#cyblurbs

[roley-poley-foley]

"Look at me, princess."

The pup looked up at Jolly, quickly realised what he wanted and let his mouth drop open.

Jolly spat into it. "Good dog."

"Thank you, sir."

[roley-poley-foley]

Graphic violence, mutilation, cannibalism, werewolves

Jolly pulled his sword out of the last survivor's body with a boot to his chest, lip curling. The fort settled into a deathly silence as he died coughing and crying.

"What about this one?" Nicholas asked.

Jolly looked into the cell he was eyeing. A large, pale figure crouched there, ribs protruding sickeningly.

"Hey!" Nick clapped at the bars of the cell. "You alive in there?"

"Hold on." Jolly went to the small table in the corner of the room.

Atop it was a roll of cloth tied with string. The small paper tag attached to it read werewolf hair. Beside the bundle were more unused tags reading things like werewolf claws, werewolf heart and werewolf hide.

"Cut off one of their arms."

"Don't mind if I do," Nick replied.

Jolly carefully untied the string and unrolled the cloth, finding long black hair in a neat knot. He looked at the wretch in the cell and the messily cropped hair atop its head.

"Gods." Nick stood, holding the arm he'd just severed with his knife in a tight grip.

"You want a minute alone with it, or..." Nicholas said.

Jolly took the arm from Nick before he could get any ideas and tossed it between the bars of the cell door.

The pathetic creature moved faster than Jolly had expected, snatching up the arm and sinking its teeth into the meat.

"Guard dog," Nicholas guessed, "They were starving him into submission."

"More like they didn't have anything to feed him," Jolly replied, "No livestock and nobody's used the roads around here in weeks according to those survivors. Basically since people started disappearing." He watched the beast tear meat from the arm with blunt, human teeth. "I'm guessing they just wanted him to last until the full moon so that they could harvest more parts from him. They have some tags ready on the table."

Nick crouched in front of the cell, somberly staring at the werewolf. "Can we help him?" he asked softly.

"We can't predict what he'll do once he's out."

"Look at him, man, he's not gonna do shit. He's half dead, I can smell it."

"You didn't smell him when we came in," Nicholas pointed out.

"Exactly, his scent is weak. If he had it in him to be a threat it would be strong enough to smell like a challenge."

"You wanna take him back to that village of survivors we just rescued from these raiders and nurse him back to health?"

The werewolf was now watching them with black eyes as it sucked on bloody bones.

"If he can't behave, I'll kill him myself," Nick vowed, "I've heard werewolf hearts taste like the gods made them."

[roley-poley-foley]

Contains: death threats

"Genuine question," Noah begun.

Fuck. He was looking at Joakim. Nick shared a glance with Folio, bracing himself.

"Why do you hate us so much?"

"You as in the undead?" Joakim asked.

Noah nodded. "You make being undead sound like some terrible fate, but come on. We can live forever."

"It's wrong," Joakim said simply, "Mortals are meant to die, it gives our lives meaning."

"If you wanna die so bad, I can give you a hand."

"Noah," Nick warned.

"I'll be happy to take you with me."

"Jolly," Folio said sharply. A smile pulled at his lips when he looked back at Nick.

"There's also the whole King of the Dead thing. He's the one who raises most undead, am I wrong."

"He does," Noah confirmed, "What about it?"

"The dead should have no king. They should be free of worldly concerns like that."

"What about your oh-so-righteous king?" Noah asked with an eyeroll, "I'm guessing he could rule the dead, right?"

"No. Nobody should rule us after we die."

Noah sniffed and looked away. "My king is good. I'm honoured to serve him for as long as we both exist."

Joakim scoffed, but paused a moment. "Well. Might as well, right? Not much else to do since he destroyed the world."

"Come on," Folio cut in, "You knight types might not see any purpose outside the King of the Dead, but us normal people have plenty to live for."

[roley-poley-foley]

When Noah was young, the king discovered that he was a god reborn. Hrao-viig, slayer of elven armies, reincarnated as a humble servant's son. Even then, he'd had memories that weren't his own, of places he'd never seen and things he'd never done.

The king, of course, had been eager to claim Noah as his son and Noah's father had disappeared. His mother had refused to play along with the lie despite offers of wealth and she'd been branded a blasphemer and disappeared too. Few risked closeness with Noah now.

Nicholas had gathered that Noah's only friend was a bodyguard, Joakim. He was more relaxed than others, Noah felt comfortable talking to him. Nicholas hoped Joakim was a better friend than bodyguard. He'd never been able to protect Noah from Nicholas and he certainly didn't protect him from the king's physician when he came for his holy blood.

Well, to be fair to Joakim, he could probably protect Noah from Nicholas if Noah would just ask him to. Nicholas had expected him to, but apparently he felt that he deserved to be punished. Maybe he couldn't clearly remember Hrao-viig's crimes, but he did know that every day he sat in his temple being prayed to and given offerings while doing nothing to help the people asking for it. He told Nicholas that maybe his divinity was real, but he felt like an imposter, being worshipped like that. He was powerless. If he wasn't, he swore he'd free Nicholas. Nicholas told him that freedom wouldn't un-burn his village or un-slaughter his people. He had nowhere to go and here he could at least offer his ancestors rest.

Well. He hoped they could rest. Noah, their ancient human enemy reborn, was unfortunately endearing, sadly likeable, and Nicholas was very lonely.