id: 553 name: No Other Part 1 author: Venrithian date: 8th October 2021 text len: 7407 views: 18 -Tossed chapter one and two together because they were short as fuck A trio of armoured forms moved throughout the forest, long rifles with halberd-esque blades affixed to their ends. Unlike the knights once common with flashy polished armour, these are coated in thick mud and gore. Viscous chunks dangle from the halberd heads, and blood matted the Darken Oak furniture of their elongated, rune engraved Gewehr 98’s.  They hunt. Ribs crack and flesh is split under the blow of the halberd rifle, the shards of rib puncture lung and begin filling it with the disgusting frothing blood of their ilk. These abominations who were so eager to call our land home, these creatures that polluted our language with their abhorrent tongue. I wrench the blade from the “man’s” side. I can feel their small arms fire ping off my mithril hide. Alas, my wards have failed after they used their handheld explosives, their holy runes vacant of reagents. And now their disgusting weapons pattered off me, desecrating my plate. I could hear their filthy alien tongue as I approached. My siblings too heard their disgusting vocalizations. My sibling to my right pays the machine gunner no heed as he dispatches a woman, cleaving her from shoulder to hip with a solid strike and leaving her to dangle from what few ribbons of meat remain on the side of her filthy frame.  A filthy, bearded one with an axe charges out from a house, with but a wave from my third brother, they go skidding with a yelp, contorting unnaturally with his bones reduced to jelly. I feel the bile rise in my throat as I hear their screams, their pleas for mercy. Their mewls of pain and shouts of despair as we coat ourselves in their repugnant crimson gore, painting their hovels with their own filthy insides. These abhorrent creatures now pollute our soil with their blood, likely all they’re truly good for. The crops will grow well once we’re done raising this village. I raise my rifle and aim for the machine gunner. Some filth with the gear of their old world and a belt-fed fire spitter. My rifle roars in reply, heat blasting back as the enchanted ammunition and barrel do their work, I can feel the rifle’s raw anger ebb into my very soul, the soul used as a catalyst for my weapon adding its hatred to the blow along with my very own tireless wrath. The result is a fireball erupting from the center of the man, slagging his weapon and gear and reducing him to not even a mist. The rest we kill is noteless, as it does not fill us with the excitement that combat is. We move house to house, slaughtering the creatures within and torching the buildings.  There will be a time when we remove these humans from our lands.  And then the Elves, who we will burn out of their forests. The Dwarves will be next to fall when we fill their holds with molten lead. The Orcs we will hunt to the last, and torch their villages. The Oni we will exorcise, through blade and holy water. I taste once more the bile in my throat as I march through the woods, heads dangling from my bandolier alongside older desiccated visages and skulls. We will become impure in order to remove the impurities from our land. There can be no other. I ducked down as one of their magical rifles shot over my position, obliterating Nathaniel fifteen feet back. All I could smell was burning flesh and blood infused mud. All I could taste was the strong ozone tang of their horrifically powerful magics. I went to peer up from the scorched truck that barely served as cover from the towering creatures covered in chitinous metal plate to fire off my rifle, and froze as a colossal multi jointed arm reached past me and grabbed the man beside me by the throat, hauling him up well over two meters off the ground. I could smell the creature’s acrid breath. It had the tang of battery acid and ozone on it. I stared in stunned silence as it spit a hateful litany in an Alien tongue at the man and did something so simple yet so stunningly deadly. It roared. It roared so loudly my ears rang, until there was nothing at all to hear. I could feel warm liquid run down both sides of my head as my gums itched. The man, however, convulsed, blood pouring in a bright froth from his mouth and nose in a gurgling, silent scream that would become his final horrified death visage. Six yellow pupilless eyes turned to me, and my blood went frigid. Behind those predatory orbs was a pit of hate so strong I could feel it eat away at my very soul. The being was easily eight feet tall with four, multi-jointed arms and razor sharp looking claws. Its acidic breath steamed into the air, and it made its move. I think I screamed, or at least tried. ---------------------------------------- The disgusting swine I turn to freezes in place, further proving its pathetic soul’s weakness, a body and mind not forged for warfare, its body not moulded to the true nature of slaughter. I squeezed down on its soft throat, crushing its spine and windpipe in a mere instant. I toss it aside, and continue in my slaughter of these dregs. We march through the remains of the town towards the forest. These knife ears, “Elves” They call themselves, oh high and mighty proclaiming themselves to be the highest of beings. Superior to the humans and long lived, they say. But in reality they are no different, living but a wink of time and desecrating our earth, OUR soil, by their existence, yet they continue to preach their own superiority above all else. Such arrogance of such a pathetic race, clearly not made for the slaughter required to maintain their alleged “superiority”. We will teach them the truest forms of slaughter. We will show them what true superiority is. My third brother is the first to reach the woods. I envy him for his magics, but only for a moment. My deep mind reminds itself that he has sacrificed much for his power, much more than I could ever give for such a thing. I respect him, as I always have. I am reminded of the power that he sacrificed much for when he waves his hand, flaming balls of his wrath manifest rain from the cosmos and obliterate all they touch. We continue our march, a march to educate these knife ears of the truth of ways. A mission to humble their species. We arrive at the burning tree village, and once again I feel my anger rise, my blood becoming a boiling river of wrath as I am once again witness to the weakness of a lesser species. Some brave beings take up arms to us, launching their primitive non-magical weapons at us, iron and wooden shafts disintegrate against regenerated rune-fed shields. They are fools, however. And they pay for their foolishness soon after as my halberd rifle cleaves simple-minded heads from simple bodies, reducing their pathetic forms to corpses as I continue. Here we show them the ways of slaughter through their own flesh. Here we teach them what true superiority is by cleansing our land of their taint. Their screams boil my blood further, and I can sense my brother’s wrath peaking with my own as we slaughter in true synchronization, a hallmark of holy slaughter. Their buildings burn just as well as any wood, and their flesh cuts just as easily as any swine. We have burned the Elves from their forests. Next, we will entomb the Dwarves in their own holds, smothered by molten lead.