DP Gregoire Fiction - Scabbath the Exile
Wednesday September 30th 2020
In an antediluvian world, long before the great pyramid of Giza, and the permafrost which blankets Antarctica, there was magic that was true and wonders beyond imagination. It was a time before the ancient ones came, it was a time during the infancy of man, it was a time of great achievement.
The desolate plains of not yet Antarctica, but a land long before, wandered a lonely traveler. An exile from a land foreign to this one, but more central to most other civilizations.
The man came from an ancient continent, long lost to the sea. But in these times, it was hailed as a cradle of civilization. The land this man came from bore the world's secrets, yet over time other lands came to hold their own.
Nations rose, kingdoms fell. Generations of families rose up, others disappeared. The world was wrapped in war & strife, yet not all was lost, for there was a small speck of glimmer. A hope only dreamed of.
This era was known as the time of great wars & misinformation. More than half of the globe was engulfed in conflict, leaving the remainder to play out its existence as it would.
He had mixed feelings about his sentence of exile. On one hand, he was far from the conflict & vitriol of the society he knew. On the other, there were aspects he would miss, such as friends & family.
His name was Scabbath, warrior nomad from where he came. Exiled for conscription delinquency, he believed not in their cause. Why invade foreign lands to take resources that aren't yours? This notion did not sit well with him, so he failed to fight. His choices were clear, death or exile?
Scabbath did not lament in his sentence. He saw exile as an opportunity to discover the world. For he knew it was much larger than the little land from where he came.
The land not yet known as Antarctica, currently known as Ulstoria was a temperate landscape. Its plains rolled for miles, uninterrupted. Mountain ranges far & few in-between, hot springs plenty, and rivers to quench the thirst of the fertile soil.
Ulstoria was a beauty to behold, Scabbath had to admit. The soil was unlike any he had seen. It was a blend of yellow, orange, red, and purple through and through.
The vegetation that fed off of the soil carried some characteristics of the ground it had grown from. The leaves were green like most anywhere on Earth, yet if you looked close enough, you could see the colors glossing over the foliage.
Scabbath took pleasure in the scenery Ulstoria had to offer. Through all of his time here he had walked endless plains. He knew not if Ulstoria housed any features aside from grasslands.
The plains were empty, except for the animals that grazed on the plethora of food which grew from the Earth. It then dawned on him. He was exiled to Ulstoria because it was absent of people. He was here, to die alone, to live the rest of his days in solitary, nobody to talk to... Scabbath only arrived the night prior, yet it felt like eternity. Perhaps exile was going to be harder than he thought?
He came with little on his back – the outfit he wore, a knife, flint & steel, and a few days worth of food & water. And with the advent of storm clouds on the horizon came a whole new slew of problems. Scabbath needed shelter, yet there were no trees; caves; dwellings in sight.
This fate, they knew it worse than death... I wonder how many poor souls suffered the same fate I currently endure? he grumbled from within.
Dark clouds pressed forward ominously, thunder echoing in the distance. Scabbath stumbled over something that he had kicked loose. A human skull?!? he thought as he looked it over.
Scabbath gazed outward analyzing the landscape, it littered with dozens; hundreds of bones. This appeared to be some sort of skeleton landfill. But what would cause this? Is this how the dead were disposed of? Or was there some other cataclysm that caused this mass destruction? he wondered, his eyes fixated on their remains.
Many of the bones were sunken into the soil, dirt soaked into them, staining their coloration. Moss grew where sinew used to attach. Many looked broken or damaged. Skulls completely caved in, femurs broken in half, ribs cracked. A violent end, he surmised from what he was able to see.
A light, cold rain came down from the heavens above. The storm had come. Night turned into darkness as clouds moved to cover the stars & moon, cutting off their light.
Scabbath moved hastily to build shelter. It was built from the only available resources around – bones of the dead. Mud was put between the cracks to seal the shelter from the rain, and the grass from the plains are laid atop like a roof.
A small fire was made from any scrap of kindling Scabbath could find – dried grass; twigs from bushes; scraps of fabric, they were the fuel. A rabbit like creature he had caught on the plain earlier was being prepared for his dinner.
This species was different, for it had long ears that would drape down its back, the tips touching the ground. They were longer and lither than other rabbits, a marsupial with a large fuzzy tail like double stacked cotton.
Scabbath did not notice the large indentations now collecting water which run so close to where he set up shelter. Because if he did, he may have reconsidered.
After the meal Scabbath laid down to sleep. It was not the best accommodation, but it was what he had. Exile was a grim fate, a prolonged death sentence. Only the truly mad would choose such a fate, or the stupidly naive. Scabbath was neither of those things.
The ground shook, waking Scabbath. It was like one hard quake with the residual tremors getting lighter and lighter. There was pause, and then another. One, two, three... and then another. They happened three seconds apart.
He wondered, What was the cause of this seism? Looking out of his shelter Scabbath spied three ominous figures off in the distance. Their heads reached up into the clouds.
There were giants in those days – wild & uncivilized. Beings of antiquity, they were larger even than the giants of the Lands to the far North. Scabbath had worse things to worry about than a storm. These creatures, they were the storm!
Krenchyl was the leader of the giants – strong and ruthless, she was fit for survival. Her skin was hard, calloused over, natural armor. Hair covered her body, thick, warm like a layer of clothing. Her nails grown into claws, hard, yellow, dirty claws. Krenchyl wore no clothes, she needed not its protection. Krenchyl was pale, long black strands of hair hung from her head. Her teeth were sharp, great for ripping flesh. She could eat sheep in one bite. Her bosom hung to her knees, but only because she had a slight hunch in her posture as she walked.
Krenchyl was accompanied by two other giants – mates of hers. Though she could bare no children she still kept two mates around. Trollud, he was the tallest of the three giants. His body bore many scars from battles won, and was adorned with the clothes of fallen enemies sewn right into his skin. He had one eye missing, the hilt of a sword sticking out of the wound. He was missing half an ear, a couple of fingers on his right hand, and had a scar from a burn that engulfed most of his left leg. But he wasn't completely rugged, Trollud had long, braided red hair which was braided right into his beard. When he grinned a checkered pattern of teeth could be seen, with smaller crooked teeth ripping through the gums.
Then there was Maeg, the littlest of the giants three. Scrawny, lithe limbs that lumbered along the land. Maeg dragged his knuckles, carving canyons as he walked. And like a tree, his penis swung from side to side, smacking each thigh as he took long strides. Maeg was bald, not a hair on his head, and his skin red as if he had seen too much sun. His elbows & knees were like knobs waiting to be turned.
Scabbath formulated a plan – he had only heard of giants in legends, he had no idea the stories of old would turn out to be true. Creatures as tall as mountains, surely their vision won't be able to focus on small things below, he thought to himself.
Quickly, he dug up the earth, covering himself in tufts of grass mounds. Scabbath was disguising himself to look like the ground beneath the giant's feet. He would creepeth upon the earth, and when the giants would pass right over him he could make his escape.
The mud from the rain made it easy for the grass mounds to stick to Scabbath. To an untrained eye he looked like a large mound of grass. It was a perfect plan, there is no way for giants so tall to see the tiny details to give away his disguise, he would fool them.
Krenchyl led the giants into a frenzy, attacking a herd of Sheldabeasts. A Sheldabeast is a wild cattle like mammal, with two horns upon its head, and a shell similar to an armadillo's that runs from the crown of its head to the end of its rump.
Sheldabeasts ran wild in every direction hoping to escape the bloodthirsty giants. Their shells would not help them from such large creatures, it was meant more for other animals their own size. Giants however were of a different breed all together.
Scabbath crawled across the ground, keeping his eyes on the giants. However, he suddenly froze in a stoic gaze as the three of them engaged in buggery, covered in blood. Scabbath was unable to move, nor would be look away. He was not going to be beat out by their primal instincts.
The earth shifted beneath tremendous feet, drastically changing the landscape. Footprints turned into shallow ponds, and clusters of them into lakes, however temporary.
Mud splattered high into the heavens above, raining down like mortars of war. Their inclusion creating new hills to be traversed. The mania of a giant's frenzy is filled with immeasurable chaos, at least to human standard.
A Sheldabeast panic did not help the circumstance any. Instead it caused the giants to frantically swing about, hoping to catch any Sheldabeast within its grasp.
Scabbath knew he didn't have much time. He had to make his move in this moment, or it could be forever lost. He strategically creepeth upon the ground, using mounds created by the large flung mud piles as cover. The chaos of feeding was another distraction on his side to allow him to escape past these giants.
He ran from one bit of cover to another. However the footsteps of the giants caused the earth beneath his feet to quake and rumble. He lost balance, teetering toward the ground, he slipped, splashing into a puddle. As he tried to regain balance a giant foot came right for his location.
With quick reflex he rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding being squashed under the tremendous weight of the monster directly above him. Its foot moved onward to take the next step, the suction caused Scabbath to get pulled into the footprint's puddle.
Water quickly rushed in, Scabbath fighting to find footing. His disguise holding up surprisingly well, he thought as he checked himself out. But looked up too late as a fast approaching Sheldabeast rammed into him, sending Scabbath flying back ten or so feet.
He landed hard, the blow knocked him right out of his disguise. As he fought to regain the wind knocked from his lungs, as well as the strength to stand up, he took notice to a giant staring his way. Scabbath had caught Maeg's attention.
Scabbath scrambled upward, running away from the giant who only hungered for flesh. He now had to conjure a plan of combat if running was not going to work out. And with the much larger strides of the giants, it seemed inevitable that Scabbath would have to turn and face the attackers head on.
Luckily for Scabbath, Maeg was the only one of the giants to notice him. A gaunt looking Maeg lurched forward with an unusual gait, grinning with a grimace on his face. His tree trunk swung back and forth, Scabbath taking notice for the timing of his attack.
Scabbath ran forward, knife in hand. Maeg bending forward had his hands ready to grab his prize. However, Scabbath was faster, for he evaded the clutching, twisted, gnarly hands of Maeg the red giant.
The sharpened blade found its way into Maeg's massive member, cutting deep into it. Scabbath using the blade as a piton in the giant's penis, climbing with the other hand. Maeg moved into a frenzy of fear for he felt immense pain and desperately wanted to remove the source of it. Unfortunately for Maeg, Scabbath was quicker, maneuvering around the giant's piece away from his hands.
It was at that moment Maeg let out a howl that would echo across the plains of Ulstoria which the other giants would take notice to. Scabbath managed to make it up to the giant's belly button before either Krenchyl or Trollud could make it to Maeg's aid.
Trollud felt it necessary to protect the trio, with boulder in hand he swung for Scabbath. However, Scabbath had anticipated an attack, he had dropped down at the last moment. The force of the blow from the boulder in Maeg's gut caused him to let out a rush of gas which filled the air with noxious fumes.
Scabbath's eyes watered, he desperately held his breath as he tried to escape. However the giants blocked an easy path, so his only way was over or under, and under didn't look possible. With quick motion Scabbath did a three step run up onto Trollud's knee, leaping off of his leg, aiming for the sword which sticks out from his eye. In mid-air Scabbath managed to grab the sword with both hands, it coming free from the eye socket, causing him to fall. With quick reaction Scabbath grabbed the giant's beard climbing his way up its head.
Maeg in great pain and angry from the assault was eyeing Trollud suspiciously. He then spotted his target, a man climbing up his companion's beard! This one will not get away! With great force Maeg swung both hands in a double axe-handle like maneuver toward the man, only to miss and knock Trollud clean.
Surprised by the attack Trollud stumbled back, nearly falling to the ground. Angry at Maeg he takes up both of his arms, clutching him by the throat. Trollud has strength over Maeg, whom is fighting to get the grip off of his throat, only to fail and later return the grip to Trollud's throat.
Krenchyl unamused at her suitors' quarrel lurched over in a hurry. Her clawed hands came up softly, gently to the back of each of their heads. Soothed by her touch they loosened the grip on each other's throats. WHAM! Both Maeg's and Trollud's heads had collided, Krenchyl knocking both of them together hoping to knock some more sense into them.
Scabbath had taken this moment to distance himself from the malicious brutes. He ran and ran, he never wanted to look back, but, unfortunately for him he had to. Despite his distance from the trio, his scent was on their trail.
As Scabbath ran the earth quaked. The giants pursued and were approaching fast. He had no where to go – death would become him if he could not find a solution. His exile would be short lived, like those that came here before him.
On the distant horizon there was a valley. Scabbath barely spied the valley, but he made haste for it none-the-less. He engaged in to a full on sprint, and no matter how much his being hurt, he pressed on. He ran as if his life depended on it – because it did. Scabbath's legs and lungs hurt beyond imagination, but, pushed beyond limits, he could not stop, he would not stop.
As the giants closed in Scabbath was nearly to the valley. However, the ground was largely uneven, rocks littered the landscape. The urgency of the situation combined with the surplus of rocks and the careless speed of Scabbath caused the horrific accident. At the worst possible moment in his life, he twisted his ankle, falling to the shale below. The valley was just out of reach.
Krenchyl hobbled forward, her prey in sight. It has been many decades since her lips have touched the tasty morsel that is man. And the best part is, she does not have to share if she does not want to. Man's meat is succulent, unlike any other beast you can get on Ulstoria. Sweeter even than the troglodytes which inhabit Ulstoria's many caverns, for their meat was a gamey taste.
With desperation flowing through his veins, Scabbath stood up, sword as a crutch. Hobbling as fast as he could, the valley drew closer, but the giants were faster. Not to die a coward he turned around to face them head on, sword raised.
HAROOOOOOOOT! A loud sound echoed from out of the valley. Whatever it was caused a bit of confusion in the giants. Scabbath noted that and made way for the valley's maw.
Scabbath had made it within an arm's reach of the entrance to the valley, but it was too late. Krenchyl, the leader of the giants scooped him up, squeezing his body tightly in her mighty hand. She smiled, several rows of teeth showing from the toothy chasm that is her mouth. The warm stench of her breath soured his nostrils. She drew him closer to eat the exile.
HAROOOOOOOOT! The loud sound came from the valley again, amplified by it's walls. It almost sounded like a horn of sorts. This caused a pause in Krenchyl's action, affording Scabbath enough time to wriggle his sword arm free. And without looking at the exile, her eyes searching for the source of the sound, she brought him closer. Scabbath stabbed the sword into the roof of her mouth, stopping all advancement of her meal, at least for the moment.
Without much pause to the action a hail of primitive spears sank into Krenchyl's arm, causing her to drop her intended meal. The wounds were superficial, but the surprise caught her off guard.
Scabbath crashed hard to the shale below. He was barely conscious, his body wracked with pain. He couldn't move a muscle, he was wrecked. As he lay there several figures he could not make out were staring down at him. And without warning, a dozen or so hands clawed at his flesh, hoisting him up. Carried away from the lunacy that was the giants, he was brought into the valley. However, he was too weak to struggle out of their grasp. Scabbath didn't know who they were or what they wanted. But, judging from their grunts and aggressive hold onto him, he felt his life in danger.
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