Morbit Story First Draft

Another day, you guess, walking down the sidewalk and trying not to meet anyone's gaze. Really, you suppose it's simple to avoid people's gaze when you don't have eyes. One of those unexpected perks of being an Obj. Your headcase jangles slightly as you turn to examine the shop across the street.

Your target is apparently in there. A sign in the window proclaims the store sells “High Quality Weapons”, and judging from the display in the other you're inclined to agree. A ruffneck sits behind the counter, cleaning her claws with a knife that you'd consider to be more of a machete. She glances up and notices you “looking”, and waves.

She wouldn't be waving if she knew why you were here, that's for sure.

You cross the street and head into the store, examining the weapons adorning the walls and the sign that reads “Custom Orders Available!” to try and avoid suspicion. She's definitely the one Ringer told you about, the quote unquote infidel that you're supposed to smite. Which you've always thought was a pretty pretentious way to refer to smashing someone's skull with a sledgehammer, but whatever.

Eventually, you approach the counter and sigh like something's troubling you, placing your hands behind your back. “Uh, hey, gosh, I hate to be a bother...” you begin, looking down. “But I need you to pass a message on to someone?”

She raises an eyebrow, and plunks the knife into the counter. “Uhuh? What's the message?”

“Well, see, I'm passing on a message for a friend. Could you tell Forge “suck it” next time you see him? He'll know what it means.”

She scowls and stands up. “Look pal, I don't know what this is about, but-”

You swing the hammer that materializes in your hands like you're planning to hit a home run, straight for her head. It'll be a perfect hit... until she raises a hand and a steel shield completely tanks the hit.

“You're kidding me.” She says, scowling at you and slowly pulling her knife from the table. “Forge pissed off the bellend? Great. Him and I are gonna have words.” You finally realize you have not, in fact, killed her just as she swings for you, and you barely avoid being decapitated by the oversized blade. The fight is on.

Clarity comes to you as you fall backwards from your dodge, things seeming to slow down and become clearer. You roll backwards and stand up, two warhammers materializing into your hands as she lunges over the counter and swings for your neck again. You swat the knife out of her hands with an upward swing, the weapon crashing out the window and nearly impaling a passerby.

She stares at the broken window, and at the civilians now looking through the window to what appears to be a mentally deranged obj picking a fight with an innocent shopkeep. “Okay, now I'm mad.” She says, a rather large steel broadsword materializing in her own grip. “You picked the wrong Demon to fight, motherfucker.”

You try to remember what Ringer told you as you block her barrage of swings with your hammers. She was a Demon of Forge, God of Weaponry and Hatred. His motifs were Steel and... something else that seems to evade you at the moment. So you're probably never gonna actually disarm her, just like she can't disarm you.

Her swings are relentless, though, and she's obviously skilled with the sword in her hands. Smoke billows from her mouth as she breathes heavily, and you can practically hear her heart pound in her chest. She's getting way, way too into this fight. She's riled up, and you know for a fact that fighters that get riled up make mistakes.

And as you block more attacks, one makes itself available. Her stomach is wide open, and with a mighty swing one of your warhammers smashes right into it. She keels over with a gasp of pain, and she spends a moment shaking in pain. And then, in a turn you really should have expected, she begins vomiting up blood. You could end her right here, but you know for a fact a wound like that would be fatal anyways.

But then she coughs, and rather than falling over she begins to shakily stand up, grabbing her broadsword from where it fell and glaring at you. “You son of a bitch!” She shouts, baring her blood-coated teeth. “You've done it now!”

You're too confused to react, and she takes advantage of your confusion to score a large gash across your chest, causing you to stagger back. She takes advantage of this to keep up the offensive, and you barely avoid being cut to ribbons under the withering blows.

You're not sure how she's still standing. That sort of blow would've been lethal to just about anybody! But here she is, still standing and fighting like you didn't just hit her in the gut with a warhammer. However, you can tell she's hurting. The swings are less powerful, though that's like comparing a tornado to a slightly smaller tornado. You just have to wait for another opening...

And eventually it comes again, as the blow to her stomach catches up with her and she retches again. You take this moment to smash her right arm with another hammer blow, and it goes limp. She cries out... and then the arm starts moving again, though you wince at the sounds the bones make as she does so.

“Fuck... you're not gonna win!” She says. “This isn't over!” She concentrates, and suddenly the air fills with whirring blades of solid steel, closing in on you.

Suddenly, as the blades close in, you remember something else. The reason she's still standing, the reason she's still swinging that sword of hers with a broken arm. The reason that even if you win, you're still going to die here.

Forge's motifs are Steel and Hatred. Your target's been keeping herself alive this entire time out of sheer spite for you. And you're not sure she'll even die before you're dead too...

Well, it's a good day to die, you suppose. You lunge forward, hammers raised, ready to put her in the ground with you...

And you promptly smash headfirst into the inner walls of a huge bell, sending a loud ring through it. You're about to freak out a little before you hear your god's voice in your head, soft like the jingling of bells. “Listen, Keith, I'm gonna have to call you off here. Forge and I are... well, I don't want to make him suffer anymore. Leave the girl alive.”

Before you can respond, you're back in the real world, staring down at your target on the floor. She's unconscious on the ground, and from what you can tell she's been sick again. She'll probably die soon if you don't do something.

You sigh, and sling her over your shoulder, ignoring her broken arm cracking again. Better get her to a doctor. Ringer gave you his orders, and he'll probably be pissed if you let this one die after he gave you explicit orders to leave her alive. Of course, you're also sure Forge is going to go picking a fight with Ringer again, leaving this whole thing absolutely pointless. So you'll probably be back eventually.

Another day, you guess...