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Altrez falters completely, yet he is still inseparable from the conduit in his hands. The vessel of the Beast that it is, it begins thrashing against his grip.
Blood flows freely from his busted lip, from the gashes across his face, from the many more lashes to come. The Beast bellows for him to rise, but in some subconscious fear of its own, it won"t take control of his body. He can sense its fear, just as it can sense his. They"ve both sensed their untimely demise, it seems. Altrez can only wonder how the Beast has coped with its newly-found mortality for so long, because now, the thing has begun chanting and wailing for him to fight back.
"RISE. RISE. RISE," it cries.
The sound is haunting, like the screams of a thousand wailing children, the howls of dying wolves, the sickly, demented sound of his own voice croaking. It has begun speaking through him.
"ALTRE"EZ NAFL"FHTAGN EHY... HAVE YOU NO SELF-PRESERVATION, MORTAL? YOU"VE FOUGHT DEVILS, BEASTS, HORRORS, YET YOU CHOOSE TO FALTER TO LOWLY SCUM?"
It roars with a might strong enough to rip his throat in two.
A deafening noise, but not enough to drown out the battle cries of brigand troops. They would come to realize the whole hamlet has been evacuated, including its dungeonseekers; it was only him among the rubble and limelight.
...and the Beast, if It"s agonizing screams were to be considered.
"YOU WISH TO DIE? JUST TO SAVE THE SKINS OF MEN WHO DO NOT SERVE YOU PURPOSE?"
Altrez scoffs, forcefully pushing the Beast from control. His head aches as if it were to explode and his throat itches with the urge to keep screaming, but he knows better.
"You and I both know these people have done more for me than anyone else has; I"ve merely returned the favor." He unsheathes his dagger from its satchel and raises it to the light by its hilt.
The lime and fire reflect onto the blade to reveal the etches of a signature, Balt"s signature, the only real hope in his hell. Balt fought well, even as his tendrils ripped the Bountyhunter away from battle and forced him to retreat. His yelling was so full of hate and rage, begging him not to be so foolish.
It may have wounded Altrez"s ego.
But Dismas and Reynauld shouldn"t die so soon, and neither should Balt. It was a simple and rather mindless choice. The only thing that made sense.
"I"ve given my efforts to ensure this Hamlet will survive, and I will continue to do so."
There is a madman shrieking ahead of them now, ripping through the piles of debris and fallen soldiers. He hears the lot of them all at once:
The fatal thrashing of a whip.
The clinking of their trinkets and baubles.
The bellowing of their leader.
With the last show of strength he can bare, he stands. His legs shake as if he were a newborn calf, but it is enough to keep upright.
"Help me show these uncivilized men their place, old friend. Share this power with me."
It growls like a threatened bloodhound, but his own mind is too sedated to find it terrifying. It speaks, but this time reverberating from within. It is not just It speaking, but several of them.
"IF YOU DO THIS TO EXCUSE YOUR ACTIONS, YOU WILL HAVE ALREADY FAILED. THE KARMIC RETRIBUTION OF YOUR FAULTS WILL FOREVER HAUNT YOUR PATHETIC MIND." Altrez crumbles to the ground, overtaken by sound and sight. In truth, he had forgotten. What he had done, he surely could atone. His grip weakens, and the skull slips from his grasp. "IT IS IN YOUR NATURE. YOU HAVE NOT CHANGED. NEITHER HAVE I."
Suddenly, his body rejects his control. The dagger is whipped away, finding its place in the eyesocket of an unforeseen gunman. The man sputters, hitting the wall of men behind him before being trampled in their path.
"Please! WE were supposed to do this together," Altrez yells from within. "This is not what I want! We must fight in unison!"
There is no response. At all, not even a grunt or a laugh. His heart - his pounding heart -
He cries in abject horror.
His heartbeat is no longer pulsating through him or the Beast. He"s died. A walking corpse controlled only by the forces.
He can feel himself drift away from his body as the worldly connection severs. It can no longer hear him, but he hears it loud and clear, its foreign language far overpowering the sounds of the brigands. Wealding HIS powers, HIS body...
He cannot stand to die so powerless.
With his last remaining semblance of life, he wills himself into the Beast"s mind. A complete reversal of their roles. In any other situation, Altrez would have laughed at such a thought, but he"s chanting and screaming feverishly as he forces himself into the limelight once again. The Beast screams, ripping the edges of his mind, burning and boiling his physical body, ripping his skin in two, but he continues. The pain is astounding.
He croaks with what is left of his voice, whispering to the Beast. Perhaps as a show of power, perhaps in true sorrow, Altrez cannot decide.
"I am sorry," he yells.
The final thing he and the Beast feels is the involuntary buckle of his legs as a final strike of an ax is lodged into the back of his skull.
He screams, it screams, and the world is finally black.