’s booming voice attracted everyone’s attention, soldiers and patrons alike; some looked on with mild irritation while his men disregarded the common occurrence and returned to their own conversations.

Rigby continued to babble on to the prince from across the room, not much allowing him to get a word in edgewise outside of a grunt or hum of acknowledgement every once in a while. Killa strode towards the long table and was enveloped by the mustached man’s beefy arms as soon as he was within reach so Rigby could lead the prince to a seat. The stench of alcohol that always clinged to Rigby’s clothing and breath and his close proximity was almost overbearing and nearly put Killa into a drunken haze himself.

If not for the large brute’s many decades of loyalty and repeated proof that he operated better while under the influence, Killa would have strongly recommended the burly man to attend those meetings for the kingdom’s alcoholics. The one time in Killa’s memory that Rigby had been ordered to fight sober had been a disaster; the man had a panic attack that caused untold amounts of damage to the kingdom, and he was allowed to do as he wished from then on. It was better for everyone that way, as no one could fight the way Rigby could, and while his methods may be a tad unconventional they were unexpectedly effective.

When Killa was able to finally take his seat, a plate of bacon was placed in front of him and a flagon of Rigby’s special brew was offered. Killa politely declined the hearty man’s generosity, bile rose in this throat at the distinct memory of the last time he imbibed the man’s special brew. Suffice to say he did not remember much after the second stein, but from the tales regaled to Killa by the one of the castle maids Rosaline, he nearly ruined his chances with Princess Belinda. If not for a timely save from Lucius he definitely would have; the method of choice being knocking Killa unconscious, much to his later embarrassment.

The prince nibbled on a piece of bacon and let his eyes wander the tavern, taking notes of the little details surrounding him as a strange feeling of apprehension rose in him. A couple bounty posters were plastered along the bulletin board, a few mercenaries enjoyed their treasure from a recent hunt, and Raine and Fawkes speaking with a red haired witch. While slowly scanning the room, his eyes met with Gwenyth’s; he noticed the concern in her eyes, no doubt still worried about their brief encounter this morning.

Killa smiled and hoped with his expression alone he could convey that he was fine and remorseful about his unusually aggressive tone from this morning. After a moment or two, Gwen smiled back; message received and all was thankfully forgiven. For the rest of breakfast, Killa ate in peace, every now and then paying attention to one of Rigby’s tall tales and chuckling along with the rambunctious laughter whenever a joke landed particularly well. However, in the back of Killa’s mind he could not help but feel unnaturally uneasy, as if this was the calm before a terrible storm.

With breakfast out of the way, Killa and his men huddled around Henrik, all listening intently for what their next move would be. “We will be staying in the town for one more day to restock our supplies and gather further information,” Hendrik relayed before focusing his attention on a select few of his men. “Hogan, Angelo, and Morvus, you three will be with me, the rest at ease and relax, it will be many days of travelling once more before we reach Yggdrasil, the Forest of the Wilders.”

The soldiers saluted and dispersed quickly to enjoy what Mire Town had to offer. Killa waited for everyone to leave before approaching Hendrik and his three chosen soldiers; the soldiers noticing the Prince approaching began to kneel, but were stopped by Killa as formalities were not needed for now. “My Lord, is there something you need?” Hendrik asked, filing away his map to give the Prince his full attention.

“I feel an oddity in the air, it’s as if the air is charged with static,” Killa described, unsure if his head guard would understand his concern.

Hendrik scratched his beard slowly, contemplating the Prince’s words. “For how long have you felt this way?”

“Since this morning, but has become more suffocating since then and now it almost feels nearly unbearable,” the Prince elaborated.

Hendrik took a deep breath in and his eyes widened, this stench was familiar. *It reeks of blood and the air is charged with dark energy; this is the same scent as when the invasion first started...* His eyes widened in realization. “PROTECT PRINCE KILLA,” Hendrik roared suddenly at his 3 men, just as a rift appeared above Mire Town and casting the once peaceful town in an eerie violet light.

Mezoth the Abysmal Butcher dropped from the sky, cratering the ground he landed on as a stream of Hypogean forces fell alongside him. “LLA MEHT LLIK,” the Hypogean General commanded in an unknown language; the slaughter had begun.

Hogan, Angelo and Morvus quickly placed their Prince in the center of their formation to ensure his safety and started to move toward the escape point. “Quickly My Lord, we must escape before this town is overrun,” Hogan instructed over his shoulder as he took the forward position and began leading the party through town to the East Gate.

“What about the others? It is our duty to protect them!” Prince Killa exclaimed as he was being roughly maneuvered to be surrounded by the soldiers and forcibly led away from the rampaging Hypogeans.

“Our duty is to protect you; you are the second prince of Ranhorn,” Morvus, a keen eyed dwarven sharpshooter replied gruffly, taking the vanguard position and using his rifle to pick off any Hypogeans daring to come too close. Killa made to argue, but Angelo the court musician placed a hand on the Prince’s arm, a sad smile conveying everything he needed to hear. Killa bit his lips hard until it bled, but allowed himself to be led.

*The role of a King is to protect those who serve under him. So why then am I only being led to safety and allowing others to fight in my stead?* Killa thought to himself angrily, lamenting at his current inability to do anything against the hoarde. He wanted to protect his people; the screams of the poor, unsuspecting townspeople who were being slain and hunted for sport from the Hypogeans felt like lashes from an acid whip directly to Killa’s heart. He could not just stand by and let this happen, could he?

Upon reaching the East Gate, the Gallant Three union and Prince awaited for the others to arrive. The Prince, still in the center of their formation, watched with guilt clear on his face as the once peaceful town crumbled and buildings were lit aflame from the invasion. The scent of blood hung gruesomely thick in the air, harrowing screams and cries echoed into the distance. Killa shook with tension with his hands curled into tight fists at his side, enraged at his helplessness in all of this.

*Where is the JUSTICE in all this, innocents are being slaughtered and there is nothing I can do.* Killa cursed the gods for allowing this injustice to occur. Where was Athalia, the Harbinger of Justice? How could she sit back and ignore the pleas for salvation from the innocent and allow their blood to be spilt? His anger blinding him, Killa lashed out and punched the nearby wall with all his might. The crunch of his knuckles fracturing from the force of the blow and the pain that came with it was a welcome feeling to distract him from the numbness threatening to take him over.

Blood dripped from minor scratches caused by the rough brick and satisfying Killa further. *Good. It should be my blood spilt here, not anyone else’s.* Angelo, the only one having seen the prince’s tantrum, played a short tune to stop the bleeding and heal the fractured knuckles after a short moment. The bleeding immediately stopped and the bones mended through the magical song, but a dull ache still remained; Killa cherished that pain and treated it as a reminder that he is weak.

He looked back towards the near decimated town, glaring at the ruins of homes and shops, promising himself that he would do whatever it took to get stronger so that he may protect others. Angelo watched the prince warily, preparing to intervene again should there be a repeat performance. He kept silent about the matter, for he understood how the young prince felt; he too felt disgusted, but experience had helped to temper his mental and emotional state in times of crisis.

Seconds felt as though they dragged on for minutes and minutes felt like hours as the party waited for the rest of their squad to rendezvous. The sound of battle was not abating; Killa began to feel a sense of dread as the time ticked on, but chose to have faith in his soldiers. Hogan mumbled something to Morvus, “You see that? Check to see if that is General Hendrik.”

Morvus adjusted the scope of his rifle and peered through it, his next singular word was said with such urgency that it conveyed all it needed to, “HORDE!” Dozens of Hypogens minions were crawling, running, or flying their way towards the four men; their feral growls casting a spell of fear that paralyzed Killa. The guards readied their weapons once more while the prince could only look on in abject horror.

Hogan brought his shield up to deflect blows, countering with his sword to pierce and slash through enemies by the handful. Morvus readied, aimed and let loose shot after shot, each shot hitting with deadly accuracy before any creatures came within five feet of him. Angelo’s fingers deftly strung the chords of his harp, healing any wounds as they appeared and restoring energy for the allies and debuffing the surrounding enemies.

The hoarde was slowly being thinned, they were all pawn soldiers bolstering the Hypogean’s forces not selected for their strength or intelligence, but this was a battle of attrition and the soldiers were losing stamina quickly. Killa surveyed the scene, trying to come up with a plan to gain a tactical advantage, when he heard the sound of a small child’s cries. The prince looked around fervently but saw no one beyond the rushing enemies. He heard the sound again, but realized he could not have possibly heard such soft whimpers with his ears; he was feeling the sounds within himself.

Confused, but with no time to fully comprehend, Killa instinctively followed the feeling until his eyes fell upon a building nearby that had just collapsed from the horde's attack. There. Without hesitation, Killa bounded from within the protective ranks of the three soldiers in a mad dash towards the building, knowing that he just had to save the child inside; he had to save them. He could hear Hogan’s surprised yell for him to stop, but he paid no heed.

Avoiding and using the Hypogean’s blindspots to his advantage, he finally made it the dilapidated building relatively unharmed. He rummaged through the rubble, the sounds getting clearer and louder until he flung one last wooden beam to the side. Lying unconscious was a little girl with pink hair; she was a bit roughed up, but definitely still breathing. Killa moved to pick her up when a shadow alerted him to the presence of another. With the girl in his arms Killa spun around and time itself slowed down. A monstrous Hypogean stood tall in front of him, its sword swinging down to cleave him in two. Memories played out before his eyes unbidden from when he was a child:

When he was first introduced to cousin Gwenyth and her youthful promises to him of becoming his bride.

The first time he and Lucius sparred and never having won a single match against his older brother.

Graduating with top honors at the Temple of Ascension and seeing the proud faces of Lucius and their father.

Meeting Belinda at the library and their many shy encounters there; the two royals always searching for a reason to see each other.

Their first night together at the Oak Inn with all the awkward and embarrassed probing, but their love being completely genuine.

Their marriage at the Resonating Crystal where he lifted the veil off his bride’s face and kissed her deeply.

*Ah… this must be what they mean when they say your life will flash before your eyes.* Killa thought with some remorse, his eyes watering and a single tear escaping the corner of his eye and marking a trail down his face. He was not ready to die, but he had no choice to accept. Such a cruel world, extinguishing any flicker of hopeful light brought into existence.

“CRIPPLING BLOW!” Hendrik yelled while crashing down from the sky, slamming both his tower shields into the ground and causing it to reverberate, his ultimate move stunning and knocking down all enemies within the vicinity.

Not a second later, a second ultimate reverberated through the area as Gwenyth screamed out, “DIVINE ARROW.” Hundreds of light arrows generated by the blonde archer rained from the sky, piercing and slaying any enemies that remained. The cavalry had arrived; their escape point was secured. Hendrik and Gwenyth made their way towards the prince with haste.

Seeing them, Killa could only smile as he saw his two most loyal subjects approach, still holding the injured pink-haired child to his chest closely. As relief filled him, the edges of Killa’s vision swam and darkened until he lost consciousness, the worried callf of his name the last thing he could hear.