hit counter code Fermentation 2
the World

Fermentation 2



The commander reached for a pouch on his belt, fiddling with the frozen straps that held it closed. The powder within had no effect on creatures of this world, but the effect on outsiders was paralyzing. He would only have one shot at it, any error would leave him facing a death worse than the one he had avoided only minutes ago. If his men were aware of the action he was planning they would strike him down before he could draw another breath. He was alone in his conspiracy, well not completely. In his sword hand he idly rubbed at the ring the mage had given him ten days ago.

The heavenly messenger stopped several paces from them. His hairless body armored in the style of the armorers of a generation gone by. The golden mail was the finest of its age and accented the beautiful features of the angelic creature.
No helmet, he thought to himself.
As the leader of his men, he rose and took a step toward the angel with all due reverence. In his off hand he flung a handful of silvery powder into the air around the angel. The effect was immediate. He could see the angel's eyes taking in the realization, helpless to react. In a flash the commander brought his blade around in an upward swing. The path of the blade changed its arc as the commander rolled his hand from front to back. At the completion of his swing the severed head of the angel fell to the snow at his feet.

Behind him he could hear the gasps of his compatriots. Their stunned reactions would not wait long. Acting in a fluid motion he dropped his sword and pick up the head. Uttering the keyword that triggered the ring, his reality began to shift. The snowy mountain was receding as the void came into focus. Around him he thought he heard the flutter of wings as he departed the frame.

The payment from the wizard for the head of an angel would be enough to secure a keep and servants worthy of nobility. How simple it was to tip heaven on its ear and claim one of its sons. His plan had worked flawlessly.


Arriving in a new frame he verified he had his treasure in hand. The ring of recall had worked just as the wizard had described. Ahead of him lay the villa of the wizard. The commander was no fool and he understood that wizards were not to be trusted in part or in whole. He had a contingency plan that would allow him to safely conclude his business here and secure his future. From his pack he produced the witch's bag. The sack had a special property that only allowed the person placing the item in the bag to remove it. Shoving the angel's head into the bag he heaved a sigh of relief. Only a few more preparations and he would have his meeting with the wizard.

He heard the sound of fluttering wings again like when he had departed the mountain. Looking around he saw nothing. He excused the sound as his imagination.
Guilt humph, don't try that on me, he thought to himself.
Weakness is all that regret breeds, he reminded himself. Hearing his master's words from the formative training of his youth.

Ahead on the path he spied the tree where the remainder of his cache of goods lie. The wind picked up slightly as he approached the tree. The smell of heather from the grassy meadow beyond soothed his edginess.

The tree overhead bristled slightly in the stiff breeze. There at the base of the tree was his pack and sword belt. He heard it again, what sounded like a flock of birds taking flight. He looked up sharply to the branches, but no birds were to be found. Then the leaves seemed to burst toward him, raining down on him. A weight struck him on both shoulders like giant hands shoving him to the ground. He struck wish such force that he could not draw another breath. A galaxy of stars swirled about him. He was on his back looking up at the underside of the tree. Blocking his view and standing on his chest was another angel, female by the structure of her physique. Struggling for breath he gasp against the weigh of eternity pressing down on him. With one hand he reached for the bag of powder on his hip. The angel grabbed his wrist with blinding speed and with preternatural strength squeezed until he heard the bones crush and splinter. She was bent low over him now still looking into his soul with what must pass for rage with her kind. Raising her other hand high over her head she brought it down on him. He only heard the first strike.