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The Bid of Two Demons: Medieval Conflict

4 years ago
Commended by mizal on 5/6/2019 9:09:53 PM

“Hey, Jhøn,” A resounding voice booms. You turn to the being that owns it, expecting it to continue. Luckily for your sanity, it does. “Let us make another wager, shall we?” Of course. What else could that useless oaf of a demon do if not make pointless wagers? Still, though, you have been bored for decades now - so in a moment of impulse, you humor its idea.

“You have piqued my interests, Hynri,” you answer, “I shall hear you out. Speak of this wager, and if it is worth the time it took to hear it, I shall not pull your wretched tongue out of your face.” Fearfully enough, you find yourself looking forward to a good wager, something to occupy yourself with.

“Ah, I am afraid you will not be able to harvest my tongue, for I have a most wonderful wager!” Hynri shouts in glee. For a being that is thousands of years old, it acts like a human child. “Let us take control of two peasants - just two mere nameless peasants - and within their lifetimes, let us see who can get our peasants higher status!” You have to admit that you are most impressed by its proposition. The humans have been going along too peacefully; a little demonic interference would serve them well.

“Very well,” you agree after a moment of consideration, “Two mere peasants in rural England, and nothing more.” With that, you both vanish into nothingness; both nowhere and everywhere in search of a viable host. In nearly no time, both of you find a suitable host, and the wager begins.

The last thing you notice before entering your host is Hynri’s warning. “No magic-” is all you hear it say before you black out.

/\\//\\//\\//\\//\\/

You wake up, this time in the body of the peasant you seized control of. In addition to the peasant’s body, you also have his memories - which is underwhelming, to say the least; he had even more of an uneventful life than you had! Still, though, that is due to change. You have until this body dies to do something big, but the question remains at what you should do - or even where to begin. You spend the next few months at your new house, getting used to your new body and surroundings. Unfortunately, however, this temporary peace ends with the galloping of horses down the dirt road, followed by the dragging of a large object - which is most likely a cart, although at this point it is impossible to tell if it is the cart of a noble, a merchant, or a patrol.

Alas, it turned out to be the latter-most. The horses slow to a halt outside your property's boundaries and two men clad in chain mail and the royal crest steps off and approaches you. Not sure how to react, you stand there and wait for them. Maybe they can give you some much-needed information, so it is in your interest to keep them alive. The biggest of the two, being quite bulky in his armor, breaks the tense silence in the form of an order.

“State your name, peasant.” He barks. What he fails to realize is that he would’ve been killed on the spot by you for his insolence, if it weren’t for the information he might have! However, you do not tell him that. You decide to be diplomatic…

“Do you have leprosy catch your ears, you field-ridden wretch? I told you to-” His cuts his sentence short upon getting spat on. In disbelief, he brings his gloved hand to his face, which catches some of the excess spit. “You son of a bitch, prepare to-”

“*Ätzender speichel,*” you interrupt, and his screams of anger quickly turns into screams of agony - which would make sense, considering you just turned your spit into a corrosive weapon. As he clutches his rapidly dwindling face, the other man snaps out of his shocked state. Instead of reaching for his sword, however, he reaches for some charm on his necklace. A talisman, perhaps?

“D-Demon!” He shouts as he pushes the charm in front of himself as if it were a shield. “Prepare to be removed from this Earth!” Ah, so the charm is a religious artifact of sorts. You can definitely feel its power, but it is not nearly enough to defeat you. Still, though, it would be troublesome to leave a follower of the old religion alive, so you prepare another spell…

Quickly, you stop yourself. You have already used magic, which was specifically against the nature of the wager. If this comes out, then you automatically lose the bid, and that would be quite troublesome for your status. So instead of melting this man, you start walking to the dissipating remains of the other man, opting to use his sword. It is melted in some places, but it will get the job done. So you turn around, preparing to swiftly finish this nonsense.

Of course, it doesn’t go the way you expected - it almost never does. The other man, knowing he had no chance of killing you, had used his charm as a beacon, sending an otherworldly presence high into the sky, a message to all exorcists, a cry for help. That damned coward… If Hynri sees this, then you will lose this wager! Deciding that a quick death by the sword is too merciful for this scum, you decide to melt him where he stands.

Well, kneels - the other guard, seemingly knowing his fate, kneels down to you. “P-Please, please s-spare my life,” He begs you, all traces of dignity lost. How pathetic. “I-I have my mother and s-seven kid brothers to provide for!” he tries to reason. All he is achieving is pissing you off more with each word he says.

“Do you not have a father to do that? I mean, if you and your brothers make 7, then surely they would appreciate having one less mouth to feed~!” You taunt. He will probably just give you some sad sob story of his death by plague or bandits, how original.

“My father…” he slowly says as he steals a glance at where the dead man once stood - now a tattered head of armor. He silently starts shaking, undoubtedly using what little remnants of his remaining pride to control his heaved breaths. How weak.

“Heh heh heh,” you chuckle. “Like father, like son. Ätzender speichel!” you chant, taking a moment to prepare another dosage of saliva. The man, seemingly having lost all situation awareness, starts uncontrollably shaking, locked in his vulnerable position. Oh well, that works for you. Maybe you will have enough time after dealing with that bastard to clean up the effects of the charm - the message is sticking out like a sore thumb, to put it into human terms.

“That is enough, demon,” you hear a voice from the cart declare. You see a man dressed in cheap clothes much like your own, with patches over other patches and a belt made out of scraps of old clothing. Is that how you look? The man, paying no heed to the chaos going on, walks towards you. Only one mere peasant - nay, only one mortal - would be stupid enough to approach an enraged demon. You can guess who it is, but you sincerely hope you are incorrect.

“Hynri?” You ask the approaching figure. Maybe you can convince him that this is a mix-up, that you did not use any magic, that the heap of armor is irrelevant to the situation! The peasant stops in front of you, scarcely giving you six inches of breathing room.

“Call me Henry,” he tells you. Same name, just with a less guttural pronunciation, but whatever, it’s his name. Hynri - no, Henry - looks at the pathetic man, still shivering, trying to silence his heaving breaths, as if the wet patch of dirt under where his face hangs doesn’t give him away. Utterly hopeless. Not wanting to blatantly use magic in front of Henry, you grab the corroded blade, preparing to end that man’s life in one fell swoop. However, unexpectedly, you feel a stinging pain in your chest. You look down, finding a dark lance protruding out of your torso. Touche. You turn around expecting Henry to explain that the penalty for cheating is the loss of your current body, but he looks… furious, beyond angry.

“I said, that’s enough, Jhøn.” He grates. “Not only have you cheated, but you have murdered the father of my master - before turning around and trying to slaughter him at his weakest,” his whole body is twitching in raw rage, it would seem. Whatever got him so mad, it sure as hell wasn’t cheating. Did he… did Hynri get attached to this temporary life? Damned fool. You always knew that nothing good could come out of this bid. “Ah, but see here. You can not say that I am acting out of emotion here, see. You have cheated - yes, I saw you melt master’s father with your spittle, and I heard you prepare that dreadful spit for master. So do forgive me when I say this, but you have lost this bid, and the penalty is your life - both this one and your real one.” What the hell is he going on about? Did he just say that he will kill you as not only a human but also a demon? This situation has taken a turn for the worse. However, demons simply cannot kill other demons, not with dark magic, anyway. Only the clerical magic of the old religion can achieve that, which a demon naturally cannot have…

He pulled out a holy book. Hynri has pulled out a holy book of the old religion. As a demon, this should not be possible. No spell could allow this. This is impossible! Will he seriously commit such a heinous act of murder over such a minor infraction? This is but a simple wager! Alas, he seems dedicated in his endeavors. He turns to face you. Will he follow through with this?

“Wait - just know this,” you attempt to talk reason into Henry. “If you commit such a foolish act, you would be effectively declaring war on all the demons!” you point out. Will he abandon his faction - a powerful, almighty status - just for this meager life as a servant to that weakling? “Think it over, these pathetic humans could not offer you any more power or status than the demonic faction can! Would you rather live a slave to that worthless pile of-” Your words abruptly end, a howl of pain taking its place. You fall to the ground - with the realization that your legs are still planted where they stand! That damned fool, he has really done it! He has abandoned everything he is in favor of these humans!

“I am sorry, Jhøn.” Hynri says, the gravity of his situation finally hitting him. Of course, that won’t fix anything - you are already losing your life force for good. This is your last life, both as a human and a demon. “You have pushed my limits, and I had to do what I thought was best. I am aware that I am to become an outlaw to the demonic faction, but that means nothing if I can protect master and his family. Hell, I have already failed,” he grimly speaks, stealing a glance at the armor. “I am not sure what happens when an immortal dies, but do believe me when I say that I bear no personal grudge against you. Until we meet again, Jhøn.” He ends his speech and turns away.

“Huh, so this is what dying is like,” you mutter to yourself. In your mind, the centuries of mayhem you and Hynri have partaken in together form a story of sorts. How crazy it all has been, just to end with this bid. Well, he has always been the kind to get attached to things. “Farewell, foolish little brother.” You quietly say to him, and the last of your life force drains away.

TO BE CONTINUED

The Bid of Two Demons: Medieval Conflict

4 years ago
Is it really being continued?

Shouldn't have let you out of Hell this morning I guess...

The Bid of Two Demons: Medieval Conflict

4 years ago

At the rate I am being helled, I am sure I will have written enough content for a dozen novels in no time. Unlike my storygame in progress though, I don't see this becoming an interactive story - at least, not in the foreseeable future.

The Bid of Two Demons: Medieval Conflict

4 years ago

What are you getting Helled for? I can't keep up with the Discord during the day.

The Bid of Two Demons: The woes of Henry

4 years ago

The second part of this story is now complete. Enjoy!

Henry stares at the dead body that lays before him. In the heat of the moment, before that body was able to kill Master, Henry killed the man. That was all there was to it. Never mind the fact that it was a demon in the man’s body, nor the that the demon was none other than his elder brother. Jhøn, always too serious for his own good, just took it a notch too far - and that is all there is to it. However, losing the right to call himself by his original name matters not, and making enemies with all of demon-kind is only a minute concern. No, the real issue at hand is in the expression on Master’s face, a look of shock, and… betrayal. Not that Henry is surprised - he exposed himself for what he truly was - a demon who was not above fratricide, an enemy of not just humanity, but also an enemy of all demons.

Henry mentally chides to himself, scolding himself for ever believing that this temporary sense of belonging would ever last. Now he must leave before he ends up like his brother. With that in mind, he turns around, and begins to walk away, with no designation in mind.

“Wait!” He hears Master yell. Despite the traumatic experiences he was subjected to, he struggles to return to his feet. Perhaps Master wants to personally kill the demon, maybe for the handsome rewards offered by the Old Church, maybe as revenge. Alas, Henry had no interest in dying a fool’s death. Maybe he will somehow, someday, be able to recompense for all that has happened, but dying will not achieve that. Henry continues marching forth without looking back - even while Master orders at him to stop, even as he hears the faltering footsteps slowly approaching his general direction. He marches even when the sounds leave earshot, even when the flora becomes too dense to safely traverse. And then, only upon reaching a road, does he risk stopping for a break.

It is nearly night, the sun mere inches from vanishing. The cold wind chills him to the bone, and the growling of his stomach reminds him that he did not eat anything today - Henry has once again forgotten that humans must eat at least twice a day to remain strong and healthy. Unwilling to make a fire and unable to see clear enough to search for any edible plants, Henry climbs up a tree - onto a thick branch hanging over the road. Confident that his body can tolerate the hunger and cold for at least one mere night, he lets himself drift into a deep slumber.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

“Very well,” Hynri hears Jhøn affirm, “Two mere peasants in rural England, and nothing more.” With that, they both become wisps, searching the plains for suitable hosts. Despite the large area that needed to be covered, the search did not take long, and some more-than-suitable hosts are found; two deadbeat peasants that have never amounted to anything. Taking over their body will separate their souls from their bodies, but that’s just an afterthought. More importantly, Hynri has just discovered a potential loophole that he must close.

“Wait, Jhøn!” He booms, “No magic, and no interfering with each other’s lives!” Alas, Jhøn has inserted his host while Hynri was speaking, so it is unknown how much of the much of the warning has carried through. Oh well, Jhøn has common sense, there is no way he would break these terms. With that reassuring thought, Hynri enters his own host several miles away, allowing sleep to overtake him.

It was exactly 8 hours later that Hynri woke up, with the dawn only just beginning. Unsure of how to take care of himself, he spends the next several days desperately trying to teach himself the most basic of life skills, like how to make bread from grain - which ended with a fire that claimed his home - or which flora humans could safely eat - which ended with Hynri eating a poisonous mushroom, resulting in him collapsing on the road outside the remains of his home.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

“Oy, what the hell happened over there?!” The man commanding the wagon huffs. In the distance, the charred remains of a cottage stands - must of been the work of bandits. They were not sent to investigate this, so they were under no obligation to look - in fact, the man wanted to just continue on; time was precious, unlike the lives of these mere peasants. Alas, his passenger begged to differ.

“We are stopping by that cottage,” the passenger declared. There was absolutely nothing to gain from checking the charred cottage, but arguing with that stubborn ox was even more pointless. The sooner that they could confirm that only char and dead peasants remain, the sooner they could continue on their actual path. With nothing more to add to the discussion, they silently rode to the road leading to the cottage - where they saw a man lying on his stomach, motionless.

“See? A dead peasant. Can we go now?” The older man gruffs. The peasant had nothing of any value, so there was no reason to stick around. Time was money, and they are wasting the former while getting none of the latter.

“Oh, just relax, father,” the passenger - his son - replies. One would think that at 19 a man would know not to waste time on pointless tasks like these, but that was how he always was. However - the man was not in the mood for his son’s stubbornness.

“No, I will not relax!” He booms, “We have somewhere we need to be, but we are wasting time with this dead bastard!” for extra effect, he stabs the blade into the body - which flinches. “Well, shit,” is all he can say while looking at the writhing body.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The next several months went by quickly, with the bigger, older man slowly beginning to accept him. His son - Master - took Hynri in as a servant. It was not easy, with Hynri still needing to teach himself not only how to be a human, but also servant. Regardless, Hynri continued doing his best day by day, slowly improving his skills with each mistake. In exchange for doing the bulk of Master’s menial labor, Hynri was given room and board, and was also paid money - although the wage was admittedly meager. The work, while challenging, was also fulfilling, and in a short time, Hynri has forgotten all about the wager.

That was, until the day the cart stopped at one unsuspecting house, the day that Master’s father was melted - despite being a cold, unapproachable man, he was still part of the family - the day that Master nearly died. The day that Hynri killed Jhøn, the day that Hynri abandoned all that he knew, including his job as a servant.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Henry wakes up to the sound of a wagon approaching down the road, accompanied by the loud stomping of several horses - armored war horses, judging by the sound of them. Quickly retreating deeper into the tree, he pulls out the only weapon he has; a spell book of the Old Religion, a book that allows those of holy linage to wield powerful clerical spells. Of course, Henry is the opposite of that, the 3rd and youngest son of a family of demons - which are not only unable to wield such a book, but they  could die just carrying it. Luckily, Henry’s body must have at least some relation with the Old Religion, allowing Henry to use the spells withing the book - although the risk of exorcising himself becomes more dire depending on the power of the spells used. The spells used against Jhøn very nearly killed Henry himself, just for the sheer fact that he used such powerful magic with no prior practice…

Henry’s train of thought is stopped by the cart, now nearly to the tree. In the cart stands several extremely armored individuals, with a single man restrained inside, hood covering his head. Coming from the cart is a loud argument between the armored men and the hooded man.
“…Damn you, I… …what you are talking about!” the hooded man shouts, although Henry wasn’t able to catch all of his statement. However, there isn’t any time to fill in the blanks, he must continue his snooping.

“Oh, for the love of the Church, quit your yapping,” One of the armored men - a paladin, perhaps? - chides. “Just tell me where the demon went - unless, of course, you are the demon.” Oh, another witch hunt, nothing of importance. Henry relaxes, content to let the cart and the drama move away from him, but he couldn’t help but hear the paladin’s next statement.

“You should of let us capture that peasant, you know,” the paladin states, “See, that would of spared us work. Nobody cares about peasants.” Setting his condescending remark aside, there is no doubt to what situation he speaks of - or who the hooded man is. This simply will not do. Of course, the paladin continues. “See, now your whole family name will be ruined, all because you didn’t let us capture your damned servant. Now you both must die, and for what?” the paladin jeers. Henry tightens his grasp on the holy book - although there is no saying how effective it will be against them - and he jumps down onto the road, landing around 10 feet ahead of them.

The landing was not a soft one, but for the sake of appearance Henry manages to force himself to stand tall. “Ah, greetings.” He greets the men, who stare at him in shock. All at once, they reach for their weapons. Looks like they are smart - those are the most satisfying to kill. Anybody who attempts to harm Master will pay the price, and although it pains Henry to have to face him again, he refuses to let him die for his actions. With that thought, he looks up at the paladins.

“Well, Jhøn, I just might be able to see you soon,” he whispers to himself, and with a shout, he charges at the paladins.

TO BE CONTINUED (Once again. I seriously don’t even know how long this series will be.)