Trumpets and fanfare! I would like to present Axiomatic Anarchy-- a bonus inside look into the upcoming novel, Skein of Shadows. Corey crafted this weighty piece, clocking in at over 10K words, as part of his story arc with the furious oltreggan barbarian, Gritgut. However because it is really a story unto itself, we decided that it would make an amazing piece for the website.
As with any tale involving Gritgut, Axiomatic Anarchy is chocked full of high action and adventure. Get ready for cultists, demons, and anchor swinging mayhem! And since this piece ties directly into the upcoming book, it will give you a taste of the complex plot woven through our tale. Enjoy the beginning of Axiomatic Anarchy, and remember to come back for more on September 3rd!
The massive oltreggan gazed upon the subterranean structure. Each tier plunged deep into the stone face, rows of columns supporting the floor above. When Gritgut came to the fourth level, he noticed two hooded figures guarded a massive slab door. They straightened their slouched forms when Gritgut entered their range of vision. A wererat's screeching voice cut into the silence. "Watz yous doin down in these holes, orckin? Mighty far for a 'treggan to fall." The other snickered at the clever insult.
Gritgut's muscles rippled with injured pride at the reference to orcs, a misconception of his oltreggan heritage. Two strides bore him to the rat and he summarily planted the creature's face into the wall. The other was able to take a step back, only to find a chain-wrapped fist snub his nose into a more human form. Too bad the reconstruction sent splinters of bone into the sentry's brain. Gritgut was more than pleased with his cherished boat anchor -- he kept finding all sorts of uses for its various ends.
The oltreggan entered the structure and surveyed the scene before him. A swath of grotesque, foul-smelling rogues bustled in the many aisles of the subterranean coliseum. He smelled a scent of cured sausages somewhere and it reminded him he hadn't eaten in hours. The one-hundred-and-fifty meter oval depression of the coliseum's grimy steel floor stretched out into the distance; the lurking meal could be anywhere. _Where's Izz goin to get my eats?_ he thought.
The faithful voice in his ear reminded him of his task. "Trust your stomach to betray you...the goal here is to spare an innocent--you'll be fed well afterward."
"I dunn wanna spare an 'n-cent, less it'd be savin' a pig frum sumun's gut!" However, the towering brute started down the crude stairway, mumbling curses at the invisible master and his growling insides. _P'haps Shiny not have to eat either...or ee don't knowz me leek I thought._
"Virtue is a feast unto itself, my friend."
A rough jolt broke off Gritgut's reply. A giant maw -- the visage a cross between canine and draconian design -- leered at the muscled oltreggan as the beast gripped Gritguut's shoulder with a horned pincer. Its voice drew the sensation of brimstone and magma to the senses. "Where do you think you're headed?" the beast rumbled into Gritgut's face. Blood from a previous victim dripped from the fangs of the towering guard.
"A glabrezu, Gritgut run!" Shiny's voice screeched into his ear.
The fiend tilted its head at the buzzing whisper, its pelt shifting to a deep russet. The oltreggan didn't link glabrezu to the tales of the abyssal creature's vile reputation, but one look told him its understood a good fight. Before the monster deciphered the telepathic wail, Gritgut's knuckled fist slammed into its lower jaw. The beast's eyes closed and it loosened its pincher momentarily -- all the time Gritguut needed to plow into the crowd. When the monster reset its bruised maw, it scanned for the audacious oltreggan in the mob of aberrations and outcasts.
Gritgut crouched at the base of a fluted pillar and calmed his blood. He would've fought the monster, if only to prove his worth, but his master had commanded him to run. "Me kill 'im next teem, Shiny."
"It'd have been your body the 'rats threw into the sewers. Few face a glabrezu and live to swap the tale for ale, so take pride in having landed a blow on such a fiend."
A guttural roar and subsequent shrieks reinforced the master's statement. Gritgut glimpsed around the column, watching as the glabrezu decapitated two unlucky souls who stood too close. Its mighty pincers sheared through muscle and bone like a hot knife through butter, and the demon thrashed the two bodies splattering gore in all directions. Two robed figures appeared before the frenzied beast; they forced the demon to calm itself and return to stand guard. The glabrezu's violet eyes flared, but it resumed its post.
Some wererats carted off the decapitated forms, while others sponged the blood from the floor and wringed the sanguine fluid into buckets. Before they had completed, a bone-vibrating wail erupted from the arena. Everyone turned to watch a rock panel dislodge from the roof. The smooth oval of the granite platform drifted down lazily from the vaulted ceiling far above the stadium's floor until the levitating tier slid level with the lowest rung of the amphitheater seats. A single humanoid figure wrapped in a toga of fine, thick linen and sashed with a crimson cloak stood on the descending platform. The obsidian being flexed a metallic hand -- an admixture of adamantine and silver -- and its gold irises glared mercilessly at the crowd below.
A chord of languages fluted from the kolyarut's mouth, from oily Infernal to harsh Abyssal and even Common. "I'm Penance Arbiter, officiate of this ring. Who dares to challenge my authority?"
