Hags and Whores

Game 2, by Ragnarok

The sky fell.

Dancing stars crashing to foul earth. It ruined my fucking sleep. No, it was the Clean one that did that, days on the road and a few acts of violence together makes the civilized bold. If only he knew of the dreams he tore me from.

Choking stone in the black, vermin scratching as I crawl. He’d be more careful if he knew how close I came to cracking his neck.

A good man, a clever man, a clean man. Not one I’d want on my conscience.

Stars, I said, specks of twirling light driven as mad as anything else we’d seen out on the road in the past days. No true stars these when you get up close, ugly maggot like things shimmering with their own dirty light and lusting for heat. We fought them, we won.

Not much else to say about that whole affair, except it fucked my sleep. Well, no more than it ever is. Why I drink so much. Speaking of which…

This is good stuff, has you pissing fire when you get into it. Not exactly fucking healthy, but who gives a shit lets me know my cocks still alive.

You don’t need to do that, it’s not why I’m here.

We came to this place after we did for the beasts in the woods, good killing out there. You ever killed? Anything at all? Insects crushed or raw balled men with a knife through their eye it’s the same sensation, a pure madness that lets you know every other moment of your waking life is sane. Only the mad can kill and only the truly fucking insane kill as well as I do. Mad for battle, practically fucking choking on the slaughter.

It just needs to be done. Fuck, that shit kicks the doors in your head fast, can bare think straight.

Then we get here and it’s all pools to cure what ails you, bullshit. I see people looking just as haggard here as anywhere else. Fucking magic cures, it’s all bollocks. We met your town hag, speaking of which, she’s trying to put right that young lasses brain hoping it’ll stop the crazing. Part of me, you know, part of me hopes that it doesn’t and the whole fucking world falls to fighting

That madness, that blood soaked battle rage where you rip and tear and hammer and howl, I’ll take it over what I deal with knowing when I’m sane,

What I remember from my dreams down in the fucking dark.

We did it though, we did it regardless. Strolled out where lessers fear to tread and fought for what can put her right. I still have the blood on my boots and my eyes sting from how it all ended up. They’re strong, the women I travel with, more balls than this towns alleged fucking men. Even Clean was there in all his finery, useless as a sack of dead mens dicks when it comes to the fist and boot, too fancy for it. Got balls though and smart. I keep telling myself to listen to them more.

That’s the problem with battle madness, you can’t play the good dog when you’re a wolf.

We’ll know tomorrow if the girl’s well. Is it wrong I don’t want her to be?

Times almost up, tell me about your day…



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