Tales from Orasul

It was an hour after the last evening bell rang, we were called to the Lowroads, another creature on the loose. We grabbed our gear and made our way to the job site. By the time we got there, half the marketplace was in flames. A Firestarter maybe, or someone had been stockpiling illegal munitions in their stall. I wonder what stance the Church and politicians will take before another stall explodes, bringing my mind back to the matter at hand.

"Right, Six-seven-four, eight-two-seven, five-seven-nine, and seven-zero-one, contain the flames until we get this situation cleared up. Four-seven-eight, nine-eight-one..."

The Captain rattles off several orders to our squadron. We have no names assigned; given numbers when inducted to the order. Keeps us from grieving too much when we die in the line of duty. Makes funerals a lot shorter too.

"Six-six-seven..."

My number. I'm assigned to the backline, making sure nothing makes its way to the Highroads. Boring, but safe. Things are usually cleared by the time it reaches me.

Making my way past the charred streets, the broken stables, and what probably used to be home to the "less dead." Church says they don't pray enough, folks on the Highroad say they don't pay enough in taxes. Not my job to make sense of it. When the daemons spawn, they send us, we take care of it.

I reach my position, a few buildings surround me, each one more decrepit the more I study them. Doors off their hinges, foundations off level, cobwebs gathered in the windows...

Wait...

Movement. On the second floor.

Did something make it past the front squad?

It's small, an Imp maybe?

I scan the horizon, smoke seems to be dying down a bit. Whatever it was, it's probably dead or dying. I'll take a quick look; best case it's one less call to go out for, worst case, I waste my time.

Slowly, I make my way to the slanted door. No sulfur smell, hard to tell at least. Damned smoke in my nose makes it hard to tell. No noise upstairs, Imp must have settled, bad news if it grows a nest. An explosion rings out behind me. Things aren't going as smoothly as I thought. I have to be quick.

Scaling the ladder to the second floor, a loud low roar echoes from the chaos of the Lowroads. Things are not good. I start heading back down the ladder.

"Hello?"

The small timid voice rings out louder than the largest of the Church's bells. A child? Here? The Clerics should have cleared the area out before we got here; and yet, there, coming out the corners was a small child. Tanned skin, pale grey eyes, wearing dirty rags.

"Are you here to stop the monsters?"

Another roar echoes out, closer. Almost in response to the child's question. It has to be a trick, some ploy to keep me from my duty but...

"We have to get out of here."

My voice barely carries through my smoke singed throat and the carnage growing closer. The child retracts further into the shadows. The blood rushes to my temples as I try to formulate a plan, preferably with neither one of us dying. Before I can consider every route away from the destruction, another roar sounds off, far too close for comfort. I need to act. Now.

Planning is over, sprinting as fast as I can, I grab the child and make my way to the window. As I pull the child up, a crash comes from below. It's here. The beams supporting the second floor begin to collapse. The added weight slows me down.

I could just leave them here. No one would miss one child from the Lowroads. It's the Clerics' fault for not checking thoroughly anyway...

No.

I push the thought down and give one final leap to make it through the window. Every ounce of adrenaline forcing me forward to safety. I barely hear the child's cries as I push myself off the ground.

Bracing for the impact, preparing for the numerous cuts from the glass and splinters. I bury the child into my chest to keep them from getting hurt. Sweat drips down my brow, hoping for the cool air of the evening to refresh me from the rising heat of the building.

Here we go...

Falling. The floor collapses from under me. I acted too late. My grip on the child falters as I fall. Their scream was drowned out by another roar. I don't see where they land in the smoke. A sharp pain shoots through my leg as I land on the floor. A wooden spike from the wreckage impales my right leg. I can't move without flares of pain shooting up my side, and that's the least of my problems.

At last, I come face to face with the creature. It's new, not written about in the Lexicon. Large, at least a man and a half high. At first, I thought it was holding onto doors from the buildings it's torn through, but no. Instead of hands, this thing has two massive slabs covered in a dark metallic carapace. No wonder this daemon got so far beyond the squadrons. Its eyes and mouth bear the usual ember glow of hellfire as it turns its head towards me.

Fuck.

I start desperately reaching for whatever equipment I can find that wasn't broken by the fall. Vials of holy water, shattered. Silver dust scattered about. Finally my hand lands on my revolver, the barrel still spins, thank the Gods.

One shot rings out, then another, then four more. In a fury coming over me, I fired each shot I had.

Stupid.

The creature simply closed its slabs together, blocking every shot.

"Si... lence..."

The daemon moans off a distorted word. The more intelligent can rattle off a few words. The Church tells us they speak to tempt the righteous. Though this one seems to be tempting me to an early grave.

The daemon takes its time walking towards me. I turn my attention to whatever equipment I have left. I may not survive this, but I'll take this thing with me.

"Silence..."

The daemon inches closer to me. Why is it taking its time now? This thing destroyed a city block in half a minute, why stop now?

No.

Not the time to wonder.

Time to act.

My hand runs across a hard, metallic object on the ground next to me. A nail bomb; filled to the brim with nails and gun powder. I can't just toss it at the creature. that'll work as well as the revolver did. An idea flashes in my mind.

This is going to hurt.

"Come on!"

I scream at the daemon, lighting the wick of the nail bomb with half of a match that survived the fall with me. The burn on my fingers is nothing compared to what's going to happen next.

"Silence!"

The creature responds to my call. The graveled distortion of its voice almost makes it sound like...

No. That's ridiculous

Focus.

The creature is inches from my soon-to-be corpse. The sulfuric stench burns away what's left of my nostrils. The hot air surrounding this creature begins to make it difficult to breathe as my mouth begins to dry out and my tongue begins to swell. The daemon pauses, bringing its face a hair's breadth away from mine.

"What are you waiting for?"

I don't know why I bother asking. I already know the response.

"Silence."

I pause. There's a strange tenderness to the tone. The eyes of this thing soften. The hellfire dims, and the heat surrounding this creature seems to cool. For a moment, I reflect on the word.

Not "silence" but...

A different sound cuts through the chaos. A Hunter's squad. The sound of their heavy boots is unmistakable. The Captain's voice ringing out orders, it sounds like the clarion call of angels.

Any softened features on my opponent instantly harden once again. I watch as the daemon begins to raise its large slabs above my head. I let out what could be the last scream of my life. Hoping to elicit a war cry from this daemon, at the very least letting the squadron know my location.

Fortune smiles on me as the creature opens its mouth to respond in kind. I waste no time. I shove my hand as far back into its mouth as I could reach. The heat of its insides scorches my hand. Any shred of a dignified battle shout turns into a harsh shriek of pain.

Then, an explosion.

I barely remember watching the now headless daemon slump backward before everything turned white, and then black. I awoke three days later after total darkness, feeling no more rested than I did in that collapsing building.

Soon after my awakening, I was commended for my deeds. I received the lion's share of the contract for protecting the city, a new prosthetic to replace my missing hand. Lastly, as is Hunter tradition, I was granted the honor of naming the newly discovered daemon in the Lexicon. I name it a Bulwark, impregnable defense, which allows for catastrophic destruction.

All of this passes by me in a blur. In many ways, I wish I had died that day. That way I wouldn't be tortured by my thoughts. They made no mention of the child I found. I can't tell if it's out of kindness to me, or if the Church covered up their mistakes. I already know the fate of the child in my heart, but that doesn't stop me from seeing their face in my restless nights.

One other thought prevails above all others. Something I want so terribly to forget, or decide that it was a hallucination created due to trauma. However I try, I can't deny it. The creature spoke. I thought it was commanding me to die.

Silence.

After it came face to face with me and spoke, I realized what it was truly saying.

Not "Silence".

Silas.

It spoke a name. My name, and I need to find out why and how it knew me.