The Village of the Blood Hills
by EEL Dec 2015 (this is the first ever fan fiction of Dyscrasia Fiction)
A.N. This story takes place after Spawn of Dyscrasia, in the flesh world that Helen and Lysis explore.
As Helen surveyed the
land, the inverse nature only appeared more grotesque. She swung her feet from
where she sat on the wooden porch, partly built into the thick, wine colored
blood flowing downstream. It terrified her to know what she really rested upon
were the recycled corpses of the dryads, but, as they had told her earlier upon
arriving to the tiny, secluded village, the flesh land had given them very
little to build with. Therefore, when each nymph passed from age or battle, the
bodies were reused for the sake of the community. The longer she remained in
this demented land, she thought, the less it seemed to frighten her, despite
her instincts screaming at her otherwise. As the time passed, searching for
Master Echo, she had begun to assimilate culturally.
Helen peered at the
opposite bank, twisting a lock of stark-white hair around one finger. The flesh
rose and fell in deep valleys, where the bottoms would gather blood as it
trickled down the hills from disturbances in the thick layer of skin. Every
once in a while, she could see the red sunlight glint off the fingernail formed
cliffs in the distance, overlooking the lake where blood and tears met and
turned the liquids rosy pink. There was an eye, too, buried into the side of a
hill, bloodshot and the surrounding flesh purple and blue. Above it, a dryad’s
tree struggled with the land to survive, roots digging into the eye socket, as
the mossy green iris nearly disappeared while the pupil dilated.
Yes, this world was
strange.
Helen gripped her staff.
The wooden beads clanked as she stood up. Behind her, she could hear the dry,
scratchy footsteps of a dryad, startling her from her daydreams.
The dryad held up its
hands in surrender, the long, gnarled, spindly fingers spread. Over her wooded
body of twisted branches, strings of Spanish moss formed a thin covering,
spotted with blue baby’s breath flowers. Huge, phosphorescent moss eyes glowed bright
green. Around her neck were several polished and carved ivory necklaces.
The nymph, Druantia,
noticed Helen’s interest in the necklaces and the carvings. “Do you like them?
There is a clan to the north who dig deep into the flesh in search of bone to
carve and sell to other villages. It’s messy work, and costly, as the land never
heals and turns into the murky swamplands of pus and blood and roughly covered
skin, but it pays them well.”
“The carvings are very
pretty.” Helen scrutinized the small pictures on the bone. “What’s that?”
“Oh, the creature?”
Druantia peered at the serpentine, yet plant like monster depicted in mid-roar,
the body of several Chromanti dangling from its mouth, others attempting to
bring the creature down, only to be knocked back by the wide leaves. “It is the
Venus, who live in the lake down river. It eats the flesh creatures foolish
enough to get too close. If you watch long enough, you might be able to see it.”
Helen pulled her cat
pelt over her shoulders. She pointed in the opposing direction of the lake.
“What about that, over there?”
“The great mountain
range is composed mostly of teeth of all sizes and shapes. Sometimes, you can
find a gap in-between the larger teeth and live there. There is a village that
trades with us jewelry and housewares, even just teeth with carved symbols.
Here.” Druantia untied a leather pouch from her belt. Inside, Helen could see
hundreds of teeth ranging from human size to that of a mouse. Each one was
carved with intricate markings. Druantia took one from the bag. “This means
spirit. It is a common symbol nowadays, to protect us as the Chromanti continue
to wage war with the others in this world. Here, you can have it. To protect
you on your travels.”
Helen took the tooth. It
appeared similar to the shape of a cat’s fang. Around the base and tip was a
tiny, yet simple border, enclosing the elaborate and graceful swirls. She took
the fang and began to work another braid into her hair, to put the fang in.
“Thank you, Druantia.”
“Anything. You kept the
Queen of the Chromanti away from the village with your magic, you and your
companion upon the giant ant. Do you know when Lord Lysis returns from scouting
the villages downstream?”
Helen shook her head.
“No. He wishes to follow the trail further, see if Lord Echo is following the
queen and her army. I don’t mind the wait, though. It gives me the chance to
practice my magic, and add a few layers of protection around the village.” She
closed her eyes, searching deep inside herself. Helen opened her scarred eye,
surveying the land. She could see the wild, white fire forming a ring around
the village, and the ghosts of the feline guardians enforcing her will. They
patrolled the border, snarling at the quivering eye, digging their claws deep
into the iris and tearing it apart. It would not surprise Helen if her spells
would destroy the abomination.
Her own cat spirit lay
content by her side, purring and rubbing its tufted ears with one large paw. It
was almost comical, such a creature capable of injury and of noble features
acting like a common house cat. Helen smiled to herself.
Then a small wisp of
green caught her eye. She looked at her hair, where the fang now resided,
tangled in her long locks. Apparently, it did contain magic of some sort, the
shamrock colored energy wrapping around her like vines, keeping the darker forces
at bay.
Helen opened both eyes
again, peering at the normal world. Instinctively, she turned to the grand
lake. Overhead, a flesh reaper, its wings of stretched skin flapping
sporadically, flew over the great expanse of tears. It released a skin-rendering
screech.
From under the lake, a
deep rumble shook the landscape. Druantia smiled. “Just wait.” She said.
The surface of the lake
began to ripple. The flesh reaper sensed to danger it was in, and began to fly frantically
towards the cliffs. However, from the lake sprang a gigantic plant springing
from the depths, shaking blood and tears over the landscape. Its flat, green
mouth, the inside pinky red from its recent kills, swooped up and snatched the
flesh reaper from the sky. Behind her, Helen could hear the villagers stop to
watch the spectacle.
The Venus, once done
with its meal, wasted no time folding up and resting on the bottom of the lake.
The lake’s surface rippled; then began to settle.
Yes, the land was
strange, Helen thought to herself. But she had begun to grow used to the
strangeness of it all.
