Mythos: Last Stand

  Chapter 1 — Chance Encounter

  by Caide Fullerton

  ???: "You’ll just have to meet enough people for the both of us, won’tcha?"

  The memory of those words rang in the hooded figure’s mind as they stepped out from their cover, blanketed in the shadow of the looming stronghold. In front of them, a patrol of two poorly-dressed ratmen had just passed, neither of them having thought to check behind the crumbling pillar.

  The hooded figure reared back a javelin in one hand, and a moment later it bore through one of the ratmen’s heads, instantly ending its life and leaving it to crumple onto the ground. It took a few moments for the guard ahead of it to notice, and as they turned around they caught only a brief glimpse of the hooded figure approaching before a dagger was embedded into their neck.

  A second corpse fell to the floor. The figure stamped a leather boot onto the first guard’s body as they retrieved their javelin. They only paused to wipe the viscera from its end with an old cloth before leaving the scene without a second thought.

  ? ? ?

  ???: "What do you mean, he just left!?"

  ???: "Exactly what I said. The bastard abandoned us in the night, and took a good chunk of our supplies with him."

  In the dim light of the sunrise, two young men were engaged in a heated quarrel. Their camp was built in the shade of an L-shaped wall that looked to have once been part of a cathedral, though its windows were bereft of glass and the rest of the building was nowhere to be seen.

  ???: "He… he wouldn’t just leave like that! We need to go find him!"

  So spoke Sam, a tall, lanky boy whose ruffled dark brown hair shone with a reddish hue in the morning sun. He wore a yellow hooded shirt, brown pants, and leather boots, and his golden eyes glared across the makeshift campsite at the other man as he ground his teeth in frustration.

  ???: "Whether you think he would or not, he already did. We oughta leave him to the Krimling."

  Kicking out the remaining smolders of their campfire as he replied was Strade, a shorter man with long, rust-brown hair and stubble. He wore a green cloak over a patchy and tattered red-orange shirt; an old dog tag hung around his neck.

  Sam huffed in frustration at Strade’s reply, balling his fists.

  Sam: "Damn it, you—"

  ???: "Sam, calm down."

  Emerging from their patchwork tent with a bundle of supplies was a tall, muscular woman whose tan skin gleamed in the morning light. Her warm hair was tied back in a bun, bouncing with each step. She wore a green button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled back and long brown pants patched up with several mismatched cloths.

  Helena: "As much as I hate to say it, Strade is right. He left, and there’s nothing we can do about it." She spoke as she began to tear down their tent.

  Sam opened his mouth to retort, but came up short and simply sighed, relenting,

  Sam: "I just… I don’t want to believe that he’d just abandon us like that."

  Strade scoffed. "Well, welcome to reality, bud. I’m personally more upset that he stole our stuff, but we can sit and cry about it a little more, or we can—"

  He cut off as Helena flicked him on the head with a disapproving frown.

  Helena: "That isn’t helping."

  Ignoring the ensuing string of expletives from Strade, she stepped over to place a gentle hand on Sam’s shoulder.

  Helena: "I get how you feel, but we don’t have time to look for him. We need to get moving before that monster gets any closer."

  Sam: "I know. I know, but I…" He tugged at a lock of his hair, clenching a fist around it in frustration. "I know you two are right, I do. But I just can’t bring myself to abandon him. I mean, it doesn’t make sense for him to just leave like that, right? He must’ve had a reason.”

  Strade: “Reason’s pretty clear, if you ask me. He wanted our supplies—and to leave us as monster bait.”

  Sam: “He wouldn’t do that! He must… he must have a good reason. And if we convince him to rejoin us, we can get those supplies back..!”

  Helena sighed as Sam continued to list off excuses he didn’t believe in. “He betrayed us, Sam. Why would he willingly come back?”

  Sam: “We can work it out! We…” His fist tightened, “We’re all Human. We should stick together.”

  Helena regarded him for a moment before sighing. "Fine. The two of us will take a quick detour to look for him. Strade—"

  Strade: "I’m not waiting here for your suicide mission," he said, already hoisting a share of their supplies onto his back.

  Helena: "I was going to say, clear a path ahead for us. We’ll meet up with you by tomorrow morning, at the latest."

  Strade clicked his teeth in response. “Sure you wanna risk your life for that jackass? Sam’s life?”

  Helena: “I risk my life for you all the time.”

  Strade: “...Tch, fine, but if you don’t reach me by morning, I’m not waiting. If you get yourselves killed, that’s your problem.”

  Helena: “We’ll leave clearing the path to you. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”

  Strade: “Look who’s talking.”

  Off he went; the two watched him disappear around a bend in silence. Finally, Sam piped up weakly,

  Sam: “Helena, I… You don’t have to—”

  Helena: “‘Don’t have to?’ You seriously think I’d let you go alone?” She gave him a glare, at which Sam shrank. With a sigh she hefted up a sack of supplies and shoved it against his chest, "Let’s go find him."

  Sam gave her a bewildered look for a moment, then nodded with a smile. Together the two stepped out into the wasteland. The only clue they had to go off of was a short trail of footprints in the mud, but it cut off before long, leaving them with only a general direction.

  They followed a narrow, well-trodden mud path that weaved its way through the valleys that made up the wasteland, a certifiable labyrinth of twisting and converging paths. Rising between the valleys were hills lush with toxic flora, thick grasses and shrubs which gradually shifted between sickly green and blood red in unpleasant gradients as they extended on and on.

  Where the grass went red, twisted, wiry trees rose from the earth, their crimson trunks almost blending in with the shrubbery at their base. The trunks and branches formed oblong shapes stretching towards the paths, as though the wood had begun to melt only to be frozen in place.

  As the duo of Sam and Helena continued their trek, the path took them past a great mound of trash, made up of bits of cloth and rubber and rusted metal, most of it scrap with no identifiable purpose. Similar mounds dotted the wasteland, taking the place of many of its natural hills. A thin layer of the lighter bits of trash had come to cover the rest of the environment—the muddy paths, the toxic shrubbery, and the crumbling ruins.

  They clambered over a great stone pillar that had fallen onto the path. When it stood, it had been part of a greater ruin, something that might have once resembled a fort or a common city building. The ruin was ancient, as was the case for most others that stood in the wasteland, overgrown with multicolored vines and ivies and crumbling at the seams.

  The sun beat down as they walked, the heat drawing ill-smelling fumes from mounds of plastic and rubber. The drone of insects filled the air. Luckily for them, the giant beetles responsible for the noise—each about the size of one’s fist—were the only creatures they encountered as they walked.

  Sam: "...I just don’t understand why he left. Why he would run off now, of all times. Wouldn’t it make more sense to stick together with that... thing, on its way!?" He huffed, ducking under the hanging leaves of a blood-red tree.

  Helena: "...maybe he really did want to use us as bait."

  Sam: "Helena!"

  He turned to glare at her, at which she raised her hands in surrender with a “Sorry, sorry.” She could practically hear Strade’s cynical voice,

  Strade: "Would explain why he left us some of the food, wouldn’t it?"

  She shook her head, pushing away those pessimistic thoughts more for Sam’s sake than her own.

  Sam sighed, turning away to continue down the path. The valley led them down a narrow corridor, a row of old stone pillars lining one side of the road—their tops flat as if cleanly cut, most of them cracked with age as they sank into the mud—and red shrubbery on the other.

  Sam: "It’s fine. We’ll figure out the truth, either way… if we find him."

  Helena frowned, watching his shoulders sink as he spoke. She reached out for his shoulder to comfort him,

  Helena: "Hey, I’m sure—"

  Before she could reach him, Sam suddenly stopped in his tracks, raising a hand to gesture for her to be quiet. He stepped aside to crouch by one of the cracked pillars they were passing, facing forward with alarm, one hand reaching for the bow on his back. Helena followed suit, catching sight of the same scene ahead. She crouched behind him and placed a hand on the hilt of the sword at her hip.

  Lying on the path just ahead of them were the corpses of two ratmen, the mud thoroughly soaked in their fresh blood.

  ? ? ?

  Jackie felt describing the creatures occupying the stronghold as just “ratmen” was a tad demeaning, even if it was accurate. They were, in truth, a race known as the Kritta. A race short in stature—only half as tall as Humans—with wiry frames and grey skin, they had rat-like snouts, large, floppy ears, and downturned whiskers. Their most striking characteristic was their long tail, which sported several jagged purple barbs.

  Jackie counted six Kritta guards within the stronghold, though there were likely at least a couple more within the buildings. They were crouched within the archway which served as the main entrance to said stronghold, on the south wall; a pillar, seemingly part of some other ruin, had fallen through the left side of the arch, providing ample cover.

  The stronghold resembled a dzong—a mountain temple, with towering, sloped outer walls built of smooth white stone, each corner featuring a tall watchtower with red flared roofs, all surrounding a small selection of buildings. Each of the buildings hugged the edges of the outer walls, leaving the center a wide, open courtyard; scattered across the ground were rectangular stone foundations where additional buildings should’ve been.

  To the left, several makeshift scaffolds formed platforms leading up onto the western wall; three Kritta wielding slings stood guard there, watching over their territory from above. Another guard, wielding a mace, stood atop the east wall, looking out at the wasteland beyond; a crumbled portion of the wall formed a slope leading down from it to the courtyard. The fifth guard was wandering aimlessly around the center of the stronghold, a sword in one hand and a half-eaten beetle in the other.

  Of particular note to Jackie were the buildings along the back wall. The leftmost appeared to be a large storehouse. Their eyes moved to its right, to a building almost completely caved-in; to its right was a building whose entrance had been covered by a large sheet of metal. A second swordsman—guard number six—sat on the ground, leaning back on the wall of the storehouse as it took a leisurely nap.

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  Jackie, whose tattered black hood hid both their identity and the five weapons they carried, waited for an opportune moment.

  When all were in position, they drew one of two daggers from their belt and tapped it several times against their pillar cover. The swordsman wandering the center of the stronghold took notice and tossed its lunch aside, moving to check out the source of the noise.

  Exactly as planned.

  The moment the unfortunate Kritta stepped forward to peek around the pillar, Jackie seized it by the neck, yanking it behind cover and deftly sinking a dagger into its throat.

  Kritta: "—kraagh!?"

  A disastrous mistake. Their strike hadn’t been precise enough, and the dying Kritta let out a brief shriek, loud enough to alert the other guards.

  Jackie: "...shit."

  Stealth was out of the picture now.

  Deciding to make the most of the element of surprise while they still had it, Jackie vaulted over the pillar, retrieving a javelin from their back. They flung it at one of the slingers to the left, nailing it in the head.

  Four left.

  As Jackie touched the ground, they immediately charged straight forward, bolting for the sleeping swordsman across the courtyard. At the same time, the mace-wielding Kritta atop the eastern wall turned to attention and began to scramble down the rubble slope. The two slingers shouted at their sleeping comrade in a language Jackie couldn’t understand as they prepared their weapons.

  Jackie drew a sword from their belt.

  As they approached, the sleeping swordsman opened its eyes. Alarmed, it reached for its weapon, but it was too late. Jackie’s blade pierced its skull, splattering blood on the wall behind it.

  Three left.

  The mace-wielding warrior was not far behind. Knowing this, Jackie swung around, holding out their other arm; a shield composed of a square sheet of corrugated metal was strapped to it. They braced against the storehouse wall with their back foot as the warrior charged forward, its mace raised.

  At the last second, the warrior pivoted, lowering its weapon and flinging its whole body at Jackie’s shield in a shoulder tackle. A loud crack sounded as the wall collapsed under their combined weight, sending both combatants tumbling through it.

  * ? *

  Following the sound of the sudden shriek, Sam and Helena arrived at a crumbling archway, the entrance to a small stronghold. Using a fallen pillar as cover, they peered at the commotion ahead just in time to witness a Human figure being thrown through a wall.

  Sam: "That must be him! What the hell is he doing!?" Sam exclaimed in a hushed tone.

  Helena: "We’ll ask him later. For now…" She stepped aside to a small pile of trash flanking the stronghold’s wall and tore a metal pipe free from the mass. "Let’s go save him."

  Much to Sam’s dismay, Helena charged into the stronghold without another word.

  Helena: "Hey! Look over here!"

  The two slingers, who until now had been watching the storeroom, turned just in time to see Helena fling her newfound weapon at them.

  The pipe soared through the air, spinning gracefully… and fell completely short of the Kritta. Instead, it crashed into the beams holding up the scaffold platform. The flimsy construct toppled over, dumping both slingers in the dirt in front of Helena with a clattering of falling wood and metal.

  They were quick to scramble to their feet, swinging their slings, ready to fight back against the tall Human before them—that is, until an arrow embedded itself in the side of one of their heads.

  The remaining slinger shrieked, swiftly abandoning any pretense of fighting back and instead making for the building with the sheet metal door. It pounded its small fists against the door, chattering panickedly.

  Helena: "Sorry, little guy."

  The slinger leapt to the side just in time to dodge an incoming strike; rather than reach for her sword, Helena swung forward a kick, leaving a dent in the metal where the Kritta had just been. It growled, its tail extending in length before it whirled around, whipping the barbed tail at Helena.

  As it attacked, it was intercepted by a miraculous shot. An arrow hit its tail precisely, knocking it off-course and giving Helena an opening to jump back out of range.

  The slinger hissed, preparing to whip its tail again, when—

  Ga-thunk.

  The door behind it began to open.

  * ? *

  Jackie rolled backwards up to their feet, swiftly recovering from their impact with the wall. The Kritta warrior appeared equally unfazed, already lunging at them with another attack. It leapt into the air and swung its mace downward.

  Jackie blocked the strike with their shield, deliberately dropping their sword as they then shoved the warrior back with a shield bash. The warrior stumbled back, and before it could recover a dagger flew into its shoulder, eliciting a high-pitched shriek.

  The warrior lowered its mace, instead extending its tail. It lashed out at Jackie, who once again hid behind their shield. One of the jagged barbs on the warrior’s tail caught on the edge of the shield, and Jackie seized the opportunity to grab the tail in their free hand.

  They yanked the warrior towards them, swinging a leg up to deliver a kick to its chest. Instead of releasing its tail, they held fast to it with both hands, using their full strength to swing the dazed warrior in a half-circle before flinging it away into a metal shelf stocked with wooden crates.

  Catching their breath, Jackie quickly retrieved their sword, taking the opportunity to look around the room. The storehouse sported rows and rows of old metal shelves in varying conditions, filled with old crates, scraps of metal and trash, and various supplies.

  Without wasting another moment, they stepped towards the fallen shelf where the Kritta warrior laid. As they prepared to finish it off, their mind was clouded by a growing whirring sound, perhaps a symptom of their earlier impact.

  Except the sound continued to grow louder.

  Jackie spun around, swinging their sword to meet the approaching figure. Closing in on them from behind was another Kritta warrior, this one a bit larger and better-armored than the others—the chieftain. Rapidly spinning with a longsword outstretched, it was like a deadly bladed top.

  Thanks to the chieftain’s momentum, the clash of swords pushed Jackie back despite their advantage in size and physical strength. The moment the chieftain’s momentum was lost, however, they began to overpower it, shoving it away and delivering a kick to its torso to knock it back.

  The chief threw its arms up as it staggered, taking its sword with it, and allowed the weapon’s weight to force it to turn around as it fell. It carried the falling blade’s momentum into an upward swing as it spun around again. Jackie held out their shield, but the chieftain’s attack carried surprising power, now sending them stumbling back.

  To make matters worse, at that same moment the wounded warrior leapt out from behind Jackie, its mace raised high in the air. Its movements were sloppy from its wounds, however; catching it in the corner of their eye, Jackie reached back to grab its arm as it lunged. They flipped its small body over their shoulder, sending it rolling at the chief.

  In that brief opening, the chief had begun swinging its sword in a wide arc once again, building momentum as it rotated again and again and again. It continued to spin even as its subordinate was flung at it, cleaving the unfortunate warrior in twain.

  It spun and spun and spun and spun and spun.

  Tilting its body ever so slightly, it sent itself teetering forward, swinging its sword in wide circles, a whir of rotating death as it spun towards Jackie. They rolled to the side as it blitzed by, the blade biting into their right flank. As it spun deeper into the storehouse it crashed through the metal shelves, smashing them apart as it turned in a wide arc to teeter back towards Jackie.

  * ? *

  Sam: "Helena! It’s going after him!"

  Helena: "Ignore it for now! We need to deal with these two first!"

  Sam and Helena stood together within the Kritta stronghold, Sam with his bow drawn and Helena with a shattered sword in hand—what was once a broadsword had shattered halfway down the blade; in its current state, it was more like a particularly heavy and jagged dagger.

  In front of them, the remaining slinger had been joined by a Kritta warrior wielding a sword and a small buckler shield, who had emerged from the building alongside the chieftain. Said chieftain had run after the other Human before Sam or Helena could stop it, leaving its two subordinates to face them.

  The slinger cowered behind its ally as it prepared its weapon; Sam fired at it, but the swordsman intercepted the arrow with its shield.

  Helena charged forward, crouching down and performing a rising swing with her broken sword. The swordsman caught this attack with its shield as well, throwing it backwards; the impact caused yet another chip to flake off Helena’s weapon.

  Sidestepping its flailing bodyguard, the slinger scurried forward past Helena. She turned to intercept it, but the swordsman leapt at her with a counterattack, drawing her attention. She grabbed the small warrior in her off-hand and flung it down into the dirt, easily felling it with a swing of her sword before turning back to her brother,

  Helena: "Sam!?"

  The slinger had charged straight for Sam, leaping into the air as it prepared to swing its sling down like a flail; Sam was already prepared to deal with the attacker, an arrow nocked and drawn. He fired, hitting the slinger in its leg and throwing off its attack, leaving it to slam down into the dirt instead.

  Sam: "Go help him! I’ll be right behind you!"

  He drew an arrow from his quiver as he dashed at the slinger, which was stumbling to its feet. As Helena turned to run for the storeroom, she barely caught a glimpse of Sam about to plunge the arrow into the poor Kritta’s eye.

  * ? *

  The chieftain, completing a wide arc around the room, rapidly approached Jackie again, its longsword drawing deadly arcs through the air.

  As it approached, Jackie reached to retrieve the second of two javelins from their back. They jammed it down into the ground in front of them before jumping back slightly.

  The chieftain’s sword struck the javelin first, halting it for the briefest of moments. Pressure built, the metal shaft bent, and the javelin was pried free. The chieftain’s blade maelstrom resumed, halted for less than a second.

  That brief opening was all Jackie needed.

  They stepped forward, sword in hand, aiming a thrust at the chieftain’s torso. A certain, killing blow.

  They did not, however, account for an interruption.

  The mace-wielding warrior was the culprit—they’d thought it was sliced in half, but it’d barely survived with a deep gash through its side. It was mere moments from death’s door, but that gave it more than enough time to carry out a final vengeance on Jackie. It stumbled towards them from behind with its mace raised.

  Already in the motion of striking the chieftain, Jackie had no time to prepare a countermeasure.

  The mace would crack their skull. From there, they would die.

  They wouldn’t be able to fulfill their promise to Al.

  They would die alone, without ever managing to meet another person.

  They would—

  Helena: "I’ve got you—!"

  Words not spoken, but clearly heard; they rang out sharply in Jackie’s mind.

  Jackie’s sword pierced the chieftain’s shoulder. Behind them, they heard a loud crack accompanied by a brief Kritta shriek.

  The chieftain stumbled backwards into a fallen metal shelf, blood oozing from its shoulder. Jackie was unscathed—aside from the wound they’d sustained earlier, anyways.

  A brief moment passed in relative silence.

  Helena: "Hey, are you oka—"

  A crash rang out in front of the two, drawing their attention as the chieftain rose to its feet, one arm drenched in blood as it brandished its longsword. The blade bore a large new chip, its edge bent after impacting Jackie’s javelin, but it was still more than capable of killing.

  It spun the blade in a circular arc. Then it spun again. Again, again, and again. Spinning, spinning, it spun and spun and spun. Gaining speed, gaining momentum, gaining power. It tilted forward slightly, approaching the two Humans as it spun and spun and spun and spun. Speed, momentum, and power rose as it spun with greater and greater force, mustering the greatest, the fastest, the most powerful spin the chieftain had ever performed in its life. It spun and spun and spun, gaining more and more power until—

  An arrow planted itself in the chieftain’s forehead, and it promptly collapsed in place, its sword clattering uselessly across the floor until it struck the foot of a shelf.

  Sam, standing in the doorway, lowered his bow.

  With the final Kritta dispatched, Sam and Helena turned to Jackie,

  Helena: "…so, what’re you—"

  Hearing her voice, Jackie suddenly sprung into action, whirling around to face her and holding out their sword defensively—an instinctual reaction as they snapped back to reality. Helena stepped back, raising her arms as a sign of peace, and Jackie’s fierce expression softened.

  Helena: "Wait…"

  Sam: "You’re not…"

  The siblings spoke in unison. As they’d spun around in a panic, Jackie’s torn hood had fallen around their shoulders, revealing an androgynous face, dark hair which appeared to be a reddish-purple shade in the light, and bright red eyes.

  That is to say, this was a person who looked absolutely nothing like the particular Human they were searching for.

  Sam & Helena: "Who the hell are you..!?"

  Meanwhile, oblivious to the siblings’ internal misunderstanding, a sparkle formed in Jackie’s eyes. Their expression became one of excitement and awe, and in seconds the efficient killer had been all but replaced by a starstruck admirer.

  Jackie: "You two, you’re… Humans? Like me?"

  Sam: "Er, yes?"

  Jackie: "Really!?"

  Ignoring the wound on their side, they ran up to Sam, dropping their weapon to clasp his hands as they stared with sparkles in their eyes. Flustered by the sudden lack of personal space, he merely manages to squeak out,

  Sam: "U-um, I’m pretty sure?"

  Noticing his discomfort, Jackie stepped back, raising their hands apologetically.

  Jackie: "Sorry, sorry, I just… I haven’t seen another Human since I… since…"

  And, as a natural consequence of disregarding their bleeding wound, they lost their balance and toppled to the floor.

  Mythos, but it's here! It's real! If you're reading this on launch day, there should be five chapters for you to sink your teeth into; if you caught this right as it went up, Chapter 2 should be available if you just reload the page.

  Chapter Glossary:

  | Jackie - Our favorite androgynous protagonist! They're very excited to meet you.

  | Sam - A kind doctor and archer, and Helena's brother.

  | Helena - The tough, responsible one, and Sam's sister.

  | Strade - (Pronounced stray-d) The aloof, irreverent one. He's scouting ahead.

  Human - You know what a Human is, don't you?

  | Kritta - (Pronounced cree-tah) Short, rat-like humanoids. They're intelligent, but not as much as Humans. Poisonous barbs grow out of their long tails.

  | Krimling - A species of monster terrible enough to get used as a pejorative. Hope you never see one.