NationStates Jolt Archive

[OOC: Gonna be gore and possibly harsh language throughout this thread. You don't like that stuff, please leave this thread now. No bitching at me about it.]

A seaside plain, rich with vegetation and animals. Small creatures went about their bussiness. They saw the Big Thing that moved over the lands among them and ignored It. It was there allways. The predators that wandered through avoided It. The prey ran from It as the Thing moved about on it's walks. Soon the silence was broken by something that the creatures hadn't heard before. The Big Thing had though and it moved to hide itself.

----

"Come on. Are you telling me that Kamara. The Kamara, High Inquisitor used to be a sex slave?!"

"Yeah. I heard it from an Imperial Tower watch supervisor. Oran called for her one day and she must have done something right...."

"Oran? Ick. My God. Even imagining what his face looks like is bad enough. I pity that girl..."

Such passed for intelligent conversation in the back of the truck hauling survey equipment into the Imperial Gholgoth Province. The two were Engineers, part of a team sent to survey the site for one of the fortress cities that the Empire was going to build here.

The truck came to a stop and the group piled out. "Allright, you two, get the tent set up. The rest of you, start offloading equipment. I want this place up and running in thirty min-" The next sound was a gurgle, cut short. The others looked on in horror as blood flowed from the slash across his throat. Eyes wide, he collapsed, quite dead. A second later another screamed as he looked down at his stomache... and his intestines spilling out, before he sank to his knees.

The saw what killed the second. But It was too fast. Within a matter of a few seconds, teh entire crew was dead, save for one.

Holding his sidearm unsteadily on the.... thing... he spoke shakilly. "Don't move. I'll shoot." It ignored him and charged. He kept his word, firing twice, but it didn't save him. His head was removed from his body in one clean swipe of It's scythe.

It let out a sound that caused creatures to flinch for a mile around. Birds took flight at the chilling noise. No one was around to see It, but still It stood on the rocks of it's hunting grounds and roared. It had new prey now. New invaders came to the Dying Grounds. He would slaughter them all.

The Executioner's bloodlust was reawakened.

http://usera.imagecave.com/Alpha-Zero/executioner1.jpg
The Executioner (http://usera.imagecave.com/Alpha-Zero/executioner.jpg)
Hunter of the Blessed Shores

--------

Another group came hours later, in search of the missing party. What they found was the bodies just as they fell, save for one that was torn to shreds by vultures.

"My God..." One marine mummered, removing his helmet slowly.

GOD CANNOT SAVE YOU.

The Marine's head rolled across the ground, adding more death and blood to the land. The rest fired everything they had at the creature. It roared in both pain and rage.

The battle was one sided. It was dark... but it could see them easily. It was hard to kill. They were soft and flesh was weak. Limbs were ripped from the Marines, bowels were spilled across the ground, arteries sliced. It took pleasure in taking the last victim's gun away, then disecting him quickly and effiiciently, ignoring his screams. The Executioner finished him off by driving his talons into the poor man's back and ripping his spinal cord from his body.

It paused and looked up. Ther was a new noise. Allmost overhead... how had it missed that? Bloodrage is a distracting thing, apparently.

The helicopter was well out of reach of the Executioner's wrath. "Base, we have the camp in site. They're all dead. The bastard that did it is looking at us right now." "Describe them." "Uh... I don't know how sir. There's only one thing I think of when I see it." "Well spit it out, Marine!" He looked down at the Executioner, who picked up a body and flung it into the air at the copter, showering the land with gore.

"Death..."

The Executioner soon grew tired of looking up at the hovering craft and hobbled off into the mists. The short battle was one sided, but still, he was injured from it. He needed to rest.

Three images of it were captured from the helicopter, standing among the dead. They were analyzed, checked against any database they could be and nothing matched.

So they decided to send in brutal killers to hunt down the brutal killer. Not an hour later, a cargo helicopter hotdropped a squad of Civils in the clearing near the bodies, immediatly lifting off and leaving the area. The Civils were predators. They didn't need the copter overhead. It hindered them more than helped, being so loud.

The Executioner knew they were out there, but hid himself well. These were different. Not soft... not weak. These might be worthy foes. After leading them on a wild goose chase, appearing at random and concealing himself, the Civils were getting very, very angry at him.

When he gauged they were angry enough, the Executioner dropped from the trees one one and brok it's neck. Immediatly spinning and driving his fist across another Civil's jaw and spinning it's head around to face the wrong direction.

The rest wasted no time in abandoning their guns and grabbing their blades, leaping for their target. It had moved though, grabbing one Civil by the leg and using the soldier himself as a weapon against his fellow hunters. This caused the Civils to pause the attack and regroup, as the Execututioner produced his scythe. Is this your best, hunters? If you want to put me down, you must do better than this. The Civils charged again.

The battle went on for nearly two hours, neither side tiring considerably. Blood covered the ground, as did internal organs and limbs. The animals of the area were all gone or hiding. They didn't understand the battle, but they knew it wasn't good. Seven Civils lay dead, but the Executioner was limping to one side as the sun to midmorning...

Enough. You are the best warriors to have set foot in my hunting grounds in many hundreds of years. Who are you?

The five looked at each other. One growled a bit. "We are Civils. Hunter killers of the Empire of Crimmond. Who are you?"

I am the Executioner, Hunter of the Blessed Shores. Why have you come to my hunting grounds? You are invaders?

The allready scarred Civil chuckled. "No. We are protectors of the Dying Grounds, standing side by side with Reavers to do so."

This suprised the creature, who turned to look towards where he knew the bulk of the lands of Pantera lay. Then you are as I am. Tied to these lands of blood in alliance of protection. I doubt they even remember the legend of Gar the Executuioner... He turned back. We have no quarell Civil. Your kind are worth foes, but are more worthy to be allies, I think. And with that, he moved into the mists that were receeding and vanished. leaving the five Civils to wonder how they had become allies with a creature that killed over half their squad...

--------

The five briefed the Commanding Officer of the Garrison, explaining what had transpired in more detail than the man would have liked. The descirptions of gore were making him lose his appetite. "So we're allied with this thing that killed allmost fourty Marines? Hell, seven were your own Squad!"

This got growls from all the Civils. "It deemed us invaders. We did not carry the flag of any nation it knew of."

"We need more information on it."

Rumors spread fast through the garrison about the Executioner. Messages were sent to Europe asking for any information on an executioner named Gar. No luck. So they started asking other Gholgoth nations... no one thought to go and ask the Executioner himself.

Message sent to all the nations of Gholgoth:

We have had an unfortunate incident with something in Gholgoth. One which cost teh lives of a survey team, a squad of Marines and over half a squad of Civils. It calls itself 'Gar the Executioner' and claims that we are in it's hunting grounds, according to the remaining Civils.

This being isn't human, as far as we can tell. The surviving squad members insisted that it wasn't like anything they have ever faced. This is their first assignment abroad though. We request any and all information you may have, be it official or not.

-Gholgoth Marine Garrison Commandant

---

Life returned to normal in the hunting grounds. The little creatures went back to ignoring the Big Thing and It ignored them. More than usuall though, as the Executioner had much on his mind. It had been hundreds of years since he had waged war. He had appeared three times in battle, brutally slaying the enemy of the Reavers, only to vanish once the last enemy was either dead or retreating. The most he told them was that he was Gar and he was protector of the Blessed Shores.

http://usera.imagecave.com/Alpha-Zero/executioner1.jpg
Gar the Executioner (http://usera.imagecave.com/Alpha-Zero/executioner.jpg)
Hunter of the Blessed Shores

[OOC- Taggity-tag.]

Is there any evidence that this being, Gar the Executioner, could be considered a threat to the peoples of our region? If so, what measures can we make to contain or, if necessary, destroy it?

Elsa Berger,
Minister of Foreign Affairs,
Federal Republic of Aequatio

To: The Empire of Crimmond
From: The Ministry of Records and Archives
Leah Almstead; Head Librarian

"We recieved an incomplete fax the other day. The only mention was a "Gar the Executioner" I can only assume that this is a Historical Inquiry, when I ran a search in the Database, I came up with "Gar the Undying".

According to an old scroll, hundreds of years ago a small group of Expeditionary Templars were sailing an unknown shore; they landed preparing to make camp for the night, and were attacked by a large figure. After a battle that lasted throughout the night, One Templar survived, and was on deaths doorstep when he arrived in Tersanctus weeks later. One of the Kunghshaoist preists recounted his tale to writing, and the Templar claimed that he who he fought was 'Undying', having shot him with several Arrows, and Fought him sword too sword.

It has been an obscure reference, and largely forgotten in Tersanctan History,..until now. I would love too hear what you have in your archives about this Gar."

--End Transmission

OOC: Bascially she recived the fax after a game of telephone, when less and less information is provided, as the info gets passed from Ministry to Ministry.

The Colonel tossed the messages to the Brute commander. "You saw him and heard him. I'd rather trust your opinions than my own."

The horned male nodded and read the messages before sending a reply to Aequito.

I commanded the Squad that was attacked. He thought we were invaders and sought to repel us. He can be wounded and probably can be killed as well, but he believes that while we make worthy foes, we would be even more worthy allies. He has killed just short of fourty of his foes. Seven were my squad. The absolute best that Crimmond has to offer. We did the most damage to him though... The sort answer is I don't believe he is a threat. Not to nations he knows to be allied. I will return soon to his grounds with information on all Gholgoth nations. Attached is a depiction of this Gar.

As to the next, he looked at one fo the other Brutes. "Get me that Corporal that draws those pictures of skulls so well." He said and started to type again. After a few minutes, he was there, with paper and pencil. "Start drawing what I describe." He then went on to give a vividly detailed picture of the Executioner. What was drawn wasn't all that off, so he took it. "Thank you. Dismissed."

He attacks all invaders. He sees these lands as his hunting grounds and defends them. He attacked and killed over thirty Marines and seven of Crimmond's best hunters. He sees us as allies now that it was explained we are defenders as well. Included is the depiction of him.

He had the picture scanned and attached the copies to each message and sent them directly to each of the persons.

"This thing is a legend in Pantera, Sir. Better yet, he's a 'boogey-man'. My grandfather told us stories of the 'Taker'." The young Reaver took a breath and brushed at his thin, scraggly whiskers thoughtfully.

Taking a small flask from a hip pocket and pulling a draught, the grizzled old Warhound motioned for the younger warrior to continue,"Me grandfather, he says this thing, is a spirit o' the earth, of the rocks and the trees. A Seidh, maybe. I dunno. He's not evil, or good. He's the middling. He just is. I forget most o' the story, now, but I rememba that The Rigante, M'lord Reaver's Death Tribes? Yeah. Well, few hunnert years back, an army come for their Mountains.

"Well, this enemy force, they gets ashore, and the Rigante are formin' up for battle. Then, this -thing- leaps outta the rocks and down ont' the beach where the invaders is. They'd had a Night-Fire after they landed, an' they'd burnt an old weirwood. Old tree, thousand years old or more. Well, this Taker, he looks at them an' with a wild cry leapt among them. A good sized force, hunnert men. Two hunnert, some say even five hunnert...

"They is wiped out. The Rigante watchin', they say he just slips though them, killin' an' gorin' fucks lef' an'right. Is a massacre.[/i]" The youth's tone is eager now as he comes to the conclusion of his tale,"Now, this thing they called the 'Taker', he turned on the tribesmen, the Rigante.

"Now, these is hard men. The ancestors of M'lords fanatic tribesmen. The death legions, eh? Well, this Taker looks at them, an' they freeze up. T' a man, they knew he was gonna do t' them what he done t' the enemy.

"Well, he donna do it. Instead, he levels this finga at them an' says 'These men were rapers an' defilers of My Land. My hunting Grounds. They've paid the blood coin for their vice. Foul not my Lands, or I shall come for you as well."

The Warhound dismissed the Reaver and let his thoughts drift. Was this 'Taker' from the boy's story the same fiend that stalked Crimmond's Gholgothan holdings? It wasn't likely, but it was possible. Many wights and Seidhe lurked the forgotten stretches of crag and forest in Pantera.

Doubtless some of the boy's stories had been elaboration from a few hundred years of retelling, but... a beast of that ferocity could be a dread enemy. Doubtless he had allowed the Rigante to escape because of their primitive lifestyle, and their dedication to the Old Gods of rock and stream. They lived in harmony with the earth, and it seemed this Taker did as well.

It sounded more and more like a Seidh. Earth spirits. Tricksters and saviors, they were. Some offered fabulous wealth in exchange for seemingly small favors, only to shift the reality of the wish into disaster. Others were benign, healing the sick or punishing hte wicked. It sounded like Crimmond's Hunter was one of the latter, and would be a terrible foe.

...Or a valued ally, Hound. He thought to himself.

Rising, he moved from the room and ordered a recording of the youth's tale sent to Crimmond. From there, he would wash his hands of the matter. So long as this Executioner, or Taker, stayed in Crimmond, then he cared little. Pantera was his concern.