A Mans' World

 A Mans' World

  A Short Story by The Southern Cross

 Published by Troll

Man, Cafe is hot today oh.

Everyone here is sweating. Good thing I’m wearing just this tee shirt. Thank God dad bought it for me when he went to Yankee. It’s so fresh!

Those chics are standing near that Ice cream girl again. Don’t they ever have anything better to do? That tall yellow one that is always forming like she doesn’t see anybody. See her shakara. Nonsense.

So what do I do now? This Cafe sef. I don’t even know why I keep on coming here. I guess joblessness can be a bitch in heels sometimes.

Should I buy food?  Hmm...

I won’t lie, I’m tired of that stupid mixed rice. Bashan? Maybe that tall yellow girl will see me buying it and notice me. Chai! O boy, what are you saying? You only get 700 naira for pocket. If you chop Bashan because of woman, you know say na garri for two days.

Ok, ok, maybe I can buy a drink. Limca might make brain right now. Wait first. If I buy Limca, that other babe standing at the drinks place wearing a djellaba would see me and think I’m broke. But if I buy Chi Exotic –

Come on, boy, MOVE! Those ice cream chics are staring at you like you’re a werewolf baby. How long have I been standing here? Chin up, chest out! No, no, don’t look at them. Damn it! I think she caught me looking. Oya, just walk.

Easy, easy. Just pull the swagger, hand in pocket. Nice one. O boy, you look fly, no worries. Good, I can’t see them again. Whew. Why was that light-skinned one looking at me like that though? I’m sure she was feeling my shirt. Hmm! Guy, you’re just too fresh. Ehen, where was I going again? Maybe –

Oh my Gosh!

She’s here! She’s here, next to the drinks place! Oh no. Why now? For the past one week I’ve been wearing my best combos, and the day she now decides to show up is the day I’m wearing this useless tee shirt, looking terribly scruffy.  Did I use perfume? Okay, yes. Just imagine if I hadn’t randomly decided to brush my teeth this evening.

See how my heart is beating. This girl oh. And she has no idea what she’s doing to me.  I’m always forming I can’t see her when she walks past me in college. Even when our eyes meet, I don’t even smile at her. I hope she doesn’t think I don’t send her oh. But wait, isn’t it better if she does...?

Ah, she hasn’t seen me. She’s smiling at something. Oh, look at those perfect pearly whites! She’s so fine, and she doesn’t act like she has even the slightest idea of this. I must talk to her today. I must say something.

Man, you’re getting closer to her. Is my heart beating faster? Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. I mean, I could always see her again at the college. You know, talk to her there. It might be better...

Guy! Your liver don dey fail oh! Just go and meet her! Talk to her. It’s you now. You can think of something witty to say.

Wait, slow down. Who’s that boy standing next to her? Maybe he’s just standing really, really close to her by mistake.

Omo, I think he’s talking to her. Chai, she’s smiling at him. Did she just touch his cheek? Ah! In Cafe?! That must be her new boyfriend. See? I knew I should have talked to her since. See how they’re laughing now. That could have been me. Instead, I am here standing in the middle of Cafeteria One like an imbecile. Fuck me! I better go and jeje-ly buy my mixed rice and two beef.

But wait oh. Who’s that girl joining them? She’s hugging the guy! Ode, that’s her guy. Look. They’re walking away hand in hand.

Okay, she’s alone now. Hands in pockets, look cool. Slow down though. Don’t rush to her. Take your time. You’re a big boy, remember?

Jesus! Did she just look at me? Oh my God, let me die now!

Guy, get a hold of yourself. You’re a man, and you’re twelve feet from an impossibly beautiful Greek goddess in human flesh. Hang on. That thought’s not helping. At all.

Yowzer! She’s smiling in my direction! No, it can’t be at me. There must some fine, rich boy next to me that she’s smiling at. No one on my left. No one to my right. Omo, it’s you she’s smiling at oh.

Smile back you moron! Not like that. God, I must look like a starved hyena. I better close my mouth before I make her run away. Walk straight; she can’t see you walk anyhow oh!

Ye! What am I going to say? I can’t be dumb enough to say something as boringly stupid as ‘Hi’. No, think quick, you’ll be in front of her in about 3 seconds.

(Hey you) No, too boring!

(I saw you standing by yourself and thought I could keep you company) Too long!

(I couldn’t resist the charms of an angel) Kai! No be Nollywood you dey!

(Fine night, isn’t it?) No it’s not, it’s HOT you idiot!

(You’re the sky and I wish I could be your sun) Hahahaha! Ode.

(I love you so much) Are you crazy?!

Open your mouth, she’s here. Say something. Anything! She’s smiling at you, waiting for you! Okay, okay, I know what to say. Perfect. Take a deep breath –

“Hi, Adannaya.”

Ah fuck.

^v^v^ Southern Cross ^v^v^

The Killers' Mirth

 

 

 

The Killers' Mirth

Guild Wars of Cabina 

By J.R.Trollan

Pale rays of moonlight cut through the storm clouded night of Cabina, breaking the foggy darkness of the Deadwood night but doing little to the ghastly chill  that clung to the forest like a parasite to its host- an eternal cold, the ever present reminder of the legacy of Deadwood.  A thousand atrocities committed eons past had led to the morbid present of Deadwood; an ever present silence haunted the forest, the trees- frozen in time, a mere mockery of life once present, all life had fled its borders and only the Guild remained screaming a muted defiance to all that Deadwood represented.  In the dark of night, a shadow cut silently through the static mist that blanketed the grounds of the Guild. Cloaked in shadow, blade in hand, Ifay Frost strode through the night mist- the chill sleeping into his bones and his body registering its presence and ignoring it- there were far more trivial things to attend to. Heightening his senses by a subtle twist of carnus and shade afia, he was able to see clearer than most would in cloudless midday.  Frost was a mystery in a guild full of other mysterious elements; a man with virtually an untraceable past, he was rumored to have been trained as an assassin from the very moment of his birth by the Northern Queen, it was also rumored that he hailed from the old relics of Martius Deinan: an Assassin Guild more myth than truth. To his credit, Frost had held no claims to truth in such rumors but then again….never did he reject them.

Being one of the two who had returned with Troll Nihilis from the wastelands, no questions about his loyalty were in doubt and as with Frost, no answers were offered. A sudden flick, the faintest of sounds brought Frost to a halt- his prey had been wonderful so far, he almost felt sorry that they’d made a mistake-probably a rookie amongst the group- so far, he had struggled to pick up their trail for twenty parts of a minute since splitting with Cruz. That was a record time for anyone to put him off for-they should be proud-. Casting off his shadow cloak, he unsheathed his ebony clad long sword, felt its balance sit comfortably in his calloused palm, let his fingers find their notches in the horse-hide grip and slashed downwards – cutting through the mist as the blade hummed a hollow tune. A satisfied smile crossed his dark features- Wrath felt good in his arms tonight, the sword was not sentient but it lusted after blood like a northern fanged Faethra Wolf.

Silent as the wind and as deadly as what it could conceal, Frost tore into the night.    

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

 The Falling Sleep...Odd name for a technique mused Ned. A millennia of secret shadow afia assassination techniques known only to the most elite of Shadows' children, swift in execution and ruthless in precision. Ned Cruz D'la Grey had met a Shadow spawn once before and not on congenial terms, he hadn't been impressed. A side step let him evade the multiple shadow blade illusions that caused the same mental damage their  physical counterparts effected. His hands in a blur of motion pumped twice and two figures dropped to stone, a coal dagger embedded in between now lifeless eyes. He had to hand it to these guys, between their sloppy team work and poor skill perception they knew their stuff. The Watcher had laid several layers of shadow afia bindings strong enough to immobilize a small Hedran bull but Hedran bulls didn't have his gift, he had spared the traps a few minute parts of his concentration just enough time however for the four Shadow spawn shade-lurking to emerge and carry out their technique. Noting the impending danger, he had acted reflexively, no that would be a lie, he had acted out of habit and he hated times like these when he had to depend on his cursed ability to rescue him from deaths' rotting clutches. However, those times had been on the recent increase since joining the Deadwood Guild, a constant reminder of just how dangerous the life he had choose to live could become. Once in awhile, he'd fancy himself buying a small cottage in the outlands, finding a wife and raising a goat farm or cultivating crops; the good easy peaceful life but no, he had to be born with these eyes. These accursed eyes that nothing could hide from, even now he had seen several weak points in their chosen pattern of attack- The cardinal execution techniques, a simultaneous attack from major cardinal points; north, south,east and west and depending on how good they were, their margin of error and deviation would be somewhere under zero point one percent. However, such margins and figures meant little to Ned as his eyes plotted out several shortcomings of the attack, his body had been in motion before his eyes finished their transmission. Dispatching the southern and eastern assailants with daggers, he dropped on all fours assuming a squat, sent a stream of afia energy pouring into his thighs and winced as muscles screamed their protest at the excess inhuman strength. Sights locked on the impending  northern and western attackers, he released the pent up energy and felt the joyous relaxation of tendons and ligaments as they exploded in a wave of inhuman energy thrusting him forward in a furious blitz. Twisting his body while riding the wave, he was in their midst within a thought- his afia enhanced fists found poorly armored flesh and punched through, breaking bone to organs beneath. Still spinning, his momentum lifted the body along flinging it furiously into the path of the northern assailant, a sickening thump ensured as rapidly accelerating mass met accelerating mass in a fleshy collision of meat and bone. 

Grunting as always from the use of Carnus-Shadow afia, Ned carried out a status check; he was at thirty percent, stained with blood and pieces of what he guessed was lung and kidney, a finger throbbed probably broken, where he had awkwardly applied Carnus afia to punch through the watchers' skull earlier and he was hungry. Grunting and surveying the carnage, he made a mental note to remind the necromagu that knew materials were available and he melted into shadow.   

ORIGINS: Nepiroth Darioth Zilo

ORIGINS: Nepiroth Darioth Zilo

Tales from Cabina

The forest loomed ahead as several dark figures tore through the early morning mist of eastern Cabina. They crossed a span of green forest vegetation before emerging on the edge of a large glade. Silent as shadows, they sped towards the ring of trees situated in the middle of the glade. This particular patch work of forest was unique in the sense that all the trees were stone dead; the locals had spun a plethora of tales about their origins; some said they had been dead since the beginning of time, others said a Ult-afia Mage had cursed the land and all who dwelt within, some even said it was the passage way for the dead into the underworld, whatever the legends, the dead trees stood- sentient, gnarled and glowing dull grey in the moonlight of Cabina. The infamous nature of theirs had earned this patch of land the name Deadwood and possibly even more infamous was the guild that called it home.

The guild house was a massive edifice that slowly rose amongst the taller trees of deadwood. It was built in early times by the original lords of the glade back when the land still breathed life. It boasted a large guild hall, forty and five living quarters, eating quarters with marble lined walls, and several underground caverns that could serve as training quarters.

The shadows sped between dead trees; their passage noted only by a soft rustle in the wind and their weapons bound with shade-afia to mute the clanking of metal and gleam of silver. A figure amongst them gave a signal and watched as they broke formation, fanning out into groups of twos; lethal as shadow, they were the lost guilds of Cabina, the dark secrets and untold heroes hidden behind the epic tales and ballads of all great legends of Cabina, always behind the scene, always un-witnessed but that was from a different time. Now they existed as shattered fragments; torn from the shadows by the very country they served, made to work for money and loosing whatever pride they had in their profession, they had been made vague- like a fleeting dream that sped from memory…but Osab En Kahr would see it all change-they would rise again! Not as the petty assassins they were now…no! They would become the night once more, the legends of old spoken to him by his grandfather Udmas En Kahrl the last testament to a forgotten people as he underwent his rites of passage, the wise one had grabbed him by the elbow, kissed his eyelids and in a ritual of old, placed upon him the shade-afia. Giddy from the memory, Osab sent out the last signal for the attack, he would usher in the new age of shadows and it would begin tonight.

Nep Zilo had always been a special case, born as the only son to the most powerful dark mage in Cabina; Carnes Nix, Nep was to be sacrificed by his father to the nether demon Lacirith in exchange for dark knowledge and power. The demon had claimed the child’s soul but returned no knowledge or power to his father. Consumed with wrath at this deceit, Carnes Nix flew into a rage creating a blind-afia that bound the demon to the empty flesh of his son while severing his son’s soul from the maelstrom within the demon. The demon had lashed back, killing Nix in the process but the afia took hold even after the casters’ death. The effect of this afia had unseen consequences as all afia born of unfettered emotion usually do; for the early periods of his life, Nep had shared his body with a remnant soul of a demon persona that called itself Alob. It wasn’t very long until he realized that the demon while granting him unlimited access to dark afia also took possession of his life force further entangling its soul with Neps’. Nep knew he had to do something and fast, he sojourned in the wastelands for three moon years and on his seventeenth moon year, he created an afia he called Uboros that bound the demon Alobs’ soul with his life force forcing it to feed from its immortal life span. Nep became immortal but the sheer power of using the afia had venomous side effects, he could barely walk and as he lay on the dry desert dying slowly, visions of the nether world driving him to the brink of sanity, he remember fragments of his mother Riha Zilo. Clinging to these memories for sanity, it was in this state that he was found by Troll Nihil who had ventured out to the wastelands years before.

A few years later Nep, Troll, Tarey and Klaus became the founding members of The Spot- a guild created by Trolls’ grandfather. 

Something was wrong; Nep could feel afia alien to the wood. He sat cross-legged on a rug in a room on the highest point of the guild. Breaking his reverie, he stood and walked to a balcony that overlooked the western and northern plains of the guild grounds. Probing with a mental net of afia, he prodded the dead vegetation until he found what had triggered his interest. Moving like wind through the trees, where thirty shade-aspect afia energies, their motion depicted stealth and precision. He was impressed they had some skill coming this far unnoticed especially since Klaus was out on perimeter duty, shaking his head sadly he knew this was where their luck ended.; the guild had a full house today, all eighteen members accounted for and eager for blood-the fools could not have come at a worse time. Sensing no Omega level mage amongst them, he yawned and returned to his rug…it was going to be a long day.

Down a few floors in the guild, Ifay Frost and Ned Cruz, shared a knowing look quietly left their drinks and the rowdy guild hall where Leo Niel and D.L brawled, tossing chairs and tables in their wake. Outside they pulled on their hoods and vanished into shadow.

Rage of the Invaders pt.2

Guild Wars

Rage of the Invaders

Troll

7/20/2114

‘One must not speak when silence serves one the same purpose’

                                                                                                                                                              -Anonymous-

……………………………………

Two figures sat on rot-eaten roof tiles a dozen man heights above the city. The building offered little respite from the rage of the incoming storm that slowly encroached upon the southern territories of Cabina this time every season. The chill of the wind did nothing to cool the raging fire resident in the steel grey eyes observing Troll Nihil.

‘Sometimes, the answers we seek are more confusing than the questions that birthed them old friend’

Troll spoke to no one and everyone at the same time, a speech disorder from his years in the wastelands or a feigned ploy at madness? One could not be certain; no with any of Nihil descent, one could never be certain. Steel grey eyes watched as Troll pulled closer his cloak, adjust his balance on the roof as a fresh chill crept into the wind, rattling loose tiles. Troll watched as one such tile slid towards the edge clipping others loose and soon seven more tiles slid in its wake each tumbling over the edge of the building into the dark alley below, their shattering sounds muffled by the roar of the wind. The eyes briefly registered passing amusement on the shadowed features of the guild lord. Grunting, the man they belonged to spat into the wind and cursed- Tarey Sorrin was not a patient man, used to having his way and raising havoc to establish it, diplomacy was the last thing on his mind but today Nihil had approached him after the war council, pulled him to a corner and told him of a meeting with leaders of the Wild Ones. The fact that Nep and Klaus weren’t even here made the whole affair reek of hidden intentions and a weakness that Tarey had suspected Troll possessed now lay ominous begging to surface.

 Sensing multiple converging presences, his musing dispersed and dual silver blades caught on lights far below glistened half a second later- ‘Sheath your toys Tarey’ came Trolls’ bored reply as both turned and a shift in the wind heralded the presence of six more figures on the roof.

Tarey recognized two of them before they even spoke – Seras Haras alias Leanan Sidhe; High-guild priestess and founder of the Wild-Ones guild, Chief deserter of the now defunct Spot Guild, Seductress and Sorceress, Mistress of the Unbound and most importantly an old acquaintance of Troll Nihil, the second cloaked figure on her left would be Eszay Rei; Mistress of the High-Afia, Oracle of the Wild-Ones, word on the street was that relations between she and Haras were strained. Nevertheless, the fact that she was here was a major pain in the ass as far as Tarey was concerned. If Seras was here, then Southern Cross would not be far behind-definitely not among the cloaked trash shadowing Haras and Eszay-their sorry excuse for bloodlust could be likened to a pups’ hunger for the teats of its mother…no Southerns’ malevolence was of a darker oft indifferent vein, besides he wasn’t one for large audiences. Inadvertently, Tareys’ grip tightened on his blades as he cursed Troll once again for bringing him here. The newcomers regarded them a bit too clinically for Tareys’ comfort, he was about to speak when Seras Haras broke the silence, her voice pitched just enough to be heard above the raging storm but liquid enough to stir desires in lesser men.

 ‘Hello boys, I dare express my slight distaste for the waste of such a lovely night fit for more physical endearing activities than this rooftop convocation. I further reiterate on my distaste for your choice of location Troll dearest, I’d had thought one such as you would prefer a more clandestine meet for the both of us but alas I had foresight dare I say intuition that this would not be the case and so I made necessary adjustments to my retinue- she finished with a heart stopping smile.

'I swear'! Thundered Tarey ‘its either this cow has no tongue or there’s an afia for talking that much!’

Seras approached, a vicious grin splitting her faultless features. 

‘Well if it isn’t the tyrant maggot of Deadwood! I was wondering what you were doing here but seeing as this roof is filled rot and decay; it’s obvious you came to feast.        

‘just keep talking cow, your time is closer than you think! You and your ragtag band of misfits!

‘Enough!’ said Troll as he stepped between the agitators- Tarey sheathed his blades turning away to stand at the edge while Seras pulled over her cloak, her red-gold hair fell in healthy locks on her shoulders down to her full bosom. Troll made a mental note to find out if she used some sort of afia aspect to make them that big.

‘Well you sure took your sweet time getting here Seras’

‘My apologies Troll dearest, I had some internal drama to play a role in. You do know how much I love a good show’

‘Well whatever, let’s get down to why we are here…did you bring it?’

Troll swore as Seras; manicured fingers slipping into the valley of her gown produced a sealed scroll still warm and perfumed - winking, she handed him the scroll which he opened, memorized the contents and returned. 

‘From what I’ve just read, it would seem we have very little time don’t we?

‘You have something mistaken Troll dearest’.

Seras flashed another bewitching smile as she walked back to where Eszay and her guards waited.

 ‘There’s no ‘we’, just you, the tyrant over there and the rest of the Deadwood guild. We at Wild Ones have more than qualified for the requirements stated and frankly we’re stronger so you’ll need nothing short of a miracle to make the cut.

‘The whore acts as if we are blind to other options’- Tarey spat as he walked to where Troll stood with a wide grin on his face.

Seras froze, a venomous glint in her eyes, her voice level and liquid ice- ‘you wouldn’t dare! That would be suicide!’

Troll smiling and in a similar tone retorted- ‘you don’t get to pick our dares anymore Seras, you lost that right along with whatever trust I had in you when you deserted. You’ve made it clear we are rivals and I believe it’s time we test the validity of that claim. Seras you made a misguided supposition that the Wild Ones were stronger, perhaps an illusion created by the size and bulk of its guild roster. You forget however that Deadwood is not the Spot guild. Goodnight Seras Haras and Eszay Rei we shall meet again’.

Tareys’ laughter tore through the rage of the storm as Troll opened a trans-afia portal and briefly stepped through. The Tyrant stared down the venom present in the eyes of the enraged guild head.

‘War comes whore, war comes'