The Blood Tears

The ancient archway built into the side of the cave had been around far longer than the cult that now inhabited the caves it granted access to. Once those caves had been a place for citizens of the nearby towns to go in case of an invasion or mortal danger that they needed to hide from, but now the cave was inhabited by cultists. Cultists who hid behind masks as they knew what they were doing was wrong.

There were four cultists outside of the cave, each one wearing a mask and dressed in cark, silken robes. They carried weapons.

From an opposing cliff face a Stranger watched them. The Stranger was a dark-skinned man, seemingly native to the Western nations, who was lying on his belly, observing the scene from a vantage point up and about fifty feet away from the cultists. He had tracked the cultists down to this hidden place. Usually, he would watch the place for days on end, studying every movement and investigating every nook and cranny to make certain that there weren't any secret ways in or out for the cultists to escape, but this time he didn't have time for that.

This time, the cultists had a sacrifice. A human sacrifice.

The cultists had kidnapped a young girl, no older than fifteen summers. A virgin, innocent soul. These cultists, whoever they were, were likely serving an Evil Touched Wizzard, a wizard who gained magic power by making a pact with Satin, or The Enemy, and they strengthened their power through service of The Enemy, and through sacrificing the lives of God's children in the name of The Enemy. This put The Stranger on a time crunch, and he had no idea how long his timer was.

The Stranger crept forward, the small, odd shield strapped to his leather-clad right arm glimmering in the light of the setting sun. the shield was small, like a buckler shield, but not only was oddly thick and dome-shaped, but it was strapped to his arm in a way to make his hand to. The shield curled up in an unusual, and seemingly impractical fashion, rounding into a ball-like shape over his right hand. Concealed discreetly under a lip of metal, in reach of The Stranger's right thumb, there were two small switches, and visible under the shield there was complicated machinery and clockwork.

The Stranger, after getting within twenty feet of the door, raised his shield arm and pointed his right fist at the cultists.

The Stranger looked closely at the cultists and smiled. They had made it easy for him! All of the cultists wore the same steel mask.

The Stranger grinned, reaching back with his left hand to the handle of a large, two-handed blade that was mostly concealed under his dirty, patched-up black cloak. He partly drew his giant blade as he rose slowly from his stomach to one knee, hidden behind a thick bush. The Stranger waited for the right moment as the cultists wandered around, talking to one another. Eventually, three of them stood near enough to each other, with the fourth standing behind them. The Stranger, seizing the opportunity, gently flipped the first switch on his shield.

With a thud the front of the shield detached and was propelled toward the cultist as fast as an eye could blink, a cord of steel trailing behind it back into The Stranger's shield. When the steel ball was in the middle of the group The Stranger flipped the second switch. Suddenly, the little steel ball turned into a magnet, pulling itself into the ground with so much force it cracked the stones, and this magnet also pulled on the cultist's masks. The first three cultists were jerked so suddenly and strongly by the head that all three of their necks snapped in that instant, and their limp bodies were pulled together by the head and were slammed face-first into the ground. Simultaneously, the machinery in the shield began to whir, and the shield pulled The Stranger at great speed toward the magnetized steel ball, his cloak flying behind him and his sword in his other hand. He switched the switches back into place, and the metal ball retracted back into his shield as his momentum kept him flying forward, he stabbed the fourth cultist before the man could even make a sound. The Stranger's momentum kept him going for another few yards before he rolled and skidded to a stop on one knee. The Stranger stood and looked over the bodies of the men he had killed. One looked about the right size, and the fourth cultist mask was undamaged.

"I thank you for your service, but now you may depart," The Stranger said, seemingly to himself. Then the man's black cloak and dark studded leather armor darkened, and in strips faded away into the shadows, silvery light filtering out from under the strips of shadow. His sword faded away, and his shield melted into shadow. He now wore a plain tunic and plain trousers, and he stood barefoot in the cold canyon.

The Stranger shivered in the cold. He had forgotten that he was wearing this.

The Stranger quickly took the robes from one of the cultists who looked about his size and took the fourth cultist's mask. He then walked into the archway, following the long, twisting path. Soon he heard a muttered chanting, which grew stronger and louder as he walked forward. He heard a cheer, and he picked up the pace, turning a corner and nearly running right into the back of a cultist.

"Hey! What are you doing?" The cultist asked turning around. "Who are you?"

"Errm," The Stranger stammered, surprised. "Stranger danger?"

The cultist, a rather large man, stood there for a second, and then he laughed.

"I like you. You must be new! Come on, the boss is about to make the sacrifice. I'll get you to the good seats!"

That was easy, The Stranger thought, and he followed the man.

The man led The Stranger further into the cave, and to a large cavern. inside there was a throng of cultists crowding the space, maybe forty or fifty total, who all were listening with rapt attention to a tall, handsome man in a grand suit of armor. The Stranger's guide started to shove through the crowd, saying, "Get! Scoot! Move!" carving a path for The Stranger straight through the middle of the room.

Some cultists gave him dirty looks, but The Stranger wasn't here to make friends. Quite the contrary.

As The Stranger got deeper into the room he could better hear the words of the cult leader.

"Just this last year, this sect has gathered more souls for the Master than any other!"

The cultists around me cheered, raising fists and weapons in salute.

"But there is more! His lordship wishes to extend his thanks, in the form of a grand feast held in your honor!"

The Cultists went wild, going into a frenzy of excitement.

This man is not the wizard, The Stranger thought. He probably is a wizard, but this will be a lesser wizard serving a greater master. This particular cult is larger than I had suspected. How have I not even heard of them before?

Then The Stranger reached the front of the room, right in front of a raised stage made of stone, with a blood-stained altar under a rough statue.

Oh dear, The Stranger thought.

The statue was the statue of a man, about six feet tall, with his hands held out to either side, wearing a long robe. The man's face was split into three, the one in the middle being a rather handsome young man, the second, on the left was the rotting, decaying face of an undead, and the third on the right being the face of a goat.

In front of the altar was the speaker, his face sweaty from excitement and the heavy, mostly ornamental armor he was wearing.

"And now, our latest sacrifice to our lord's power!"

The man stomped his foot, and the ground rippled like water in front of him. The man reached into the earth and pulled the girl from it.

The girl, no older than fifteen, shivered in the cold cavern. She wore nothing but a pail blue nightgown that flowed down around her ankles, her pail brown arms wrapped around herself. Her dark hair spilled around her shoulders and fell over dark, terrified eyes as the monstrous cultists laughed and cheered and jeered.

The Stranger's heart ached to see this young girl in this horrible situation. Now, he was definitely killing everyone in the room.

The speaker grabbed the girl by the arm, and yanked her roughly over to the alter, shoving her onto the top as she fought him, screaming angrily. The stone of the altar warped and wrapped around the girl's wrists, trapping her on the altar.

The girl pulled against the binds and looked up at the lead cultist with a hatred that could have killed, and growled, "I'll kill all of you! All of you!"

The speaker laughed. "We have a lively one here!" The cultists around me laughed uproariously, jeering and catcalling at the girl.

The speaker pulled from his robe a very strange dagger, with three edges twisted in a horrific-looking spiral of sharp edges. The girl's eyes widened at the sight of the knife.

Then the cultists started chanting. They chanted in unison, swaying from side to side as they did. The speaker slowly, and menacingly, walked around the altar, behind the girl as her stone binds jerked her around, forging her onto her back, tears streaming from her face.

As the speaker raised his knife, The Stranger pulled off the mask. He called upon the power within himself, the power of the night, and forced it into the mask, causing it to shimmer. As the knife reached its apex, The Stranger threw the mask.

It wobbled as it flew, but it made it right in front of the speaker. That was when it exploded into a flash of moonlight as bright as the sun.

The cultists, including the speaker, shrieked or screamed in pain and grabbed at their eyes. The Stranger stepped up on stage, lowering this hood, and walked up to the altar, where the girl lay, unblinded by the light.

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

She nodded, stunned.

"Good," The Stranger told her, breaking her stone bindings with my bare hands. After she was standing he handed her two small, carved rocks. "I am going to need you to take these, leave the cavern, and throw one down at the entrance from about five feet away. The second is for emergencies."

Then The Stranger handed the girl a dagger.

"This is a last resort," he told her. "Now go."

She ran to the door as the cultists shook their heads blearily, clearing their sight, and threw one of the stones down at the entrance. The stone grew into a large bolder in an instant, immediately closing the cavern off completely as the cultists finally regained their sight.

The Stranger stepped to the side suddenly, dodging as the speaker attempted to stab him. The Stranger then grabbed the man's arm, twisting it so that the man screamed in pain and dropped the knife, which The Stranger caught in his free hand, and swiftly stabbed the man at the base of the neck, the strange, swirled blade easily pierced into the man's flesh, and as The Stranger pulled the knife out it trailed the man's blood, leaving an inch wide hole at the base of the man's neck, he died before he hit the floor.

The Stranger dropped the now bloody knife on the floor, and said, "For better or worse, I need your power. Return to me at this hour!"

The shadows in the corners of the room stretched toward warren, and silvery light trailed out from the shadows, including The Stranger's own shadow and the shadows of the cultists, and the silvery light wove together into The Stranger's dark leather armor and thick, dirty, black, patchy, mud marked cloak.

The Stranger's shield swirled into existence on his right arm, and The Stranger drew his large, two-handed sword out of his own shadow.

"Would you lot like to dance?" The Stranger asked menacingly.

~~

Drellin Shivered in the cold, dark cave, waiting for something to happen. after being kidnapped by those cultists, she had thought she would die! But that man had saved her. She had no idea what her savior had done, or how, but now she was alive thanks to him.

But now he was trapped with those cultists. She had no idea how many of them there had been, but she was worried about the stranger.

after she had been sitting there for what felt like hours, but was more than likely just minutes, the stone that blocked the cavern shifted, and shrank. The stranger stepped out, dressed in black and carrying a giant sword that dripped with blood.

"Let's get you home," The Stranger said.

"Thank you, sir," Drellin said, tears in her eyes, as she shivered. "Please, may I know your name?"

The Stranger unclasped his cloak, and wrapped it around Drellin's shoulders, instantly making him look much smaller.

"Call me Warren," Warren said.

"Thank you Warren," Drellin said. "Thank you."

"Of course," Warren said. "Now, let's leave this horrible place, and get you home."

And they left.