CANDY MOUNTAIN

[Loki]

Omi had dragged himself, and the barbarian, across the burnt landscape for three days. The undead had set a brutal pace, one that few mortals would have been able to sustain for long. He stopped only so that Emli could rest for a short time and eat, and then he was on again. He hadn’t spoken a word for those three days, instead communicating through basic hand gestures to let Emli know when it was time to rest and when it was time to move again.

The longest stop occurred on the last day, as they were nearing the boundary of the burning lands. Omi gestured for Emli to eat, and waited long enough to see that the mole creature was obeying. He walked out of site, around what had once been a building, but was only a charred frame. The Jiang Shi stopped once he was sure that Emli couldn’t see him. It wouldn’t do for the disgusting creature to see what he was about to do.

Omi knelt down and traced several words in his native tongue into the ash. He placed the words so that there was space for him to stand at their center. This took several minutes, as he needed to ensure that each character was perfect, or else the spell would fail miserably. When he finished his writing, Omi settled himself down with crossed legs, and folded his hands in his lap. He closed his half-rotted eyelids, though this did little to keep out the light, and began to meditate. Omi could feel his Qi flowing through his body, and into the words he had written around himself. He felt the itching begin, and ignored it as best he could. It was as though he were covered in biting, stinging, ants. When the itching and pain were at their height, Omi spoke a word of power.

The itching was gone, as was the burning pain. The undead stood and opened its eyes. Omi looked down at himself with satisfaction; the spell had been completed beautifully. He was, in appearance at least, a mortal Cizokian man. There were no wounds, and no marks of undeath upon him. He knew that he still smelled of death, but that was only because of his time in the burning lands. Once he washed himself, he would smell fine.

Omi came back around the building to where he had left Emli. He knew that the creature wouldn’t have run. He had set his pace deliberately so that by the time he needed to cast his spell, the creature would be too exhausted to even consider running. For the first time in three days Omi spoke, using a loud and clear voice, “Come, barbarian, it is time for you to enter the civilized land of Cizok.”

***

Omi led them to the closest city to the border that he knew of. He didn’t want to be seen dragging the strange creature further into the nation than he had to. It was better to just hand Emli off to someone who would know what to do with him. He also wanted a chance to bathe and to eat. He hadn’t eaten for many days, and though he didn’t require food, he found it to be one of the things he missed most from his life as a mortal. Now that he looked like a living man, he might as well act like one.

The city was not a true city, but more of a fortified town with watch towers and a garrison. The time during and after The End had been chaotic, with masses of refugees and other less savory sorts fleeing the destruction that had visited most of the world. The survivors had learned quickly enough, a good defense was always welcome. The border city was no different.

Omi approached the first soldier he saw, and bowed in the form appropriate to the soldier’s rank. “Omi, Luoyang. I bring a prisoner, and a report, from the burning lands.” After a brief exchange, Omi and Emli were surrounded by several other soldiers who escorted them toward the central fortifications. Omi walked calmly between the men, though his eyes wandered to the familiar architecture around him. Cizok was a good land, and he enjoyed his time in it. Emli would be receiving stares; one of his kind had not been seen in the area, and rumor spread quickly.

At last the escort broke away when they reached the gates of the fortress. Omi bowed to the soldiers guarding the gates and motioned for Emli to follow him. Without a second look at the guards, Omi made his way into the fortress halls, turning only to ensure that Emli had actually followed him inside.

[littlebean]

The past three days had been cruel and brutal torture. Emli had worked hard and endured demanding physical labor once before. Never had he experienced this kind of exhaustion and physical pain. For many days he could dig in a mine, he was built for it, he was born to do it. It was hardly a challenge for Emli to travel his way about through tunnelling. His body supplied him with large powerful digging tools, itcame to him by nature. His feet however, suffered intense injuries in his work and Emli never willingly even attempted to walk at more than a careful hobble.

Omi's pace was hurtful. Only fear kept him going, because he knew that if he stopped the man would have killed him easily. Through his entire journey his feet bled and ached from the constant travelling. What little spare time he had was spent eating, resting and applying what little medicine he had to his feet to ease the pain.

However on the final day they had arrived at their destination. When his assailant said that they arrived at the land of Cizok, he would get to see for the first time where he was being taken. For the first time Emli looked (as best as he could) at his first ever above ground city. There were large towering structures, and it appeared that the buildings were more than merely holes in the dirt but actual houses, which smelled like they were made of wood.

Little of his time could be taken in enjoying the sites, because no sooner had they arrived the man had him taken to strange hallways. He recieved many stares from people, and being surrounded by so many all at once made him nervous, but he did and said nothing. Again like he did most of the time, he did what he was told and waited for it to be over, which hopefully would be soon.

[Nayt]

Once Omi was inside of the fort, likely seeking the commander of the "base." It wasn't that large of an establishment, this being a small town on the outskirts of Cizok and all. It was far from a reputable place, separated from the rest of the country by thick forests and mountains. Who could police them? No one. If they wanted to make the law themselves, they could--not that they did. No, no, anything but that! No, such a thing was quite silly.

Omi was met by the commander rather quickly--a tall man, skinny, too scrawny for his own good. He had a spotty mustache that resembled something more seen in another country than here in Cizok--rather outlandish. His kimono needed cleaned and he was partly balding. A corrupt man amongst corrupt soldiers who were all more than willing to make a few pounds of gold off of anything. Omi practically bumped into him, who startled the commander without a doubt. He stared at them for several long moments.

Such a strange creature--a barbarian? No, no, that couldn't be! The commander was a somewhat reasonable man, not the type to view such an outlandish creature as a barbaric, or anything along those lines. And he certainly wouldn't repeat the phrase at least ten times to drill it into someone's mind that it was necessary to hear those words like an echoing chorus! Barbaric! Barbaric! No, such a thing was abnormally silly.

"What exactly is going on, here?" the commander asked.

[Loki]

Omi was startled to meet the commander in the halls of the fortress, before his arrival had even been announced. He was further startled that the commander’s clothing was almost as dirty, and ill repaired, as his own. He wondered, for a moment, if the town had been struck by some calamity that had caused the commander to appear in such disrepair. The thought was dismissed as quickly as it had come; he had seen no evidence of damage to the town, and there had been no panic noticeable in the citizens. That only left the option that the commander simply did not care to keep up proper military appearance and discipline.

Omi ignored his first, negative, impression of the commander and bowed as was proper to a man of his rank. “Sir, I have returned from an expedition to the burning lands. I encountered this creature and thought it best to bring it to the nearest fortifications I knew of.” He had noted that the commander was already examining Emli, and felt no need to order the creature forward. “It offered no resistance to capture, sir. What would you have me do with it?”

[littlebean]

Emli stood as still and quietly as he could. His feet ached and he wanted to sit, but he began to fear sitting altogether. He remembered what got him into all this trouble in the first place, because he sat down in front of the man who captured him. So no sitting was going to be done. Instead he stood there doing his best to follow the orders he couldn't hear or understand and please his captors. He would stand there quietly until he was commanded to do otherwise, but until then, he stood, observing his surroundings as best as he could, since he wasn't doing anything else.

The man who had captured him was approached by another man. He couldn't hear what he was saying very well, but the vibrations in his ear were harsh. The man was speaking to the other man harshly, and after they exchanged words his captor bowed to him. It made Emli smile knowing that despite this man's attitude and superior behaviour, even he had someone to answer to. Luckily for him he was wearing the mask, he saw the smile they'd certainly be offended, or so he assumed. He also assumed that when they were talking, it was about him. Emli hoped that the commander might order the man to release him, and if they chose to keep him at the very least he would like to be able to sit down without fear, his feet were exhausted and sore from the newly developed blisters from his speedy journey.

[Nayt]

First and foremost, the captain wasn't too sure why the "prisoner" was brought here. If someone found a rabbit, were they supposed to be bringing the to him? And moles? There were a whole hell of a lot of rabbits out there. There were a whole hell of a lot of moles out there, too. If he had soldiers of his bringing in rabbits and moles every few seconds, he might be forced to just cut them all down hard and good and tell the intelligent few to cut that the fuck out. Secondly, he wasn't too sure who the hell the guy bringing the "prisoner" in was, either. He was addressing him as sir, though, and obviously wore the uniform of military.

Unfortunately, Omi's uniform was a bit outdated--but hey, so was the captain's uniform. That was nothing to hold against a guy. Coincidentally, both of their uniforms--the captain's and Omi's--looked like garbage, uncleaned, stained, tattered, and the like. The members of the militia and military around this town were in the same situation, too.

"What to do with him . . .?" the commander asked himself as he stroked his lengthy mustache with his thumb.

What to do with him? Emli looked pretty useless, to put it frank. He must have had some sort of use, but that was beyond the commander. He was all about giving potential work the benefit of the doubt, he really was, but he was more than willing to boot out the useless. The commander side-stepped to position himself diagonal to Omi, where he could get a better look at Emli.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak to Emli, he remembered that this was presumably an individual (Creature or human, he couldn't quite tell just yet; he looked human, but those claws. Jesus Christ! Those claws could rip a balista apart!) not from Cizok--therefore, he wasn't going to understand a word if the commander spoke in his native tongue, as he had been with Omi up to this point. Come to think of it, how did he even get here? Omi must have spoke Common, or this creature must have known Cizok's oriental language. *** The commander figured that he'd

"Creature! What can you do?!" He shouted, not knowing that Emli couldn't hear all that well, anyways--the commander just spoke terrible Common, and couldn't alter his tone well when speaking it.

***: Upon realizing this, Nayt decided it was necessary to separate Cizokian speech from Common speech with green and not-green font color, because he's too lazy to translate English to Japanese. Everything in green is clearly not in English, and if Emli can't understand "Cizokian," it would be awful silly of him to make sense of the green text!

[littlebean]

Because of Emli's tiny ears and poor hearing, for the most part everything was almost completely silent, if not spoken in barely audible whispers. His posture remained stiff and formal, and still he was waiting and thinking. When the commander spoke to him, the sudden sound startled him into a jump. By now there was no use trying, he was scared, he was tired and it was showing. First of all there was a sharp gasp, then a jump followed by quakey knees, not only out of fear but weakness as well.

"I-i-i-i...." The answer was simple but Emli still stuttered. He dug, he was a digger, that's what moles like him did. His tongue was making it difficult to speak, but without it he would only be yelling vowel sounds. Just this once, he would suffer through the pain to speak one word, only to please the commander.

"DIG!" He shouted and winced immediately right after. Emli figured that if they wanted to know what he was capable of, they must have captured him to put him to work. It was the same as his home beneath the earth and it would be the same above it as well. After digging for most of his life, and for no pay he had quite enough of this shit, but if something as natural to him as digging would save his life, he would do it for them if they asked. Sometime though he would have to continue looking for that smell.

The small optimistic part in Emli figured that perhaps they would find it here, but the much larger pessimistic half of him highly doubted it and only expected the worst. So he braced himself. What would happen next?

[Loki]

Omi hated how the commander, and Emli, both shouted at each other in the foul common tongue. It grated on his ears. He would have silenced them both if he could, but that wouldn’t have suited his purposes at all. He waited until first the commander, then Emli, had spoken their piece. When there was a pause, Omi spoke to the commander in the language of Cizok, “Sir, with your leave, I will gather supplies and be on my way. I must report to my garrison.”

He didn’t want to stay in the town. Omi wanted to go deeper into Cizok, where he could learn news of what had happened to the land since The End. From the looks of the town, and its soldiers, they had been cut off from the ruling government for some time. He needed to reach an area where information would be plentiful.

[Nayt]

"Dig . . .?" the commander asked himself.

For a second, he stroked his mustache--lengthy as it was, flowing, in fact, like a two then veils falling from either side of his lips in a fashion that wasn't quite popular in Cizok at the moment, but was quite a few hundred years ago. In fact, it was almost expected for men of high military importance to wear such a mustache--like now, it was expected for all samurai, daimyo, and other members of the warrior class to wear their hair up in topknots. This may have been the reason he chose such a style, as he had trouble growing much hair on his head, and the regal appearance of antiquity in a warrior presumably of high social class seemingly commanded respect, regardless of whatever blemishes he may have had.

He didn't want Omi leaving just yet, though. They weren't done here until they had a purpose for Emli, a creature (or man? or beast? he couldn't tell.) who seemed much more barbaric to the commander now that he had heard him speak. The commander had very poor Common and spoke it terribly, but Emli spoke it even worse.

"Hold on a moment," the commander held up his hand to Omi, "I think I have a fair idea of what to do with this creature."

They were speaking in their native tongue, which the commander and Omi were both much more comfortable with, and it was to be expected that Emli would not understand. Omi more than likely understood Common, as well (which the commander could only assume, as he had traveled all this way with Emli; communication had to exist on some level), but conversing with him in that trashy language would have not only been a strain and discomfort, but would leave Omi's prisoner with far too much preliminary information.

"Surely there is someone in town who could make use of a digger. We can sell him with that purpose. What say you?" the commander asked Omi, "Of course, a majority of the profit would be yours, seeings how this creature is your find."

[littlebean]

Emli was still standing as he had been the entire time. The words spoken between the two men remained incomprehensible whispers, and completely meaningless to Emli. He spoke to languages, his native Nadirnioth tongue and the common forced upon them by the tyrant's teacher at school. The teachings were so that they could learn how to speak with traders and merchants for profit, and now that he was finally above the earth Emli was slightly grateful for his teachings, only slightly because he wouldn't be up here in the first place if it weren't for that man. The whole country resented him.

There was limited communication between Emli and the man who captured him, even though they both spoke common. Right now what they were speaking wasn't common, and by chance if Emli could hear what they were saying it all sounded like ching chong wing wong to his ears. Whatever they were ching changing about, Emli kept hoping that it was about setting him free, and he got excited when he saw Omi head out to leave. His heart sank right back into place when the commander called him in to stay.

The fact that they were still talking and he was still there told Emli that they must have been conversing about assigning him his job, he assumed so especially after being asked what he could do. A job however did mean that this crazy cycle would end and that he could rest himself finally. That's all he was looking forward, maybe after a nice nap and meal he would worry about the rest later, but not now. How long would he be standing here?

Emli stood there some more.

[Loki]

“… Sell him?” At first Omi wasn’t sure he had heard the man right. As far as he was aware, the Cizokian military did not engage in such activities. Omi’s mind worked furiously; this couldn’t be a trap, they wouldn’t bother with that. Something wasn’t quite right about it, though. The only option that was left was that the commander was corrupt. The tattered uniforms and ill discipline would easily be explained by that. If Omi refused to sell the creature, that might well put him in danger of being silenced.

“Sir, I would be glad to receive profits from this pathetic creature. I doubt it will be able to bring in much, however. It is clearly lacking in intelligence and it is hard to communicate with it. That will, unfortunately, bring down the price it will sell for.”

It would be better if Omi just ran with what the commander wanted. Safer that way, and if he got money from it, all the better.

[Nayt]

"I'm sure he'll be of use to someone!" the commander declared.

The commander gave Emli a look over again. Certainly, a contractor would find use in someone like him--someone who could dig, someone who likely boasted formidable stamina to work in intense conditions for a lengthy amount of time. A mole, basically. Like this guy.

"There are more than enough villagers ready and willing to pay good money for a worker, regardless of intelligence. In fact, some may be inclined to offer more: an intelligent creature would know how to escape, would it not? There's bound to be someone at the auction who thinks the same."

He sounded a bit like a businessman with the way he spoke about selling a "creature." This more than likely hadn't been the first time he had sold a "creature" before, considering his ability to determine a favorable sales pitch to sell off a living being for a higher price.

An auction, though, was a much greater source of revenue than a simple sale. He could have set Emli out and declared a price--and whoever was first willing to take that, he'd sell Emli to. But an auction meant that villagers were going to be topping each other's bids, and if someone--such as the commander--could talk up the one being auctioned well enough, the profit was going to be more than "modest." Really, it was the thought process of a businessman: make as much money as one could by screwing as many people as possible. Even if Emli, unguarded, escaped from captivity the next day or killed his captors, as was a great possibility considering those massive claws, they were still getting paid, and it wasn't like auctions came with a refund policy. Or if anything at all came with a refund policy, not anymore at least--not since Greoul (God rest the nation's many souls), the tree hugging consumerist pansies.

"We'll keep him here for the night. Quarters will be prepared for you, just inform the guard that is is Commander Kernai's orders--and I will see you tomorrow at noon in the village square, for the auction of this creature." the commander--Kernai--stated as he motioned for two of his guards, their uniforms also a bit dirty and tattered, to come for Emli, to take him by both sides and remove him from the premises.

He was, coincidentally, going to be placed in stone holding room, something he couldn't necessarily dig through. Though, considering his ability to dig (which Kernai already considered to be something special, himself, for anyone that looked that much like a mole would have to be something special!), what kept him from escaping Omi's captivity by now? If they had been traveling for a length of time, which Kernai could only presume, then that must have meant that Omi kept a constant watch on Emli---to keep him from escaping and all. Sleep wasn't something that could be counted on, no, not with someone this moleish! Moles didn't sleep! Well . . . not a lot. So, if Omi had sneaked away whilst Emli sleep, the mole man would have likely escaped. That was some serious dedication on Omi's part, to stay with this prisoner every waking moment, and considering Omi's unprecedented state of undeath, was literally every of their time traveling! Omi certainly wouldn't have gone off alone to wash his face--no, that would be very irresponsible, and he'd have been sans one prisoner accordingly!

Kernai nodded to his own revelations (presumably alone, since he had dismissed Omi) approvingly, at which point he realized a thought that he had gracefully skimmed over: Holy God, that man is in an extraordinarily dangerous state of health! He may even be dead by now! No, nope, not alive--dead for awhile, in fact! That pungent and all too well known flavor of death reached his nostrils a little late, but it attracted not thoughts of horror from Kernai, but interest. The undead didn't tire--they could work for months on end without a wink of sleep, given just a tiny bit of stitches and nutrients every so often. That could certainly fetch a pretty penny on an auctioneer's market. Oh, why the hell not? That was something to deliberate and maybe plan if it was economically advisable tomorrow morning.

[littlebean]

Still, time passed and Emli stood there, listening to the whispers and rambles of the foreign and strange looking men. As time passed, in his mind it passed on back into his childhood where a familiar experience was locked away in his memory. What he was suffering through wasn't at all unlike back at home, so he was not afraid, just anxious and tired in a more wanting to get it over with kind of way.

In his memory a young Emli, only nine years of age stood along side his peers in the classroom, holding their breath as a man, an inspector paced back and forth, eyes locked on them staring at them with an eager and hungry look on his face. Words would be exchanged between the inspector and the teacher, in another language he could not understand. Like now he couldn't hope to figure out what they were saying, but he was being assigned a task that would shape the remainder of his days. The teacher didn't seem too excited, and constantly kept her eyes staring at the ground. When she revealed her face she showed a dismal expression handing the inspector Emli's report, which was looked over and over again until finally the man announced,

"Number 216, I have a place for you in the mines. Come with me."

Two men came to him from either side to remove him from the premises in his dream, and in reality. Finally the deal between them had been completed, soon he could settle himself into his old routine, only above the surface in a new setting. He offered little resistance, limping alongside them entirely of his own will, walking into captivity. It was unpleasant, but not strange and new. He could deal with slavery if he escaped with his life, and besides he could still smell the scent that brought him up in the first place, in the end there was still a purpose.

The stone chamber was almost welcoming. It cooled his burning skin and relaxed him, it was hardly comfortable but by now Emli didn't give a damn about where he rested, as long as he rested. It figured though, that he would be locked away in a stone dungeon. Upon announcing that he was a digger they probably realized that placing him in anything other than a proper stone or steal dungeon would just be an invitation to escape. Despite the size of his hands and claws, even he could not dig through stone, and even while travelling on average everyday soil he still didn't have the opportunity to escape then. Not for travelling for three days straight without rest! That was why his feet hurt so much in the first place!

" Ahh....imif...imif." Muttering to himself in mole speak he grabbed his crooked feet, attempting to massage the pain away. Tonight he would take advantage of the time he had alone to himself and rest, since the man who captured him without reason seemed to be in too much of a rush to allow that. Tomorrow will come when it was good and ready.

When Emli woke up, it wasn't tomorrow like he would have hoped, it was still night time. His sleep was restless and full of worries, his mind wandering through every horrible outcome, preventing him from a proper sleep. He yawned widenly and sat up in his sleeping bag, and only sat for awhile taking in the aromas of his surroundings, waking up very slowly.

It was dark in his small stone dungeon, which didn't bother him none since his eyes were almost useless anyway. Darkness was familiar to him, and oddly enough after a nice and comfortable rest, despite his current situation he didn't feel too bad. There were no weapons being pointed at him, no frightening undead samurai and intimidating foreigners to order him around. With all of these thigns out of his head, Emli began to think clearly for the first time in a long while, and what he thought of was nothing short of an excellent plan.

Slowly he crawled out of his sleeping bag, and began to roll it back up. Now, Emli had all the time in the world to escape, now that he wasn't travelling for three days straight under the constant watch of the samurai, and was left alone and unattended to do as he wished. Now, finally now he was going to escape, and he had the tools to do so in the bag the guards failed to inspect or confiscate.

Why they didn't discard all of his belongings was beyond him. Beneath the ground in his native land, you weren't allowed to own ANY possessions and Omi, well Omi gave him the privilege of carting around a backpack with a few sticks of dynamite in it. If putting him in this stone prison was supposed to prevent him from digging out, then he failed miserably. Even without matches or any fire, being surrounded by stone was enough for Emli to ignite the dynamite and escape.

First the sleeping bag was put away, and the dynamite taken out. The rocks laying about were good enough, and he grabbed two of them and began to crash them together, the clanking noise echoeing in the empty dungeon...clank...clank...clank and then a spark!

KABBBBOOOOOOOM!!!!!

The spark lit the dynamite, and it exploded. By the time the smoke cleared Emli would have been gone, leaving behind only the hole he dug to escape through as evidence that there was ever a mole in this prison.

Offtopic: Lew your mother sucks cocks in Hell.