Those Who Worship The Eye

Discussion in 'Original Works' started by Charles Nicol, Oct 18, 2018.

  1. Charles Nicol

    Charles Nicol New Member

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    I am a independent writer who wants to grow his audience, I am hoping to use this site to post some of my stories in hopes that someone likes it and might want to buy some of my ebooks on amazon kindle. Here are a few links to my amazon books and chapter 1 of a novella I am writing. Please enjoy and tell me what you think, I thrive on constructive critiques.


    https://www.amazon.com/Dragons-Ichor-Mythos-Book-ebook/dp/B076XV6LJ9

    https://www.amazon.com/Storm-Ichor-...D=41u%2BhIp-xzL&preST=_SY445_QL70_&dpSrc=srch

    Chapter I - The Home Of Brute Clover


    Ethereal lotion with a pinkish tint poured onto a pair of hands that never suffered a days toil, the healing liquid overflowed, wastefully it dripped onto the floor. Finally after a mound of the priceless substance was poured it became smothered between two fat palms, as it sloshed back and forth thick globs of the lotion flew around. A small drip would have sufficed, spreading it by careful across ones body, but the master of the house demanded a constant hedonistic amount at his disposal. Whether he choose to waste it or not was his business, as was extortion, murder, and indulging in things I wish I didn’t know.



    “Damned eyepatch itches.” I said to myself as I witnessed that display.


    I peeled back the black leather patch over my right eye and felt at the wound. Pus trailed as I pulled back my finger when I finished examining it, it smelt bitter, that wasn’t good. Months since losing my eye and it still itches and oozes disgusting fluids, the wound where my eye was had almost healed but there was a slit there that kept throbbing, no doubt an infection from my rather unhygienic lifestyle. If nothing is done I’ll have to take my knife to the wound and burn away all rot, that wouldn’t be a pleasant experience, I know I had to do it to my big to big toe, or rather half my big toe.

    My eyes though were special to me, they reminded me of my mother, seeing her ruby red eyes always gave me comfort, and losing depth perception was a hassle. I would go to a priest to get my wound examined, though in my experience holymen do not treat those they consider hellspawn. Yes goblins, even half goblins never get the best of medical treatment, not like humans would know the difference.

    I am one of the last of my race left in the world, some would consider it my duty to strive to live to continue the goblin bloodline. Trying to survive in this world alone and as a goblin isn’t easy, most curatives don’t work on me because of my rock hard skin, my pitch black tone is marred by many ugly scars that I had to treat myself. For my recent infection however the best chance to cure it before it festers was to infiltrate the estate of Brute Clover, the only known maker of the rejuvenating lotion I need. Lovers Kiss it is called, a ridiculous name that I’m sure Clover named himself.

    High in demand it is sold in limited quantities despite Brutes high stock in the stuff, from what I observed old Brute enjoys to smother his obese body with it, though I wish I hadn’t. Thankfully what I witnessed was only half burned into my vision due to the loss of my right eye, I tend to look for the bright, which helped me to size up the estate defences. The thirty foot tall brick wall around the main building was easy to scale due to it being close to more humble homes in that part of the city.

    Those shacks that surrounded the wall didn’t reach the top, but they provided me a jumping point, I’d leap into the air and latch walls with my long, hard nails. Digging into the seams of the wall I ascend with little trouble, do mostly to my lean muscular limbs. The best time to do this was at night, when the lights of the city of Zealont were dying down, covering my dark form as I scaled the wall. I climbed that wall back and forth for four nights in a row so I could probe the estate, the first night was finding the best place to scale the wall, which was covered by the most darkness and offered the best view of the estate grounds.

    The second night I infiltrated the courtyard, I saw that there were guards posted at the front and back gate, nine of them patrolled the outside of the manor, including the garden and tiled walkway. I studied the movements, listened to them and picked the right time to invade their employers sanctuary. During the third night I climbed the side of the manor, it was twice the height of the wall that surrounded it, covered with towers, balconies, and large windows. I don’t like to think about that night, because that was the night when I was around the fourth floor and I looked through a open window to see him naked.

    It was painful to see a body covered in horrible mounds of fat stretching dark pinkish skin to its limits, bathing in a large pool of the lotion he creates, it made me feel like vomiting even though goblins can’t vomit. Witnessing that horror made me tempted to just cut the infection out with my knife and burn wound shut, but my pride demanded I get that lotion. Since I left the care of my parents I desired to see the world, but that naivety died quickly. Witnessing cruelty, tyranny, and venomous bigotry against me and others made me somewhat despise the world I adapted to, thievery seemed the only honest code I could survive by.

    Truthfully I was envious of the humans, the wonder instilled in me by my mothers stories of the old goblin realms shattered, by the world as it became, just like my father warned. Stealing from the human nobles was never about reparations for the past, it was just the profession I choose, the only one that keeps me fed, and gifted with certain luxuries. Soldiers risk death or capture for their ale, families, and whores, a thief risks the same for a whole lot more, the treasures I’ve taken fill my home like trophies to a sportsman. I suppose the thrill in knowing the power you hold is almost euphoric, to walk into the most securest of places without anyone knowing you were there had a overwhelming power over me, Miller Crap goblin thief.

    That is why I returned to the estate for a fourth night, I climbed the wall but as I climbed I noticed the estate was very quiet. No guards were at the gate either, I found that suspicious, lifting myself onto the rise of bricks and mortar I found no guards on patrol in the courtyard. The windows were all closed, and the lights were out except for a faint orange glow, I could see it through the closed balcony doors at the top floor of the manor.

    My hard skin rolled up in ruffles, that is what goblins do instead of getting goosebumps, something wasn’t right. I could feel it, the air was cold even though it was the middle of summer, and I couldn’t hear any citylife except off in the distance. All the lights in that part of the city were off except for the glow of full moon and the orange glow in that estate. Still wanted to go through with the job because my wound throbbing painfully as pus leaked out of my eye patch. I desired a relief from that pain, even though it was going against my gut feeling that lost me my eye in the first place.

    Despite my gut feeling I climbed down the wall into the garden and crouched down under the bushes. Slowly I crawled towards the side of the manor, like many times before I perked up my sensitive pig like ears to listen for any sound. All I heard was my own quiet breathing, that often means I am sneaking into a trap, my distinctive mug was drawn onto many wanted posters, with orders to kill on sight. Especially in Zealont the holy city, here my very presence was considered sacrilege.

    That didn’t stop me from robbing the Stone Towers, home of the stone queen, I stole a bag of her most valuable precious stones, I wanted one as a replacement eye but the shine made me stand out in the dark too much, so I use them as paper weights and doorstops. Opening a locked window on the ground level of the manor I slipped into the darkness and could already smell my prize, the honey smell of the lotion filled the manor. Figuring I could find some easy I searched the dark manor, luckily goblins can see in the dark but it is all in shades of red, but in the dark my depth of feel is hampered, and even more so since I lost my eye. Going through the window I came into the parlor finding no trace of Lovers Kiss, no bottles, jars, nothing, but the scent teased me as it guided me into the hallway. There I saw the walls were covered in paintings but with my night vision I can’t see what look like; I could only imagine what images Clover had obsessively adorned in his home.

    From what I overheard in town the ground floor and second floor up were used to entertain guests, so of course it would be filled with amenities of a boastful host, game tables, expensive art pieces, and banquet halls. I haven’t seen kings with such sinful indulgences inside their castles, but this nobleman had the desire to erected a tribute to gluttony in his home. During my search I opened the doors to the banquet hall and instantly my senses was assaulted by the smell of rotting piles of food. Remains of a past feast had drawn flies inside the cavernous room, there buzzing mixed well with the toxic smell trapped in there with the flying pests. Even the sweet scent of Lovers Kiss didn’t mask the smell of moulding fruit, it must’ve been left there since the last feast. The greedy lord of the house probably only hires staff to clean his home before he throws a party, by the state of the hall.

    Closing shut tight the doors I continued my search in the other rooms on the ground floor, after a careful search I found no trace of the healing lotion. So I decided head upstairs, climbing the grand staircase since it was made with stone, and I couldn’t have to worry about creaking floorboards. My feet touched the carpeted steps silently, I remained cautious even though I heard nothing in the house, because my gut still told me something was wrong. The thought of came to me as I climbed those stairs that perhaps the nobleman decided on a spontaneous holiday, but my wise cynicism reminded me that it didn’t explain, why he didn’t leave guards to watch over his estate in his absence?

    Explanations kept pouring into my mind up till I set foot at top of the stairs where I saw nothing, stunned my night vision became blinded by absolute blackness, then I heard something, so quickly I tried to retreat down the stairs but the way had been sealed off. Then I white light flared up and completely blinded me, its intensity burned my eye, causing me to fall to my knees in agony as I tried to see what was causing it with my tear soaked eye.
     
  2. Charles Nicol

    Charles Nicol New Member

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    Here is chapter 2 for anyone who wants to know what is going to happen.



    Chapter II - Imprisonment In The Manor


    Before my eye could adjust to the blinding white light my sight suddenly darkened, that disoriented me, making me lose my sense of balance and in a state of confusion I fell over. My head hit hard against the cobblestone ground, my vision danced and blurred as if I was peering into a kaleidoscope. But no amusement from a royals toy chest could give me such agonizing sensations of being unbound from my own body, it was as if my soul was trying to escape but was trapped inside my body. Thankfully such foolish thinking passed as I managed to become conscious about my predicament, I was no longer inside the manor.

    Somehow by witchcraft, elaborate traps, or some other bizarre circumstance I was sprawled in the courtyard of the manor, laying on the cobblestone with a terrible headache. Staring into the starlit sky, I saw the stars shine like jewels and the moon, which had recently gone through a disturbing change. What was before a orb in the sky that offered a pale light in the dark night was now a giant eye, colored blood red its large pupil seemed transfixed upon me at all times. Standing up I cautiously moved away and saw the gaze of the enormous eye in the sky follow me, the sense of dread caused me to go into a fit of panic.

    I scurried up the brick wall trying to escape whatever doom I feared was going to fall upon my head. Climbing like a frenzied squirrel I managed to reach the top of the brick wall, but I noticed the stones felt a little less solid than before as my nails dug into them, choosing to ignore that I reached the top and stopped. I wanted to see a stretch of citylife with places to hide and escape from the glare of the eye, but I was trapped. The walls ended at a sheer drop that seemed to end hundreds of feet below at an expanse of tiled floor.

    Frozen in shock I started to understand the full extent of my terrifying situation, I was scaled down to the size of a doll in a model of Clover’s estate, placed on a table, inside a room in the manor. Once the reality of what happened settled in my mind like a tick latched onto a dog I looked up with a fresh perspective and saw that the eye belonged to a human whose skin was so black it blended into the darkness of the room. Bright yellow teeth slowly appeared as the man grinned a slimy smile, his hands then gripped both sides of the model and tilted it to one side. The tilt to one side in my miniature world caused me to lose my footing and I fell back into my prison.

    Thankfully my muscles responded to my instinct to survive and I latched onto the wall then climbed back down to the model’s courtyard.


    “What are you doing savage?” bellowed a voice that was as loud as thunder.


    The red eye drew to the side and the shock of the voice caused him to let go of the model, it immediately fell back into its proper place, the shift caused me to smack against the wall and fall down to the grass covered ground. Fortunately I managed to get down far enough that the fall didn’t do too much damage, but I was going to have to use some of that lotion on my backside, if I managed to get it and escape alive. The grass in the model I noticed was very real feeling but had a toughness unlike normal grass, in fact the closer I looked at the model the more I noticed missing details in the manor, courtyard, and brick wall. Everything had a flimsy feel to it, and it wasn’t altogether exact to what the real estate looked like, I imagined it was all crafted by a moderately talented craftsman.


    “Lord Brute,” I heard a equally loud voice say “I was just preventing your new plaything from escaping its pen.”


    Upon hearing that I knew my role in this situation, instead of being at the mercy of a disgustingly fat noble I decided to hide. Quickly I ran across the courtyard and came to the replica manor, I opened a window and snuck inside hastily, once inside I saw that the interior of the model manor was as exact to the real one as feasibly possible. Some things decals weren’t present but the layout was the exact same; hearing footsteps coming closer I sought out a hiding place as I listened to the giant humans speak.


    “S’lovchi I know better than to trust you with my prisoners,” said Brute Clover “the last one to fall into my trap you decided to feed to my cat, poor thing choked to death on him.”


    “And I apologize for that… indiscretion” S’lovchi said “but this one actually managed to scale the wall, he was trying to escape.”


    Peering out the windows of the small manor I got a glimpse of the Brute and his black skinned underling gaze down at the model. A shiny sheen was all over Brute, he likely applied his body with more Lovers Kiss.


    “Where is our new guest?” asked Brute as his eyes scanned the model.


    S’lovchi quickly searched the model and didn’t see a trace of me, he had a angry expression on his face.


    “Probably scurried off to hide like the mouse he is” he answered.


    “Yes well” Brute said “I don’t expect he can escape my hospitality, he’ll come out eventually… when he needs some sustenance.”


    Then the obese lord of the house gave a deep chuckle that caused his multiple fat lumps under his chin to jiggle, S’lovchi joined in with a squealing giggle.


    “Your listening aren’t you? You little rat.” S’lovchi said. “There is no food in there except wax fruit and wooden cheese, if you don’t want to starve you better come out.”


    Then he reached down and grasped the miniature manor and shook it roughly. Furniture inside fell over, the glass windows shook, and I stumbled over myself as I was jerked back and forth.


    A loud smack rang in my ears then the shaking stopped, Brute had slapped S’lovchi so hard he drew blood on the foreigners now cracked lip.


    “Foolish barbarian” Brute scolded “you’ll kill him, if he’s dead then we can’t use him.”


    Nodding in agreement S’lovchi licked the drooling blood from his lip, but his red eye showed a fierce hatred for his abusive superior.


    “Listen goblin,” Brute said loudly “your good fortune has come to an end, it is time for you to pay for your sins, I shall leave you for now, but when I return you better come out.”


    Brute’s bloated face was red as he gasped gluttonously for air, then the nobleman trotted to the door, and before closing it I heard him say something very interesting.


    “S’lovchi make sure to keep this door locked and barred until I return, I don’t want him escaping.”


    “Quiet fool.” S’lovchi snapped.


    Clearly Brute said something I wasn’t meant to hear, as I was contemplating its meaning Brute slapped his underling even harder than before. No words were spoken between those two but I saw them glare at one another, then Brute left slamming the door behind him causing the model to shake. Quickly I climbed up the manor’s many floors hoping to see what S’lovchi was doing, when I reached the third floor from the top I saw he was standing near the door. It was locked tightly with three bolts, and one large plank of wood placed across the door.

    Somehow that was a clue to my escape, surely they didn’t expect me scale down from the table and make my way across what would be miles of floor for me, no, something supernatural happened. They controlled a power that shrunk me down and put me at their mercy, however it clearly has a weakness. Settling down in a nearby sitting room, I sat on a miniature couch and thought about my situation. In my career as a thief I have encountered magical traps and bizarre situations before, but this was unique.

    Although Brute and S’lovchi could use this power it is surmisable that they don’t have full control over it, there is a way I can free myself. I was in a near exact model of the Clover estate, somehow while going through the manor I triggered some kind of trap, it must’ve been set to capture me, they knew I was coming. Should’ve listened to my gut, they knew I was gonna rob this place, perhaps I tipped my hand during my probes. Whatever it was it gave them the opportunity to snare me, Brute mentioned they did this before, but something was special about me, Brute was furious when my life was in danger.

    They probably wanted a goblin for it’s ichor, the blood in my veins is quite valuable to witches and heathens who worship the dead gods. At times I would buy information and enchantments with a vial of my blood, but only to select people. Goblin ichor is goblin blood distilled, it is used by alchemists to create elixirs and catalysts for magic spells. I could imagine Brute sees me as a fountain of youth to drink from whenever he has need, but I don’t much like the idea of being suckeled at by a bloated leech for the rest of my life. To escape I must find out the source of this power and work it out from there; of the two of them however Brute doesn’t seem the most adept at the magical arts, that role would fit best his abused underling.

    S’lovchi is a Nequ, they are native to west Eillain and are considered by the church to be just as worthy of genocide as goblins. The people of Zealont would execute Brute if they knew he employed what they would consider a dangerous heathen. From what I remember most Nequ believe in Yammu, a dead god of the yellow desert or what his faithful call the Dry Sea. Yammu is said to be the source of power for Nequ mystics when casting hexes, to do this a mystic must offer their god a tribute of sight.

    To verify my suspicions are on the right track I went to a window and looked at the Nequ who was standing guard at the door. I knew it he has only one eye, he must’ve set that trap to capture me; I wonder how Brute managed to get Nequ mystic under his thumb? I decided to leave that question unanswered for now since I figured out how to escape. Yammu, dead god of perception and clarity, the answered was right there in his title.

    That mystic was channeling the powers of his god to alter my perception of reality, whatever caused me to shrink was a elaborate illusion, and the key to shattering it was inside the model. I should’ve known from the start, why else use a miniature of the manor to trap prisoners if you really had the power to shrink them? Surely it isn’t the most convenient place to store captives, especially if you have to lure them out with threats of starvation, no it was necessary prop for the illusion to work. They probably don’t have full control over this power since they are clearly under the influence of this magical deception.

    Reminds me of what the old witch told me about magical illusions, to break them you merely needed a change in perspective. That made me think that if this model has the same room layout as the real one, then there’d be a room in it with it’s own model. Quickly I began to search every room of the manor, I started from the floor I was on and worked my way up, opening every door, discovering every secret chamber and passageway. Some places I made a mental note to rob later and others I made note never to see again; I didn’t understand how Brute can be so disgustingly fat yet adorn his home with sculptures of his full physique.

    My search was taking too much time, and I heard the sounds of Brute’s slow trots echoing outside. With time running out I had an idea, I looked out the windows and tried to find clues to where in the manor this room was; but the room was not very distinctive except for the white jewels imbedded into the ceiling. Rushing from window to window I stopped when I saw a orange glow, it was coming from a lamp that was placed on another table sever feet away from the model. A book was placed next to it, perhaps S’lovchi was reading it while waiting for his trap to spring?

    Raising my gaze I saw a set of doors with curtains drawn over them, they seemed to lead out onto a balcony. That was very familiar to me, quickly searching my memory palace I recalled seeing that light somewhere before, just as I found that memory a knock came at the door. Without hesitation I rushed upstairs till I reached the top floor, once I reached the top I heard S’lovchi starting to undo the locks. Brute hollered for the door to be open up just as I saw the top floor had one hallway hallway filled with dozens of doors.

    I had to find the right door before S’lovchi opened the door and locks it again, now they know they let a crucial detail slip they were less likely to take chances. At a frenzy pace I started to open doors, I needed to find the right door before it was locked again, with each door I opened I saw another storage room. My heart ached with effort and I gasped for air as I placed my hand on another knob as S’lovchi began to open the door. The knob turned in my grasp, I let go as it opened to S’lovchi, who I jumped back in complete surprise.

    Also taken off guard I took a step back and walked backwards into Brute’s bulbous gut, he suddenly was right behind me; all three of us stood aghast at what just happened.