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Mature Content Warning!
Both gross and sexy stuff ahead! And the first part is found here!
Have fun!

It feels as if there was a beehive in Shizame’s head, buzzing and blurring his whole mind.
An urgent need woke him up - the urgent need to grab the bucket next to him and stick his head inside to throw up. The strong stench of booze, urine and stomach-acid mixes around his poor nose and as he is kneeling there, bent over his own fluids, awaiting the next wave to come, he remembers what has caused all this...
Was it this morning or the last? What time is it? What day is it? Still there’s the heat cooking his brain and it all looks like a nebulized bad dream. He stands up to get rid of the terrible stench, doesn’t matter if he pukes another load onto the ground, that won’t be his problem any longer, Tijan is responsible for this. He has brought him here, he fucking betrayed him, had to get caught because of it.
Shizame is standing dreamy in front of the blurred bars of his cell, staring towards the little candle light that lies beyond it.                His roommate is grunting in his dream – a bad guy, not like him – one that broke three guys’ limbs yesterday afternoon as they wanted to beat him in a card game. The filthy blanked they both laid in is separated by a thin line of blood running from the guy’s jar. The polar bear has ‘lost’ a canine through the attempt to cuddle with Shizame in his sleep... At least his memory is fully functional.

“Here, Sir. He’s already woken up.” – this voice in his ears, a shadowy shape walks between him and the flame but he doesn’t care - “Hey! Shit-for-brains, step back or we hit you. I count to three, wanker, then we get you with the club. One, two... Alright then, you bought it!”

Rattling keys, the audible sound of a rusty door next to him. He can see the barrel of a gun in front of him. Then wood hits his head, his back too. The pain arouses his attention to his keepers, even when he makes clear he understands them now, the hitting won’t stop. They make him soft, violate him more and take his legs. A strong hand grabs his neck and pushes him against the iron bars in height of the waist. The pain urges him to bite the pillars of captivity, his tongue tastes the bloody flavor of iron and rust... how many must have had their fucking hands around this thing?
The beating stops suddenly, somewhere he is disappointed somehow.

“Get up! Get up you lousy piece of shit!” – he had used his arms if they weren’t tied together already... How did they manage that, he himself hasn’t even noticed how...

“Pile up! On your legs!” – another hit digs in the iron bar even further. He can’t even feel the need to fight back... must be the booze, he remembers to never have drunken so much before. His back gets whipped two more times until he is standing again. They then push him around for no good. Outside the arrest cell a familiar face is waiting for him; Solon Bagrukha – the maybe-lion-maybe-not, he’s wearing a leather coat this time, not the fine suit he had on the last time. Dark brown eyes are glancing at him in an angry manner. He seems to be very indignant about the Salva’orek.

Sol: “You have displeased this town with your presence for enough time now.”

Shiz: *gnashing his teeth* “I saved this town! I saved you all!”

Sol: “Oh of course you did. We know what you understand by this word. Guess what, we checked you during your stay here... Shizame.” – his eyes widen, the chest raging in anger to press out the fire from his lungs – “Of course we simply can’t set you free. The beast that you are, revealing to the public? I don’t think so.”

Shizame build up the sound of retching and soon does the acquainted movement to it. The Guards hold him tightly as the sheriff and/ or marshal jumps back behind the corner of a door. Fortunately he doesn’t throw up again. He rather laughs out.

Shiz: “I puked all over you, didn’t I?! That’s why you’re wearing this ugly coat! You asshole!” Tijan’s words come out of his mouth, though it feels good to have said that.

Sol: “Quiet!” – a fist hits him in the face and the laugher stops in a trickle of blood and numb jaw – “Me and my deputy have decided that the gallows is too good for such an unreliable beast. So we asked an administration which would take you until the end of your pathetic life contrary to a little compensation of your choking sounds when you strangle on a rope. I guess we will kindly visit you in your future home, and ask my friend Sinister if he could arrange a special cruel treatment for you today.” – Shizame can’t hide the shock in his face – “Ha ha, oh I’m already enjoying it. Get him into the cart!”

Tijan steps out in the morning, he leaves the bar in all but a straight line and mumbling the song that stuck from last night...                “Made me weep and moan... made me weep and moan...” - he has been kicked out by the bartender, he only could take a souvenir in form of a quarter full of whiskey in his hand – “You made me weep and moan... don’t leave me all alone... huhuhuhu, babe please don’t go... huhu hu hu.” – he takes a long sip and sits down on the wooden planks. Booze took away the cold. He didn’t realize there was someone standing next to him...

Az: “You are quite the lonely type... Who had expected after the show from yesterday?”

Tijan tilts his head around his shoulder to inspect her. The female shape of a true worrier, dressed in olive silk and strong parts of plate armor. He had seen her before, she never takes off this helmet.
Still he is sickened by her condescending comment: “You don’t seem to take someone for a date either. The opposite doesn’t help as well, does it?” - he takes another sip of the bottle... it has stopped to taste good long time ago – “I can’t get shit right! Obviously I can’t get anyone to like me... that ain’t a show. And I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’ to be nice and generous and shit but all love I can expect is from a hooker. You don’t seem to change shit about it, am I right?”

Az: “Certainly not. You have no taste, you smell, talk too much and are pugnaciously.”

Tij: “Thanks for summing it up for me, I never heard that before...” – he retorted sarcastically – “But I can’t change it, alright?! Whatever I do I can’t help it, I can’t change what I am!” – he throws the bottle on the street where it’s juices are running out into the snowy blanked.

Az: “And what would it be?”

Tij: “A fucking creep.”

Az: “You have got the eyes of a creep...”

Tij: “Ah yeah? What makes you the expert?”

Az: “I’ve slain many of them.”

Tijan breaks out in laugher, almost choking on his own breath: “Well, at least you know how to cheer them up.”

Az: “You have to leave.”

Tij: “Is this another attempt to support my already desperate mood? Or do you...”

Az: “No, I am serious. Take your little friend and get out of town!”

Tij: “He ain’t my friend, sweetheart. You saw it yourself.” – he points at his cheek, at the slightly bleeding shiner around it – “I tell you... I’ve tried it. I don’t care what you want to do with me but let him out of trouble, he has already too much to worry about.”

Az: “Who said I was going to hurt you? I told you to leave this town, it was an advice. Go and go fast or you won’t live much longer. I have to clean up the mess you two are causing along your way.”

Tij: “What the hell are you talking about?”

Az: “The only reason I restrain to cut you down this instant is because of your unknowingness, because you have no idea what you’ve done and what misfortune it is about to bring upon you. Look...” – the warrior indicates up front with the tip of her snout – “There he is, packed up like a present, ready to deliver. I suggest you climb in there by yourself and beg for god’s mercy.”

Shizame is getting brought to the prison cart they had once been in. Beyond a growing mass of shouting bystanders he can see him. They ripped off his shirt and got him a leather-muzzle, dragged by big chains like a wild animal. The cold is biting his muscles, the fair coat of his’ can’t prevent it to bite. The crowd is cheering and shouting his wrong name, not in joy or grief but of disappointment. They wanted him to hang, to get burned, to bleed, the disgusting smell of sadism is in the air and Tijan can’t stand to watch and listen any longer.
He draws his sword and runs towards them. Shizame’s real name gets down beyond all the wrong shouts. He works him through the living and spurts into the free line between cart and the Salva. “You won’t take him anywhere!” – he shouts and encounters the first guard with a kick in his stomach. The man sheathes a rapier, wanted to slice the outraged phijhkic but Tijan can dodge the attack and stick his blade through the right leg. Tijan grabs the fallen weapon and takes the wounded, screaming soldier hostage.
“Set him free, or I’ll kill him!” – The crowd cheers enthusiastically but Tijan ignores them completely. Shizame looks up from the steel sight around his mouth; his eyes neither relieved nor glad to see him.

Solon Bagrukha - on the other hand – is just pointing at one roof with a smile on his lips: “We placed a sharpshooter on this roof. He could easily shoot your brain out. Do we have to waste a bullet on your damn head, kiddo?”

Tij: “Take... Take me instead. Take me, leave him.”

Sol: “Nnnnno. We simply take you both I guess.”

One had approached from behind and hit Tijan’s head with steel-force. He goes down, in the mud, the saber falls out of his hand. Shizame lowers his sight in disappointment as the laugher growls and they start to beat the crap out of his fatuous attempt to solve all of their problems at once.
Shizame feels pity for him right now as he’s getting fucked up. He was tryin’. The poor guy, it must suck at his self-confidence. But doesn’t change a thing that all this is still his fault. He only gets what he deserves.

Sol: “Come on, get him in there. We are awaited at Sinister’s domain. Tie this wag up and throw him in the cart.”

His men shoulder the phijhkic, they have painted the snow with him... and their favorite color was red.

“You won’t do such a thing.” – a croak voice has appeared behind them. Suddenly everyone stops talking, laughing, commenting something... it turned all silent. Who appeared was a rider. The hidik below him is a black one with dark red cape and armored parts. The man who jumps off from it has got the same patterns on his clothing than his steed and it is a familiar one. The demon-hunter-clan. They came to get him after all. Below a dark mask two venomous yellow eyes are glowing. As he takes it off, the folks quiver of fear as they see a bestial face of scattered acts of pain and torment. It’s a kra’yshen, few tendons on his face form a horrible disfigured smile. This particular race shreds off their skin as a sign of strength and fear. And people are certainly afraid of him. As he steps forward they all take the double amount back.

“Oh pretty civilians, I wasn’t sent here to raise bloodshed among you. In fact I came here to spare these organs from... getting chipped.”

Sol: *shuddering* “I- I declared... I declared their fate. My- my name is the law!”

“You have no weight here, Solon! You shouldn’t forget who you’re subject to!” – the kra’yshen steps in front of Shizame, staring him lustful in the eyes – “Open his shackles.” – he demands and is followed immediately. The iron falls on the ground leaving him kneading his wrists.
The fleshless muzzle of the clan-member comes close enough so that he can smell the unpleasant stink of decay from his mouth.

“You must assure your fate, Shizame. I didn’t come here to save you from your fate. You’re still a deserter from the clan, no one can spare you from the appropriate treatment we have prepared for you. Killing the most wanted face on our pricelist won’t change much about it... but we can donate a little more time if you want it. Let’s say six months... or better; a whole year. Doesn’t make any difference to me, as your flesh will only become more delicious when it is a little sour from the long hunt...”

Shizame doesn’t get intimidated by his grotesque threats. The bestial figure steps past him and looks at the sad pile of bloody meat the guards have laid down again. “He... is he your comrade?”
“Yes, he is.” – Shizame replied drily.
The Kra’yshen retreats: “Solon, you will disburse his part of the bounty, no deed will stay unrewarded. And Shizame...” – he stops, one of his claws is pushed away from Shiz’s chest where Sorrow’s cut had left this large, deep wound – “Oh just look at what you’ve done to yourself... This fine, fair skin of yours and the soft fur... oh it’s ruined. Maybe we have to relocate; A coat will do... or a mantle perhaps.” – a dark giggle is the last that’s spoken to him.

Sol: “Sir... the bounty, you... you weren’t giving any precise detail of its worth. Maybe if I...”

“50.000” – he gives short back as he mounts his hidik and puts on the mask again.

Sol: “But... but we haven’t even this large amount of...”

“Then pledge your shabby town, Solon! Demolish it and build a monument out of it! I don’t give a shit what you do with this fucking shithole! Just pay your debt to them or else...”

Solon gulps because of his unspoken words. The demon hunter soon gallops out of sight, leaving them all speechless.
Shizame is the only one who even dares moving again. He shoulders Tijan’s weak, bleeding body and turns to the sheriff with some joy in his voice: “Now, Solon... 50 thousand, right? Lead me to your finest flats this place has to offer.”

“You know Shizame...” – Tijan says from a shoulder, blood dropping from his smile – “I really appreciate this...” – he is panting with every step on the staircase inside the hotel – “After all you’ve done for me I... didn’t want to get you mad, but...”

Shiz: “What... is it?” – he reached the upper floor, a girl is leading them to their room.

Tij: *whispering* “I was able to walk.”

He throws him from his shoulders and Tijan hit the ground with a grunt and clatter...

Tij: “Uh, Shiz’? My legs... I can’t feel them anymore. Can you drag me the last few meters... Shiz’?”

This apartment is the very best this place has to offer – it is the only one they were attested to consider it appropriate for their accomplishments. A very comfortable flat that is. The interior screams ‘wild-hut’ though. Pelts everywhere – smells like poaching. A great bookshelf, a large couch and leather seats in front of a wonderful fireplace which Tijan immediately crawls to. So warm, so... good!
Shizame claimed the bed in the next room for himself, Tijan has to sleep on the couch – who doesn’t complain... not anymore.

After she had shown them the apartment – the girl was overly courteous to her affluent guests – she encountered them with some advertisements: “If you feel the taste for it – I want to politely remind you in our bath house- and fresh-caught shrimp offering.”

Shiz: “Bath house, you say?”

Tij: “Shrimps, you say?”

Being rich wasn’t the highest priority in his life, but experiencing it makes some things so much easier. So goes for the bath-house. Due to Shizame’s secluded lifestyle, he hasn’t enjoyed the whole serenity of a public path-house ever before, so now that he has the money... he simply rented all the obtainable baths they had and is enjoying the time he got for relaxing in pure isolation. Just him, the warmth, a fancy gum duck and enough soap to get his hair all fluffy again.
As he sinks into the steaming pod he watches all the dirt he collected and the softening blood-crusts all over his body. He made himself sure that no one will come in and interfere with his - almost meditating – atmosphere; Tijan is heavily engaged with the food (he, himself brought some sweets too), and he paid extra money to the stuff members not to let anyone in.
One full year free from the paranoia of fleeing from the demon-slayer-clan. These words sound like sugar. He can’t stop thinking about them and tasting the sweetness on his tongue. All that’s left is his damn collar, Red Eye will know. He knows where to get another one and prevent the curse from spreading. With all the money it should be no problem to rent a carriage to Hopesville, or even a hidik if his crouch has recovered.
Out of the sudden it all seems to change to the good side, his luck that finally arrived. Tijan can go now, can live his life, he will do so himself - leave him and this place with all its inhabitants.
He dives in till the water floods his ear-channels and starts scrubbing the soap into his hair. He can feel it sliding at his back, move towards the sides up to the arms, scrubbing, scrubbing it with the soap and sliding it all nice and straight.
He spent perhaps 1-2 hours in the water until he got tired to refill it with hot buckets from the fireplace. Once out, his animal instincts shaking most of the water away from him, though he will lie down next to the fire place with a towel wrapped over his neck to dry him completely.
Till even the last drop from his fur has sunk down into his skin another hour has passed and the crumby folds from his fingers have disappeared. His hair is all plushy and soft now. He steps into the legs of light grey pants and shirt and deregistered himself with the staff.

At the first steps of the wooden staircase he heard an undeniable sound from the upper floor. As he is going up he more and more realized where it only could come from...
The rhythmically groaning and moaning of a young woman... of course he would, what else is this lousy dope named Tijan capable of?
He wants to turn back and go far away. Why should he deal with it for only one second longer? Why keep getting irritated by his close-minded behavior when he could already be on his way to Hopesville? His dark thoughts tremble in the shadow of those nasty fucking-sounds as he stood still in front of this door. He can hear them reaching the top. Shizame could’ve waited a little longer to spare him from this humiliating sight... but he decides to gatecrash the party and play the surprised type.

Shiz: “Alright, what the fuck?!”

His expectation leads him towards his bed, but stopped half-way as he saw a fair-figure raising from behind the couch... at least he has some decency after all. Shizame is staring at a hybrid’s face of both a bunny and a mouse. Her pointed snout turns at him as the big ears wiggle in the movement. Her half-closed rose eyes on top of the - in between the moaning stiffened – mouth is well showing that she was or still is in the heat state of lustful pleasure. Even though her eyes have already focused him, she seems to realize him only now. She licks her libs with a little pink tongue and raises an even smaller smile as she’s leaning on the backside of the couch, hiding her – presumably large breasts – from his sight. Her fur is a snow-white mix of clouds and feathers, like a bed you want to sleep in, what is such an angel doing in a place like this beyond people like him and doing such a job?

“Well hello you there, Salva... Wanna tell me your name?“ – her mouse-tail is lifting behind her shoulders as she giggles warmly – “Lost your tongue, sugar? Tijan...” – she turns her head back down on the couch – “Won’t you introduce me to your friend?” – she bounces wherever she’s sitting on and Tijan gives out a shriek. The pale body of hers is moving a little to the side and Tijan’s head appeared from the couch’s arm. First his horns, his glowing eyes and then this old-fashioned smile of his’, laying in exhaustion.

Tij: “Jelice, my dear... this is Shizame – Shizame, my friend... this is Jelice - professional. You have to try her she has so great endurance...”

Jel: “Nice to meet you, Shizame. Be sure to follow your friend’s gesture... I have still space for one more.” – her cute eyes give him a blink.

And he hesitates to answer. All anger was lost in sight of this beauty. He remembers just how hungry he had been, but can’t admit his weakness. He just leaves them with a lost glance in front of him and goes straight into his room, not daring to look back and with an itch in his crotch to hold down. He just has to resist... he has to! Because this is still Deviantart, and I couldn’t let him even if I wanted to.
Well fuck it...

Tij: “Oh gosh your hair! What have you done to it - looks so fluffy!”

The afternoon went mostly uneventful. A good massage, a bath accompanied with several delicatessens from around town on Tijan’s side and Shizame’s attempts to arrange a carriage planned for tomorrow morning. But there was still some time left and this place hasn’t much in store to past time. So the idea came to mind to speak a little with Tijan about what he’s planned to do. The phijhkic suggested to follow the simplest joy of managing ones money... shopping!
Hurst’s Statue had one single place to get some military supplies. It sells mostly second-hand- and imported stuff from the east. Both chose what they thought was the best fitting.
Shizame’s new armor had been the one of a shield-worrier; highly hard-faced on his right side but still light enough for him to be quick on his feet. The color matches his style as well. A new sword with copper-made hilt and waved blade is what came closest to his lost one.
Tijan – however – treasured a very different aspect of his clothing; it has to be warm inside... He bought an olive coat - large, soft and warm – and some legguards for... well... any protection. Also some scarfs, one to close the open collar and the other one to hide his cut-ear-spot, a golden gunslinger-bandolier and a nice holster for his beloved six-gun. All concluded with a – weirdly – wide-bladed sword on his back.

Or for all who cannot imagine this...

They enjoyed rummaging through new things. It would be the last day they spend together and there’s no way that could change. Their characteristics would be too different to continue in accompaniment... but it doesn’t have to end in only a leave-taking. Shizame made the unthinkable step forward to his friend and asked him to go out for a beer and a discussion under more calm circumstances. He swore not to hit him again – if he behaved. Tijan was fluttered and accepted the offer.

The only bar in this town. Ay lot of people visiting at dusk. They ignore them whispering and glancing in all kinds of expressions from angry to nervous and even friendly. Some beg them for ‘a little’ money or a round on their account for ‘some nice friends’. Shiz’ and Tijan walk by without bothering. The waitress is just collecting empty cups as they sit down in a corner of their own and order two beer. It’s where their companionship had started – in shackles – four days ago. What a good place it is to let it end, or isn’t it?
Shizame had spared it for himself, but now he’s telling him about his plan to leave town tomorrow. Tijan doesn’t seem to be anyhow surprised. “I thought so myself.” – he said sedated – “It was clear that you wanted to go alone by now. We have our own things to care about after all.”
Shizame smiles for the first time today... how catching as it spreads in relief, like a stone had fallen from his heart. “Still we have seen some really fucked up shit. Reminds me... to a story myself...”
And so they began to exchange some stories. Chuckle and laugh upon bad experiences and each other’s agitated lives. Also their plans; Shizame, who wants to visit an old friend where he hopes to find him. And Tijan’s; to find a nice place to sit back and find peace from all the guys hunting him. This here was a right start - he said – but just a little too warm for his own good. Maybe he can come together with Jelice, go somewhere, get old, wouldn’t be the first hooker he fell in love to. If it was really love he feels, or only tiredness.
Yes... they could’ve talked all night if there wasn’t something left to come...

Some muffled sound through the wooden walls and people wondered. The windows go up in a red as they run towards them. “What is it? I can’t see...” – one shouted. And they turn their heads to the window.
“Fire, fire! All folks go outside, the sheriff’s house’s on fire!” – “You got to be kidding!”

We have a situation...

“Hey folks!” – the bartender said to the talking couple in the corner – “Go get some buckets, get water from the river and help with the fire. It’s conscription law!”
They drink out their cups in seconds and rush out on the orange dyed streets.

“Have you seen what caused it?” – someone asked in the shadows . “No... no, god... where- where is Emmy with the goddamn buckets?!”
Up on top the building is a large, burning hole, the fire is spreading vastly over the straw-covered roof. The cold doesn’t hold it back, not much. “A lightning!” – some boy yelled as he runs over the street –“ It was a lightning! I saw it, came outta nowhere!”
A lightning... Shizame thinks, can’t be... it can’t be the same?! The avalanche?

His apprehensions lay beyond fear, they are tormented. A strange paranoia, he last felt before the lightning hit that mountain. And the dark memory of one’s Sorrow.

Suddenly a figure appears in between the raging fires, doesn’t seem to bother the heat at all and there’s something dragging behind it... The bipedal creature steps forward to the rim of cracking framework, raising an arm that’s holding a burnt corpse... that’s somehow still living! People who were racing towards the river are stopping and turning their heads up to the sight. Lights glowing on its body attached to its back, legs and arms and linked with strange wires all around it. Then suddenly its eyes go white and the sharp blade of a spear is catching shocks in his right. The burnt corpse is thrown in the air and soon followed by a sharp light, catching and blowing it into steaming pieces that fall all over the crowd.

Is this a god? Is this how the gods kill ?

Shizame immediately unsheathes his swords while others flee by the messy particles the air is filled with. The creature from up top looks down on the few who stood, the drunk, the hungry for reputation and their very own 50.000s. It gives off a light grunt as it steps off the rim and lands in the dirt, 20m in front of them. That thing is huge, about 10feet in total, its face is hidden below a muzzle with also glowing – unidentifiable - parts and devises. Its tail, though, the hooves and the large horns indicate it to be a bloodkin.

The first, brave – but stupid – attacker happens to be a young nodraec, wielding his broadsword with furious initiative and thirst for action. The poor idiot is soon stopped as it blocks the blade and digs into the man’s bowel with an open claw... to rip out everything he could find hold on. Even though it was a short contact, the almost rapidly screaming kid sunk down, smoking and dead.

Tij: “Hah! Who’s next? You, you?” – Tijan commented in desperate joy from the backmost, also drawing his sword.

Shiz: “What, you still got your shooting-iron, don’t you?” – Shizame doesn’t take a single cautious eye off the beast.

Tij: “That thing is useless without ammunition, you know. And this forsaken place has no powder to sell.”

A blast from the front and another hopeless one is being ripped apart. One bites the dust and leaves the battlefield in fear, he is being ignored by the seemingly rampant anger this one is emitting. He steps towards them with awkward lightness and shaking in his legs, as if they were in constant pain. The next serious attender in this deadly game is hit by a lightning and pushed back in the bar’s window. Another’s blocking attempt is useless, the light-blade cuts right through the cold steel. The bloodkin is going faster; His next victim doesn’t even die from the wound he inflicted just yet. There’s a fire burning in its eyes and they seem to be focused on Shizame who more and more loosens hope to win this fight... he doesn’t even know what to do against this thing.
“This is a bad idea, pal.” – is whispered in his ear – “if we ran now, maybe we could escape...”
The light is so dangerously close now and within them a shadow is rising.

Tij: “Alright then. Know if it gets too hot, I’ll go though.”

Right there when this monstrosity wanted to stab the wandering salva, Tijan arches around him and lands a surprising cut through the thin, blue silk surrounding most body parts. Harsh moaning sounds behind the steel muzzle, the blow became unprecise and Shizame could block it fortunately. As the blade slides over his head he can feel the buzzing little shocks around it and the enormous heat they produce. His own hands are shaking from the immediate vibrations from his blades touching the spear. A step to the side and with a quick move Shizame was able to slide the sharp edge over an appearing arm. Muffled screams behind his back as Shizame grows distance to their foe. Three of the belligerents are still alive and now surrounding the wounded beast. But before even one could start an attack, the bloodkin’s devices start to lighten up. Little sparks erupt from the cables and the whole body goes up in lightning strikes... a strong roaring as the shocks go in every direction, heating up the ground, the air until they hit all of their bodies at once and let them fall back... Shizame feels his chest exploding... then sight goes black.

As he opens his eyes again, the bar behind the beast is going up in flames, wild horrible screams of a burning one is audible in the back, from down here he looks much more frightening. A hot, black hand is groping his throat and lifts his whole body into the air. Shizame finds his hands back, tries to demolish the skin with his fingers, but can’t, those white eyes are staring right into his own then a very different pain starts aching his veins... an inner sting into all of his nerves. And a voice in his head, a familiar one: the young girl he once wanted to protect... Takita.

“Have you already forgotten my last words? I said – as you were sticking this gun against my temple and shoot my brain out – I will win anyway. Have you thought, I’d let my plans stay unfolded just like this? Your suffering has just begun, my son Zentsuken will take you with him now... to me, to us, where we will begin the end...”

Right after the voice fades away, the heat amongst his throat raises. The strong hand is sending shocks through his nerves. His muscles twitch in spasms, the blood is boiling and the lungs coughing and choking at a time. His eyes search salvation in the black night, they think they could find it.

Then suddenly the grip loosens, the mud is like snow, ice-cold and soft. On top of him Sorrow’s son is screaming out, dark blood is pouring down. A sharpshooter’s shot broke the muzzle around his mouth and ripped off a part of his nose. Raging, clawing all around to find who did this. Shizame rolls over to dodge the stomps and kicking. In his rage Zentsuken throws a lightning into the large bell tower, where it breaks and falls down in unbelievable loud shutter of falling walls, turning this place into a thick layer of dust and ashes.
The burning building to his sides guide him through the cloud, the cursing voice helps him to avoid any more contact with the demon.

Zen: “MOTHER! Why have you done this to me?! Let the pain stop! Let it stop! LET IT STOP!”

He can hear steps next to him, groaning, a survivor? Tijan? Another lightning strikes and the figure turns into a smoking mass of blown flesh. Even the hot blood on his cheek is cold compared to the electricity that’s still running inside his veins. The hysterical screaming has ended. Steps. Now it’s over... it’s all done for!
But the hand that grabs him this time is made of cold steel. Dragging him in an alley, slapping his face.

“Do you see the results of your actions now, cursed?” – he blinks burnt wood out of his eyes and looks into a steel- mask. The stranger dragging him lets her voice sound again: “Go to the river, find your friend, follow the river.”

“W- wait...” – Shizame wanted to say, but there she disappeared again, walking through the befogged mix of dust and bleak fire. His chest is hurting badly, but he can walk, with a little help. He follows the wooden frontage until the sight is clearing and he can see the landscape behind the large river. He stumbles into the water, it is so cold, he takes it to his burning chest to ease the pain.
Now... what? What now, they’re all dead... Behind him another building is going up in flames after a lightning hit it. He can determine the desperate screams of their inhabitants, the fear or pain they’re into. They’re all dead... doesn’t matter what happens... they won’t escape their fate. One way or another.

“Shizame!” – Tijan is screaming from a boat, alone and dark – “Shizame, over here!” – his glowing eyes lead him.

Fuck the cold! Shizame jumps into the river and starts swimming in his armor, not seeing where he swims to or what he’s reaching for...
A slick rope helps him onboard... a little fishing boat, no one but him on it. Did really no one else make it? It can’t be!
The river is flowing, in their backs the large clouds of black smoke and smoldering homes.

Next Part

.....................................................................................................................................

This is for you! I decided to speed up and make this a Christmas present.
For the unknowing: Shizame as well as Zentsuken reside with him, even though I made some major changes to the latter's appearance, forgive me.
This is actually the second time I did Zen... I remember it was a year from now... deadbird-hushabye.deviantart.c…

Made with Krita and the Wacom Intuos pen & touch medium.
Also using David Revoy's brush kit for Krita

Description

Mature Content Warning!
Both gross and sexy stuff ahead! And the first part is found here!
Have fun!

It feels as if there was a beehive in Shizame’s head, buzzing and blurring his whole mind.
An urgent need woke him up - the urgent need to grab the bucket next to him and stick his head inside to throw up. The strong stench of booze, urine and stomach-acid mixes around his poor nose and as he is kneeling there, bent over his own fluids, awaiting the next wave to come, he remembers what has caused all this...
Was it this morning or the last? What time is it? What day is it? Still there’s the heat cooking his brain and it all looks like a nebulized bad dream. He stands up to get rid of the terrible stench, doesn’t matter if he pukes another load onto the ground, that won’t be his problem any longer, Tijan is responsible for this. He has brought him here, he fucking betrayed him, had to get caught because of it.
Shizame is standing dreamy in front of the blurred bars of his cell, staring towards the little candle light that lies beyond it.                His roommate is grunting in his dream – a bad guy, not like him – one that broke three guys’ limbs yesterday afternoon as they wanted to beat him in a card game. The filthy blanked they both laid in is separated by a thin line of blood running from the guy’s jar. The polar bear has ‘lost’ a canine through the attempt to cuddle with Shizame in his sleep... At least his memory is fully functional.

“Here, Sir. He’s already woken up.” – this voice in his ears, a shadowy shape walks between him and the flame but he doesn’t care - “Hey! Shit-for-brains, step back or we hit you. I count to three, wanker, then we get you with the club. One, two... Alright then, you bought it!”

Rattling keys, the audible sound of a rusty door next to him. He can see the barrel of a gun in front of him. Then wood hits his head, his back too. The pain arouses his attention to his keepers, even when he makes clear he understands them now, the hitting won’t stop. They make him soft, violate him more and take his legs. A strong hand grabs his neck and pushes him against the iron bars in height of the waist. The pain urges him to bite the pillars of captivity, his tongue tastes the bloody flavor of iron and rust... how many must have had their fucking hands around this thing?
The beating stops suddenly, somewhere he is disappointed somehow.

“Get up! Get up you lousy piece of shit!” – he had used his arms if they weren’t tied together already... How did they manage that, he himself hasn’t even noticed how...

“Pile up! On your legs!” – another hit digs in the iron bar even further. He can’t even feel the need to fight back... must be the booze, he remembers to never have drunken so much before. His back gets whipped two more times until he is standing again. They then push him around for no good. Outside the arrest cell a familiar face is waiting for him; Solon Bagrukha – the maybe-lion-maybe-not, he’s wearing a leather coat this time, not the fine suit he had on the last time. Dark brown eyes are glancing at him in an angry manner. He seems to be very indignant about the Salva’orek.

Sol: “You have displeased this town with your presence for enough time now.”

Shiz: *gnashing his teeth* “I saved this town! I saved you all!”

Sol: “Oh of course you did. We know what you understand by this word. Guess what, we checked you during your stay here... Shizame.” – his eyes widen, the chest raging in anger to press out the fire from his lungs – “Of course we simply can’t set you free. The beast that you are, revealing to the public? I don’t think so.”

Shizame build up the sound of retching and soon does the acquainted movement to it. The Guards hold him tightly as the sheriff and/ or marshal jumps back behind the corner of a door. Fortunately he doesn’t throw up again. He rather laughs out.

Shiz: “I puked all over you, didn’t I?! That’s why you’re wearing this ugly coat! You asshole!” Tijan’s words come out of his mouth, though it feels good to have said that.

Sol: “Quiet!” – a fist hits him in the face and the laugher stops in a trickle of blood and numb jaw – “Me and my deputy have decided that the gallows is too good for such an unreliable beast. So we asked an administration which would take you until the end of your pathetic life contrary to a little compensation of your choking sounds when you strangle on a rope. I guess we will kindly visit you in your future home, and ask my friend Sinister if he could arrange a special cruel treatment for you today.” – Shizame can’t hide the shock in his face – “Ha ha, oh I’m already enjoying it. Get him into the cart!”

Tijan steps out in the morning, he leaves the bar in all but a straight line and mumbling the song that stuck from last night...                “Made me weep and moan... made me weep and moan...” - he has been kicked out by the bartender, he only could take a souvenir in form of a quarter full of whiskey in his hand – “You made me weep and moan... don’t leave me all alone... huhuhuhu, babe please don’t go... huhu hu hu.” – he takes a long sip and sits down on the wooden planks. Booze took away the cold. He didn’t realize there was someone standing next to him...

Az: “You are quite the lonely type... Who had expected after the show from yesterday?”

Tijan tilts his head around his shoulder to inspect her. The female shape of a true worrier, dressed in olive silk and strong parts of plate armor. He had seen her before, she never takes off this helmet.
Still he is sickened by her condescending comment: “You don’t seem to take someone for a date either. The opposite doesn’t help as well, does it?” - he takes another sip of the bottle... it has stopped to taste good long time ago – “I can’t get shit right! Obviously I can’t get anyone to like me... that ain’t a show. And I’m tryin’, I’m tryin’ to be nice and generous and shit but all love I can expect is from a hooker. You don’t seem to change shit about it, am I right?”

Az: “Certainly not. You have no taste, you smell, talk too much and are pugnaciously.”

Tij: “Thanks for summing it up for me, I never heard that before...” – he retorted sarcastically – “But I can’t change it, alright?! Whatever I do I can’t help it, I can’t change what I am!” – he throws the bottle on the street where it’s juices are running out into the snowy blanked.

Az: “And what would it be?”

Tij: “A fucking creep.”

Az: “You have got the eyes of a creep...”

Tij: “Ah yeah? What makes you the expert?”

Az: “I’ve slain many of them.”

Tijan breaks out in laugher, almost choking on his own breath: “Well, at least you know how to cheer them up.”

Az: “You have to leave.”

Tij: “Is this another attempt to support my already desperate mood? Or do you...”

Az: “No, I am serious. Take your little friend and get out of town!”

Tij: “He ain’t my friend, sweetheart. You saw it yourself.” – he points at his cheek, at the slightly bleeding shiner around it – “I tell you... I’ve tried it. I don’t care what you want to do with me but let him out of trouble, he has already too much to worry about.”

Az: “Who said I was going to hurt you? I told you to leave this town, it was an advice. Go and go fast or you won’t live much longer. I have to clean up the mess you two are causing along your way.”

Tij: “What the hell are you talking about?”

Az: “The only reason I restrain to cut you down this instant is because of your unknowingness, because you have no idea what you’ve done and what misfortune it is about to bring upon you. Look...” – the warrior indicates up front with the tip of her snout – “There he is, packed up like a present, ready to deliver. I suggest you climb in there by yourself and beg for god’s mercy.”

Shizame is getting brought to the prison cart they had once been in. Beyond a growing mass of shouting bystanders he can see him. They ripped off his shirt and got him a leather-muzzle, dragged by big chains like a wild animal. The cold is biting his muscles, the fair coat of his’ can’t prevent it to bite. The crowd is cheering and shouting his wrong name, not in joy or grief but of disappointment. They wanted him to hang, to get burned, to bleed, the disgusting smell of sadism is in the air and Tijan can’t stand to watch and listen any longer.
He draws his sword and runs towards them. Shizame’s real name gets down beyond all the wrong shouts. He works him through the living and spurts into the free line between cart and the Salva. “You won’t take him anywhere!” – he shouts and encounters the first guard with a kick in his stomach. The man sheathes a rapier, wanted to slice the outraged phijhkic but Tijan can dodge the attack and stick his blade through the right leg. Tijan grabs the fallen weapon and takes the wounded, screaming soldier hostage.
“Set him free, or I’ll kill him!” – The crowd cheers enthusiastically but Tijan ignores them completely. Shizame looks up from the steel sight around his mouth; his eyes neither relieved nor glad to see him.

Solon Bagrukha - on the other hand – is just pointing at one roof with a smile on his lips: “We placed a sharpshooter on this roof. He could easily shoot your brain out. Do we have to waste a bullet on your damn head, kiddo?”

Tij: “Take... Take me instead. Take me, leave him.”

Sol: “Nnnnno. We simply take you both I guess.”

One had approached from behind and hit Tijan’s head with steel-force. He goes down, in the mud, the saber falls out of his hand. Shizame lowers his sight in disappointment as the laugher growls and they start to beat the crap out of his fatuous attempt to solve all of their problems at once.
Shizame feels pity for him right now as he’s getting fucked up. He was tryin’. The poor guy, it must suck at his self-confidence. But doesn’t change a thing that all this is still his fault. He only gets what he deserves.

Sol: “Come on, get him in there. We are awaited at Sinister’s domain. Tie this wag up and throw him in the cart.”

His men shoulder the phijhkic, they have painted the snow with him... and their favorite color was red.

“You won’t do such a thing.” – a croak voice has appeared behind them. Suddenly everyone stops talking, laughing, commenting something... it turned all silent. Who appeared was a rider. The hidik below him is a black one with dark red cape and armored parts. The man who jumps off from it has got the same patterns on his clothing than his steed and it is a familiar one. The demon-hunter-clan. They came to get him after all. Below a dark mask two venomous yellow eyes are glowing. As he takes it off, the folks quiver of fear as they see a bestial face of scattered acts of pain and torment. It’s a kra’yshen, few tendons on his face form a horrible disfigured smile. This particular race shreds off their skin as a sign of strength and fear. And people are certainly afraid of him. As he steps forward they all take the double amount back.

“Oh pretty civilians, I wasn’t sent here to raise bloodshed among you. In fact I came here to spare these organs from... getting chipped.”

Sol: *shuddering* “I- I declared... I declared their fate. My- my name is the law!”

“You have no weight here, Solon! You shouldn’t forget who you’re subject to!” – the kra’yshen steps in front of Shizame, staring him lustful in the eyes – “Open his shackles.” – he demands and is followed immediately. The iron falls on the ground leaving him kneading his wrists.
The fleshless muzzle of the clan-member comes close enough so that he can smell the unpleasant stink of decay from his mouth.

“You must assure your fate, Shizame. I didn’t come here to save you from your fate. You’re still a deserter from the clan, no one can spare you from the appropriate treatment we have prepared for you. Killing the most wanted face on our pricelist won’t change much about it... but we can donate a little more time if you want it. Let’s say six months... or better; a whole year. Doesn’t make any difference to me, as your flesh will only become more delicious when it is a little sour from the long hunt...”

Shizame doesn’t get intimidated by his grotesque threats. The bestial figure steps past him and looks at the sad pile of bloody meat the guards have laid down again. “He... is he your comrade?”
“Yes, he is.” – Shizame replied drily.
The Kra’yshen retreats: “Solon, you will disburse his part of the bounty, no deed will stay unrewarded. And Shizame...” – he stops, one of his claws is pushed away from Shiz’s chest where Sorrow’s cut had left this large, deep wound – “Oh just look at what you’ve done to yourself... This fine, fair skin of yours and the soft fur... oh it’s ruined. Maybe we have to relocate; A coat will do... or a mantle perhaps.” – a dark giggle is the last that’s spoken to him.

Sol: “Sir... the bounty, you... you weren’t giving any precise detail of its worth. Maybe if I...”

“50.000” – he gives short back as he mounts his hidik and puts on the mask again.

Sol: “But... but we haven’t even this large amount of...”

“Then pledge your shabby town, Solon! Demolish it and build a monument out of it! I don’t give a shit what you do with this fucking shithole! Just pay your debt to them or else...”

Solon gulps because of his unspoken words. The demon hunter soon gallops out of sight, leaving them all speechless.
Shizame is the only one who even dares moving again. He shoulders Tijan’s weak, bleeding body and turns to the sheriff with some joy in his voice: “Now, Solon... 50 thousand, right? Lead me to your finest flats this place has to offer.”

“You know Shizame...” – Tijan says from a shoulder, blood dropping from his smile – “I really appreciate this...” – he is panting with every step on the staircase inside the hotel – “After all you’ve done for me I... didn’t want to get you mad, but...”

Shiz: “What... is it?” – he reached the upper floor, a girl is leading them to their room.

Tij: *whispering* “I was able to walk.”

He throws him from his shoulders and Tijan hit the ground with a grunt and clatter...

Tij: “Uh, Shiz’? My legs... I can’t feel them anymore. Can you drag me the last few meters... Shiz’?”

This apartment is the very best this place has to offer – it is the only one they were attested to consider it appropriate for their accomplishments. A very comfortable flat that is. The interior screams ‘wild-hut’ though. Pelts everywhere – smells like poaching. A great bookshelf, a large couch and leather seats in front of a wonderful fireplace which Tijan immediately crawls to. So warm, so... good!
Shizame claimed the bed in the next room for himself, Tijan has to sleep on the couch – who doesn’t complain... not anymore.

After she had shown them the apartment – the girl was overly courteous to her affluent guests – she encountered them with some advertisements: “If you feel the taste for it – I want to politely remind you in our bath house- and fresh-caught shrimp offering.”

Shiz: “Bath house, you say?”

Tij: “Shrimps, you say?”

Being rich wasn’t the highest priority in his life, but experiencing it makes some things so much easier. So goes for the bath-house. Due to Shizame’s secluded lifestyle, he hasn’t enjoyed the whole serenity of a public path-house ever before, so now that he has the money... he simply rented all the obtainable baths they had and is enjoying the time he got for relaxing in pure isolation. Just him, the warmth, a fancy gum duck and enough soap to get his hair all fluffy again.
As he sinks into the steaming pod he watches all the dirt he collected and the softening blood-crusts all over his body. He made himself sure that no one will come in and interfere with his - almost meditating – atmosphere; Tijan is heavily engaged with the food (he, himself brought some sweets too), and he paid extra money to the stuff members not to let anyone in.
One full year free from the paranoia of fleeing from the demon-slayer-clan. These words sound like sugar. He can’t stop thinking about them and tasting the sweetness on his tongue. All that’s left is his damn collar, Red Eye will know. He knows where to get another one and prevent the curse from spreading. With all the money it should be no problem to rent a carriage to Hopesville, or even a hidik if his crouch has recovered.
Out of the sudden it all seems to change to the good side, his luck that finally arrived. Tijan can go now, can live his life, he will do so himself - leave him and this place with all its inhabitants.
He dives in till the water floods his ear-channels and starts scrubbing the soap into his hair. He can feel it sliding at his back, move towards the sides up to the arms, scrubbing, scrubbing it with the soap and sliding it all nice and straight.
He spent perhaps 1-2 hours in the water until he got tired to refill it with hot buckets from the fireplace. Once out, his animal instincts shaking most of the water away from him, though he will lie down next to the fire place with a towel wrapped over his neck to dry him completely.
Till even the last drop from his fur has sunk down into his skin another hour has passed and the crumby folds from his fingers have disappeared. His hair is all plushy and soft now. He steps into the legs of light grey pants and shirt and deregistered himself with the staff.

At the first steps of the wooden staircase he heard an undeniable sound from the upper floor. As he is going up he more and more realized where it only could come from...
The rhythmically groaning and moaning of a young woman... of course he would, what else is this lousy dope named Tijan capable of?
He wants to turn back and go far away. Why should he deal with it for only one second longer? Why keep getting irritated by his close-minded behavior when he could already be on his way to Hopesville? His dark thoughts tremble in the shadow of those nasty fucking-sounds as he stood still in front of this door. He can hear them reaching the top. Shizame could’ve waited a little longer to spare him from this humiliating sight... but he decides to gatecrash the party and play the surprised type.

Shiz: “Alright, what the fuck?!”

His expectation leads him towards his bed, but stopped half-way as he saw a fair-figure raising from behind the couch... at least he has some decency after all. Shizame is staring at a hybrid’s face of both a bunny and a mouse. Her pointed snout turns at him as the big ears wiggle in the movement. Her half-closed rose eyes on top of the - in between the moaning stiffened – mouth is well showing that she was or still is in the heat state of lustful pleasure. Even though her eyes have already focused him, she seems to realize him only now. She licks her libs with a little pink tongue and raises an even smaller smile as she’s leaning on the backside of the couch, hiding her – presumably large breasts – from his sight. Her fur is a snow-white mix of clouds and feathers, like a bed you want to sleep in, what is such an angel doing in a place like this beyond people like him and doing such a job?

“Well hello you there, Salva... Wanna tell me your name?“ – her mouse-tail is lifting behind her shoulders as she giggles warmly – “Lost your tongue, sugar? Tijan...” – she turns her head back down on the couch – “Won’t you introduce me to your friend?” – she bounces wherever she’s sitting on and Tijan gives out a shriek. The pale body of hers is moving a little to the side and Tijan’s head appeared from the couch’s arm. First his horns, his glowing eyes and then this old-fashioned smile of his’, laying in exhaustion.

Tij: “Jelice, my dear... this is Shizame – Shizame, my friend... this is Jelice - professional. You have to try her she has so great endurance...”

Jel: “Nice to meet you, Shizame. Be sure to follow your friend’s gesture... I have still space for one more.” – her cute eyes give him a blink.

And he hesitates to answer. All anger was lost in sight of this beauty. He remembers just how hungry he had been, but can’t admit his weakness. He just leaves them with a lost glance in front of him and goes straight into his room, not daring to look back and with an itch in his crotch to hold down. He just has to resist... he has to! Because this is still Deviantart, and I couldn’t let him even if I wanted to.
Well fuck it...

Tij: “Oh gosh your hair! What have you done to it - looks so fluffy!”

The afternoon went mostly uneventful. A good massage, a bath accompanied with several delicatessens from around town on Tijan’s side and Shizame’s attempts to arrange a carriage planned for tomorrow morning. But there was still some time left and this place hasn’t much in store to past time. So the idea came to mind to speak a little with Tijan about what he’s planned to do. The phijhkic suggested to follow the simplest joy of managing ones money... shopping!
Hurst’s Statue had one single place to get some military supplies. It sells mostly second-hand- and imported stuff from the east. Both chose what they thought was the best fitting.
Shizame’s new armor had been the one of a shield-worrier; highly hard-faced on his right side but still light enough for him to be quick on his feet. The color matches his style as well. A new sword with copper-made hilt and waved blade is what came closest to his lost one.
Tijan – however – treasured a very different aspect of his clothing; it has to be warm inside... He bought an olive coat - large, soft and warm – and some legguards for... well... any protection. Also some scarfs, one to close the open collar and the other one to hide his cut-ear-spot, a golden gunslinger-bandolier and a nice holster for his beloved six-gun. All concluded with a – weirdly – wide-bladed sword on his back.

Or for all who cannot imagine this...

They enjoyed rummaging through new things. It would be the last day they spend together and there’s no way that could change. Their characteristics would be too different to continue in accompaniment... but it doesn’t have to end in only a leave-taking. Shizame made the unthinkable step forward to his friend and asked him to go out for a beer and a discussion under more calm circumstances. He swore not to hit him again – if he behaved. Tijan was fluttered and accepted the offer.

The only bar in this town. Ay lot of people visiting at dusk. They ignore them whispering and glancing in all kinds of expressions from angry to nervous and even friendly. Some beg them for ‘a little’ money or a round on their account for ‘some nice friends’. Shiz’ and Tijan walk by without bothering. The waitress is just collecting empty cups as they sit down in a corner of their own and order two beer. It’s where their companionship had started – in shackles – four days ago. What a good place it is to let it end, or isn’t it?
Shizame had spared it for himself, but now he’s telling him about his plan to leave town tomorrow. Tijan doesn’t seem to be anyhow surprised. “I thought so myself.” – he said sedated – “It was clear that you wanted to go alone by now. We have our own things to care about after all.”
Shizame smiles for the first time today... how catching as it spreads in relief, like a stone had fallen from his heart. “Still we have seen some really fucked up shit. Reminds me... to a story myself...”
And so they began to exchange some stories. Chuckle and laugh upon bad experiences and each other’s agitated lives. Also their plans; Shizame, who wants to visit an old friend where he hopes to find him. And Tijan’s; to find a nice place to sit back and find peace from all the guys hunting him. This here was a right start - he said – but just a little too warm for his own good. Maybe he can come together with Jelice, go somewhere, get old, wouldn’t be the first hooker he fell in love to. If it was really love he feels, or only tiredness.
Yes... they could’ve talked all night if there wasn’t something left to come...

Some muffled sound through the wooden walls and people wondered. The windows go up in a red as they run towards them. “What is it? I can’t see...” – one shouted. And they turn their heads to the window.
“Fire, fire! All folks go outside, the sheriff’s house’s on fire!” – “You got to be kidding!”

We have a situation...

“Hey folks!” – the bartender said to the talking couple in the corner – “Go get some buckets, get water from the river and help with the fire. It’s conscription law!”
They drink out their cups in seconds and rush out on the orange dyed streets.

“Have you seen what caused it?” – someone asked in the shadows . “No... no, god... where- where is Emmy with the goddamn buckets?!”
Up on top the building is a large, burning hole, the fire is spreading vastly over the straw-covered roof. The cold doesn’t hold it back, not much. “A lightning!” – some boy yelled as he runs over the street –“ It was a lightning! I saw it, came outta nowhere!”
A lightning... Shizame thinks, can’t be... it can’t be the same?! The avalanche?

His apprehensions lay beyond fear, they are tormented. A strange paranoia, he last felt before the lightning hit that mountain. And the dark memory of one’s Sorrow.

Suddenly a figure appears in between the raging fires, doesn’t seem to bother the heat at all and there’s something dragging behind it... The bipedal creature steps forward to the rim of cracking framework, raising an arm that’s holding a burnt corpse... that’s somehow still living! People who were racing towards the river are stopping and turning their heads up to the sight. Lights glowing on its body attached to its back, legs and arms and linked with strange wires all around it. Then suddenly its eyes go white and the sharp blade of a spear is catching shocks in his right. The burnt corpse is thrown in the air and soon followed by a sharp light, catching and blowing it into steaming pieces that fall all over the crowd.

Is this a god? Is this how the gods kill ?

Shizame immediately unsheathes his swords while others flee by the messy particles the air is filled with. The creature from up top looks down on the few who stood, the drunk, the hungry for reputation and their very own 50.000s. It gives off a light grunt as it steps off the rim and lands in the dirt, 20m in front of them. That thing is huge, about 10feet in total, its face is hidden below a muzzle with also glowing – unidentifiable - parts and devises. Its tail, though, the hooves and the large horns indicate it to be a bloodkin.

The first, brave – but stupid – attacker happens to be a young nodraec, wielding his broadsword with furious initiative and thirst for action. The poor idiot is soon stopped as it blocks the blade and digs into the man’s bowel with an open claw... to rip out everything he could find hold on. Even though it was a short contact, the almost rapidly screaming kid sunk down, smoking and dead.

Tij: “Hah! Who’s next? You, you?” – Tijan commented in desperate joy from the backmost, also drawing his sword.

Shiz: “What, you still got your shooting-iron, don’t you?” – Shizame doesn’t take a single cautious eye off the beast.

Tij: “That thing is useless without ammunition, you know. And this forsaken place has no powder to sell.”

A blast from the front and another hopeless one is being ripped apart. One bites the dust and leaves the battlefield in fear, he is being ignored by the seemingly rampant anger this one is emitting. He steps towards them with awkward lightness and shaking in his legs, as if they were in constant pain. The next serious attender in this deadly game is hit by a lightning and pushed back in the bar’s window. Another’s blocking attempt is useless, the light-blade cuts right through the cold steel. The bloodkin is going faster; His next victim doesn’t even die from the wound he inflicted just yet. There’s a fire burning in its eyes and they seem to be focused on Shizame who more and more loosens hope to win this fight... he doesn’t even know what to do against this thing.
“This is a bad idea, pal.” – is whispered in his ear – “if we ran now, maybe we could escape...”
The light is so dangerously close now and within them a shadow is rising.

Tij: “Alright then. Know if it gets too hot, I’ll go though.”

Right there when this monstrosity wanted to stab the wandering salva, Tijan arches around him and lands a surprising cut through the thin, blue silk surrounding most body parts. Harsh moaning sounds behind the steel muzzle, the blow became unprecise and Shizame could block it fortunately. As the blade slides over his head he can feel the buzzing little shocks around it and the enormous heat they produce. His own hands are shaking from the immediate vibrations from his blades touching the spear. A step to the side and with a quick move Shizame was able to slide the sharp edge over an appearing arm. Muffled screams behind his back as Shizame grows distance to their foe. Three of the belligerents are still alive and now surrounding the wounded beast. But before even one could start an attack, the bloodkin’s devices start to lighten up. Little sparks erupt from the cables and the whole body goes up in lightning strikes... a strong roaring as the shocks go in every direction, heating up the ground, the air until they hit all of their bodies at once and let them fall back... Shizame feels his chest exploding... then sight goes black.

As he opens his eyes again, the bar behind the beast is going up in flames, wild horrible screams of a burning one is audible in the back, from down here he looks much more frightening. A hot, black hand is groping his throat and lifts his whole body into the air. Shizame finds his hands back, tries to demolish the skin with his fingers, but can’t, those white eyes are staring right into his own then a very different pain starts aching his veins... an inner sting into all of his nerves. And a voice in his head, a familiar one: the young girl he once wanted to protect... Takita.

“Have you already forgotten my last words? I said – as you were sticking this gun against my temple and shoot my brain out – I will win anyway. Have you thought, I’d let my plans stay unfolded just like this? Your suffering has just begun, my son Zentsuken will take you with him now... to me, to us, where we will begin the end...”

Right after the voice fades away, the heat amongst his throat raises. The strong hand is sending shocks through his nerves. His muscles twitch in spasms, the blood is boiling and the lungs coughing and choking at a time. His eyes search salvation in the black night, they think they could find it.

Then suddenly the grip loosens, the mud is like snow, ice-cold and soft. On top of him Sorrow’s son is screaming out, dark blood is pouring down. A sharpshooter’s shot broke the muzzle around his mouth and ripped off a part of his nose. Raging, clawing all around to find who did this. Shizame rolls over to dodge the stomps and kicking. In his rage Zentsuken throws a lightning into the large bell tower, where it breaks and falls down in unbelievable loud shutter of falling walls, turning this place into a thick layer of dust and ashes.
The burning building to his sides guide him through the cloud, the cursing voice helps him to avoid any more contact with the demon.

Zen: “MOTHER! Why have you done this to me?! Let the pain stop! Let it stop! LET IT STOP!”

He can hear steps next to him, groaning, a survivor? Tijan? Another lightning strikes and the figure turns into a smoking mass of blown flesh. Even the hot blood on his cheek is cold compared to the electricity that’s still running inside his veins. The hysterical screaming has ended. Steps. Now it’s over... it’s all done for!
But the hand that grabs him this time is made of cold steel. Dragging him in an alley, slapping his face.

“Do you see the results of your actions now, cursed?” – he blinks burnt wood out of his eyes and looks into a steel- mask. The stranger dragging him lets her voice sound again: “Go to the river, find your friend, follow the river.”

“W- wait...” – Shizame wanted to say, but there she disappeared again, walking through the befogged mix of dust and bleak fire. His chest is hurting badly, but he can walk, with a little help. He follows the wooden frontage until the sight is clearing and he can see the landscape behind the large river. He stumbles into the water, it is so cold, he takes it to his burning chest to ease the pain.
Now... what? What now, they’re all dead... Behind him another building is going up in flames after a lightning hit it. He can determine the desperate screams of their inhabitants, the fear or pain they’re into. They’re all dead... doesn’t matter what happens... they won’t escape their fate. One way or another.

“Shizame!” – Tijan is screaming from a boat, alone and dark – “Shizame, over here!” – his glowing eyes lead him.

Fuck the cold! Shizame jumps into the river and starts swimming in his armor, not seeing where he swims to or what he’s reaching for...
A slick rope helps him onboard... a little fishing boat, no one but him on it. Did really no one else make it? It can’t be!
The river is flowing, in their backs the large clouds of black smoke and smoldering homes.

Next Part

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This is for you! I decided to speed up and make this a Christmas present.
For the unknowing: Shizame as well as Zentsuken reside with him, even though I made some major changes to the latter's appearance, forgive me.
This is actually the second time I did Zen... I remember it was a year from now... deadbird-hushabye.deviantart.c…

Made with Krita and the Wacom Intuos pen & touch medium.
Also using David Revoy's brush kit for Krita