Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

---Unclaimed Mountains, Emerald City---

In the dim corner of a pub not far from the lively main roads of the city, sat and told a story. It was a popular one that came with the last groups of people, who all had the same thing to report. It gave hope to the people, stuck in the dreary, heated mountains.

As glamorous as Emerald City seemed, the lives of the people were dark and seldom with hope. Without many electronics, they hungered for entertainment. They gambled, they drank, and they listened to stories. The tales of people who survived in these lawless mountains.

This story was particularly like, as it gave hope to the little man. It was the story of Ceres, the Savior. There were many versions of witnesses that were saved themselves, but all of them went something like this.

“Out in the mountains are places all of you know and fear,” the old man began his tale.

“The camps of the bandits, the slave hunters. Those who wander the mountains to capture wanderers and merchants for their dark business. To keep the inhumane machine that is driving these mountains well-fed.

Ever since people set out to find their fortune in the No Man’s Land, they have also been there hunting for us,” the old man explained.

The listeners nodded. This was the common intro of the stories of Ceres. Next, the old man would tell them, how the people held there, without any hope for freedom, would be saved by a great lightning bird that would swoop from the sky and punish the villains.

Then Ceres and his mount Blotches, a weird creature with a long neck, would free the captured people, returning the freedom that was taken from them. It was a heartwarming story. Although they knew it was all just a children’s story, they indulged in the childishness, as the alcohol blurred the harsh reality.

However, this time, the storyteller diverged from the usual route.

“Those are the places you know, but there are places even worse, and you better pray to never even get close to them. Places that hold the creatures that are known in the south as the Hashing Birds. Atrocities, unholy combinations of technology and magic. Giant owls that swoop from the skies and whisk away any naïve wanderers.

Anyone unfortunate enough to end up in their claws, they bring back to their nest, if you may call it like that. Cold and dark places, where people are held like livestock in damp darkness. The only fate waiting for them, being torture and experiments.”

The old man’s voice drew in their attention as terrifying visions were painted in their minds. The tale he told was far from a story for children. The old man’s body shook as if he was remembering his own experience, making his words even more believable.

His story followed a group of merchants and their caravan, that had fallen into the claws of a swarm of hashing birds.

“One by one, the cells were emptied by their horrifying wardens, that had once been people like themselves. But now, they were just machines, covered in patches of human skin and dried blood. Their piercing red eyes so harrowing that it felt like they stared into the depths of their very souls.

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All they heard from those that left, were their screams in the distance and their fate when their screams fell silent. Only when they were taken themselves, would they find out the kind of torture chosen for them…”

The listener’s hearts raced as he described hair-raising experiments and rooms drenched in blood and littered with body parts. It felt like the fear and terror of the victims was palpable in the room. Nobody dared to take a sip from their drinks, enraptured by the narration of the storyteller.

“But then, when it was their turn to face the sick fate, they had fallen to- When they saw the tools that would sever their flesh and break their bones- Lightning struck! Arcs of blazing light filled the nest and brought light to the dark place.

They jumped back and forth. Out of the lights in the ceiling and the outlets in the walls. Between the tools of torture and their torturers, only evading the pitiful group of merchants, the few survivors of the caravan.

With loud clangs, the electrically locked doors shot open as the place was burned through by the power of the great saviors. And then, everything fell back into darkness, and they were left with the smell of ozone and the burned flesh of their wardens.

Like newborn children, the weak and malnourished survivors stumbled around in the dark, until a glimmer of light entered the dark corridors. The blast doors were opened from outside and they face a terrifying presence, a creature even more horrifying than the Hashing Birds- Blotches!

It was their blessing, as it was the mount of the great savior that had come to lead them outside. Soon after, a mighty eagle made of silver and pure lightning landed on its back, Ceres the Savior!”

Cheers broke the silence when the listeners were finally allowed to relax! In the end, it was the great savior who had come to save the day and end the evil nesting in those mountains. Then it followed the same schema as the other stories.

The survivors were released to freedom and able to recover what was left behind by other victims, to enable them to return to civilization, as the Savior continued on his quest for justice. Everyone clapped when the old man finally ended his story. His hat was filled with coins and his belly was filled with free drinks and food.

For a long while, even after the storyteller left in the night, people kept talking about his story, and guessing what he drew inspiration from.

…

It was as the stories told.

After killing the Hashing Bird in Morranto, Ceres had become their target, although Mike may not have believed it. His relatively calm journey was all thanks to the Parrot of Doom. The elemental was on a journey, chasing and hunting down the Hashin birds and their homes.

Over the course, he also often came across bandit camps in the mountains, one of the hunting spots for the Hashing Birds. He had killed the bandits and freed the people mostly to take the bread out of their mouths.

At that point, it did not know what happened to the people, but it knew that the sole purpose of these birds was collecting living beings. Ceres had been hunting for a while, before he came across the first “nest”, as the storyteller called it.

Ceres wouldn’t know that these places were high-tech laboratories that had been built across the Unclaimed mountains at an unknown point in time, but the elemental found about the effects its lightning had on them and their occupants.

As the bird followed the trail of the hashing Birds for petty vengeance, it accidentally created the tale of the great savior, simply by disregarding the survivors.

In the meantime, Ceres had traveled far to the west, all the way to the border storm, but signs of Hashing Birds had suddenly vanished. There were also no more “nests”, at least none it could see.

~Maybe it is time to turn around and return, Blotches. I doubt he is worried, but Seth probably questions where I’ve been so long without notice. ~

The bird mused over this problem, as his trusty steed slowly turned around to walk back the way they came. Ceres had been unable to call home because his communication orb was accidentally destroyed during a fight.

The golem had no inventory, so he either had to carry it, or leave it to Blotches to carry. At one point he was fighting a swarm of 7 Hashing birds and two of them attacked the Questing beast. Although it was in no danger, the orb was lost.

Disgruntled, they decided to return, but on the way back, they suddenly heard a wupwup-sound in the air, that cut through the storm.