Ruinous Return

Lyn nodded as she savored the foul beverage. The Sloren had high proof stuff, and this was easily as potent as moonshine. She felt it affect her almost instantly. Damn, lost my tolerance for booze when I came back in a new body. She chuckled as she felt the warmth rush to her cheeks. "It\'s been a long time since I headbutted a Sloren."

"So, ye wanted to see Old Thane Mol. Well, I\'ll start off by welcoming you to the Thunder Hold. What did ye say yer name was?"

"Lyn Rivers," she replied as he refilled the mugs. She let her tone drop to that of the Demonic Dragon, "I am the Destroyer. I issued a proclamation not too long ago."

The Thane nodded, and when he turned back to her, she could see the well-concealed but still-present fear on his face. "And, ye be visiting us for what reason?"

"I wish to rule this world. And I want to bring the Sloren into the fold." She sipped the next mug gently, knowing she didn\'t have the same tolerance to just slam them back. And using an internal regeneration spell would be rude. Sloren valued drunken, honest discussions. "I know that in the past ten years almost all Sloren have returned to the Slor Mountains and your ancestral strongholds. Preparing for an eventual Valagonian invasion."

Thane Mol nodded and sipped his mug as well. "Aye, you got the truth of that." He took another sip and stared into her eyes. "What\'s yer proposal?"

"I have fortified the Valley of the Volcano and created much richer farms and pastureland upon the interior of the mountains. In exchange for moving your population to Lynhold, the city outside of my fortress at the base of Shiverburn Summit, you will have to provide a contingent of soldiers to help bulk out my forces."

He chuckled, "Ah, military might. Ye plan on conquering?"

"If necessary. First, I\'ll try diplomacy. But my proclamation was clear – I will crush those who stand in my way. I\'ll ruin their realms and raise them from the ashes."

"Well, that just won\'t do." He leaned back against the wall and cracked his neck as he drained his beer, refilling it for another round. "I can speak for my Hold, but not all Sloren. We want safety, aye. And this Valley you\'re claiming you fortified sounds safe enough…but we want revenge." He slammed the frothy beverage onto the counter, and the alcohol sloshed. "That Princess" his voice was filled with venom and ire and mentioning the title, "Of Valagonia must be killed. She wiped out an entire Hold\'s worth of Sloren."

Lyn didn\'t betray any emotion on her face, but that shocked her to her core. Cecily genocided a whole group of people? She knew that Cecily hated the non-Human races on Ghomar…but that was fucking atrocious. Her Destroyer core roared in her chest, and she felt the same roaring in her ears. "I\'ll fucking kill her."

What was she saying? She\'d just outright kill Cecily? It shocked her. Why would I say that? Was it the alcohol talking? As the silence between the conversation extended…she felt her Destroyer core bubbling and hissing. Closing her eyes, she focused on it. There was a feeling of…reassurance, coming from her mana core. Lyn had always disliked Cecily, the preppy bitch was looking down on the rest of the heroes post-summon, and even pre-summon she treated all of them like second-class citizens. Yeah. No. I don\'t have a problem ending her. Plus, she had the Ruler core. And Lyn would make good use of that. After all…she had a world she would have to rule.

"Good girl," Thane Mol stated as Lyn opened her eyes, breaking the silence. "I kin talk to the family heads. If you promise them revenge for Rushing Hold, they\'ll be convinced." He tapped the countertop. "I\'ll talk to them tonight when work is done. Stay upstairs, we got a few guest rooms."

Lyn nodded, "First," she raised the mug and drained it. "Let\'s celebrate. To new friends."

The Thane laughed heartily, "Then let\'s drink the good stuff. For an aspiring empress such as yerself." He reached under the counter and pulled out a crystal-clear vial of clear liquid.

What did I get myself into? Lyn thought as he poured a few shot glasses of the paint-thinner smelling liquid.

Kory scratched his prosthetic leg and felt the relief of getting rid of the itch. I must\'ve fucked up the spell was all he thought. There was no way Trisha intended for the limb to be this itchy all the time.

He was riding through Biskon with a squad of one hundred of Valagonia\'s finest. Cataphracts, all heavily armored and riding armored mounts. Kory was even gifted gorgeous, gold-limned armor by Cecily. She had forgiven him, despite his earlier actions against her lands. All things considered; he was in a good place. And in the worst-case scenario, he could run off to Fort Watch, gather his mercenaries, and go raiding and pillaging up through Trisk. Carve out his own little kingdom.

But for now, he was content. He was full of food, had plenty of wine, a gorgeous set of brand new armor, and he was on his way to bully, intimidate, and if needed – kill someone. He was busy, and his mind wasn\'t able to wander and ruminate on the horrible things he\'d done. That was the worst part of being laid up in Trisha\'s hospital…he was alone with his thoughts. Ben had confronted him and told him about his PTSD that has been just festering, but Kory\'s dad raised him differently.

"You\'re a man! Men don\'t have feelings, they don\'t have emotions! You think in Desert Storm I gave a fuck about the towel-heads that I shot?" His father took a swig from his eight can of beer that day, and crushed the can before grabbing another one. "You wanna be a man? Fucking shove that pussy-ass shit down."

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Kory took a sip from his wine skin and grinned as he swallowed down the potent, highly fortified liquid. The pleasant buzz seeped into his mind and fuzzed-out all of the memories. Dulled the world around him. So much so that he barely noticed they had entered the estate of the Duke of Biskon.

"Lord Smith, sir. We\'ve arrived."

"Alright," Kory muttered as he dismounted – stumbling slightly not due to the alcohol but due to the prosthetic – and gripped his hammer as he put the wine skin away. Walking to the doors, a pair of servants hastily opened them. He walked in like he owned the place, and was greeted by a retinue of six heavily armored knights, and on the balcony above, crossbows were trained on him. "I\'ve got a message for your Duke!" he yelled, holding up the letter. One of the knights sheathed his blade, walked forward, and held out his hand. "Take it," Kory instructed.

The man did so, and when he reached out, Kory whispered a spell under his breath. "En ethiel an le / thalion min / dautho nin helw / a bartho hain dagor." His signature Barbarian-only spell. His skin became impenetrable, and he brought Krak\'il\'to into the knight\'s side, crushing the armor into his chest cavity and sending him flying. The crossbowmen loosed bolts, and they bounced off of Kory\'s armor – not even getting past that to his skin, where his spell would have blocked them anyways. "Kill them all! And bring me the Duke!"

The soldiers behind him did not follow his orders. And Kory turned to them as another volley slammed into his back. The knights had charged forward and began swinging with mana-charged blades – but those, too bounced off of Kory. "Well? Are you going to serve Valagonia?" he asked as blows poured down on him.

"Lord Smith, we were told to deliver the letter-"

"It\'s been delivered!" Kory reached out and grabbed a knight by the wrist, squeezing and crushing the bones to dust as the man screamed. The knights continued to rain blows down on him, and he started to feel the tingle of their mana-charged blades against his skin. Got through the armor finally, eh? He turned around and swung the knight like a club, smashing the other knights aside before flinging him up at the crossbowmen. "Find the Duke, and his brat!"

Kory turned the hilt of his hammer, and lightning charged up the length. Gripping the metal string, he whirled the enormous hammer around a few times before launching it in an arc, smashing through the crossbowmen with a sickening crunch as they were all smashed into a heap. One knight in front of him backed away and began to run, and Kory was prevented from chasing the man by the other bodies in front of him. "Fine! You die too!" He pulled the hammer back and unleashed a barrage of blows upon each knight, and they crumpled to the ground.

He sprinted after the knight and the troops accompanying him slowly followed him into the estate proper. But he didn\'t care about them. He had a job to do. Catching up to the knight with several bounding steps, he grabbed the man by the shoulder, crushing the armor like a tin can. He screamed, and Kory turned him around, putting his hand on the knight\'s helmet, palming his skull like a football. "I will crush your skull. Unless you tell me where the Duke is."

"I\'ll never-"

Kory squeezed, and the man\'s head caved in with a bloody spurt. He let out a roar, "Find the Duke!"

Misty sighed heavily as she put the paintbrush down. Her most recent canvas – a massive, twenty foot by twenty foot landscape depicting the Valley of the Volcano, with Shiverburn Summit far above the dread fortress, and the heroes – not just the ten that actually survived, but all twenty, arrayed and raising their weapons in victory.

Her and Lyn were embracing in the center of the painting, and she longingly stared at the perfect recreation of her best friend. Why can\'t you be the old you? She asked the painted memory. Instead you\'re this…Duskari slut who wants to take over the world. She closed her eyes. Lyn had always been promiscuous.

"But why sleep with anyone who catches your fancy?" Misty asked as she drew on her bed in her small house. Lyn was sitting on the floor, tracing out an album cover from a stencil.

"You know the shit I went through as a kid," she stated bluntly. "At least now I get to choose who I sleep with."

Misty frowned. She knew about Lyn\'s dad abusing her. But he was friends with the sheriff, and Child Protective Services didn\'t get involved because the sheriff always kept them away with \'wellness checks\'. "Yeah, this whole fucking town is corrupt as fuck."

"That\'s why I sleep around. I get to take control of at least part of my life," Lyn replied, looking up at Misty. "Why ask?"

Back in the present, Misty opened her eyes, and traced her fingers along the painting of old Lyn. I asked because I wanted you, she silently replied to the distant memory. They had been best friends since their childhood. Ever since Lyn\'s family moved to the tiny country town. Misty and she did everything together, and her house was a refuge for Lyn after school ended.

And she had loved Lyn. Not a creepy love like Volio, always leering at her, stealing her gym clothes from her locker, or peeking in her window. She felt they had a sapphic bond. Two kindred souls. Sure, Misty wasn\'t abused, just neglected. Still traumatizing, but not nearly as bad as Lyn had it. And Misty wanted to leave that tiny town once they had their high school degrees. Get away, just the two of them. Be roommates in some bigger city. Explore those feelings. If only I could have gotten you out of that town, and you were reliant on me…and I on you.

That morning of their summoning fifteen years ago, the whole class was on the track, walking around in circles. Lyn had been abused the night before, and her mom had forced makeup on her to cover up the bruises. Then, the whole field erupted in white light, and the next thing they knew, they were all nude in front of a statue with an old man in front of it. Misty remembered looking at Lyn, absolutely floored at the number of bruises on her body.

That was our escape, she thought. But she hadn\'t been forceful about getting Lyn alone. Making sure the two of them tackled dungeons on their own or trained together. The closest she could get was training her in Elenthir, and even then, Thomas was always present for those lessons.

Thomas, she thought with venom. He slept with Lyn, despite Misty telling him that she wanted to date her. She picked up her brush, dipped it in black paint, and removed every hero from her painting except for her and Lyn. It should have just been us. Just the two of us. She felt tears in her eyes. Her best friend was gone. Truly gone. A Lyn was alive. But not her Lyn.

She stood up, and screamed at the painting, "You should have just run!" She pulled out the paint knife and slashed the part of the painting depicting the fortress. "Just fucking run like the rest of us!" She tore out the part of the canvas with her and Lyn together, and held it close to her chest, feeling the tears stream down her face as her voice choked with emotion. "You were too damn proud," she whispered through the tumultuous sorrow.

She went back to the closet. Her safe space. The close, narrow, confined darkness bringing her comfort as she isolated herself from everything in the world.

Nothing can hurt you in your safe space.