Chapter 170

Name:Born a Monster Author:Mike_Kochis
Chapter 170: Servant of the Axe, 70 – She Ate My Brain

Servant of the Axe

Chapter 70

She Ate My Brain

There is much debate about how Tormond Roarson died. Some say his wife poisoned him, others his mistress, and some said that a vengeful spirit slipped through the weakened wards and throttled him to death. This last gained credence as his ghost was sighted for the next two nights, until a ceremony of burned sage and virgin white candles could be performed.

His wives and slaves were dressed in mourning white gowns and veils, and were isolated from the rest of the longhouse, lest their wails and sorrow infect normal people. Don’t ask me, I don’t get it. I’m not entirely certain I believe it, but such is what I was told.

After five days on broth, I was able to open my eyes, but I was told later that I was unresponsive to words. I dimly remember people-shaped colors from this time, and language-like noises. The servants entrusted to feeding me rapidly learned to do so from what distance they could manage.

Such was my routine; I ate any small animals that came near, any food or beverage that was left in my vicinity, and may or may not have been considering eating people. Although I don’t remember this, I know myself well enough that it may very well have been possible.

???????????????? ???????????????????????????? ???????????????????????? ???????????????????? ???????? ????????????????????-????????????.????????????

.....

In the meantime, the hunt had reached the far north coast of the island and doubled back. Each day, no less than two warriors went missing. Some were found, returned to their families. Some were found, partially eaten in gullies or by river banks. And some just vanished into the darkness, never to be seen again.

I am told the Jarl became increasingly upset, and eventually had a surgeon open my skull to see the brain damage for himself. I am also told that he puked for half an hour straight, long after there was nothing left in his stomach.

I wouldn’t know; a concoction of aconite and mandrake ensured that I was not conscious for the procedure.

But two weeks or so after that, long after those once in Huscarl Roarson’s care had been transferred to Ingrid Findseth’s, my [Severe Injury: Brain Damage (rapid healing)] was repaired. Physically repaired, at any rate.

My memory... that was problematic. My System told me I was suffering from [Severe Injury: Partial Amnesia] and [Severe Injury: Cognitive Dissonance]. I remembered I was on a quest, and discovered through the System I was actually on quite a few of those.

[System Reset Recommended. Focus here to begin System reset.]

Yeah, I might do that. I didn’t want to, and until I understood why, I wasn’t going to do any of that.

I recognized the faces of Kismet and Madonna, and followed either of them once I saw them. As it was one of the few ways to keep me from seeking food, I was normally with one or both of them.

They made noises at me, so I parroted those noised back at them. It made Kismet sad and Madonna angry.

Much of the rest of the time, I was left alone, to chase after sunlight or moonbeams, or to tap into the animal energies of the pigsty. I was able to bathe and clothe myself, and would perform any chore I was set to until I wandered off in search of food.

There were times I walked upright, and others where I clambered around on four legs (after my hands grew back in, of course). There were times when children teased me, and when the big dog came to swap pictures with me, and when I would join the longhouse dogs in playing in the snow.

Naturally, these days ended abruptly.

#

[Lucid dreaming detected.]

Okay. Whatever that was.

There was a tiny brown scorpion there, making noises at me. So, I made noises back at it.

It sent me a wave of CONFUSION. Okay, I was confused, too. I sent CONFUSION back to it.

It raised a claw, sent me a picture of my hand in its. So, I extended a hand into its claw (we were now the same size, because dream logic), and we both walked along the desert sands, the beach sands, the sandy soil of a jungle, and finally to the jungle grove of Pongo.

[Pongo would like to RESET your System. Focus here to allow.]

[Focus here to reset your own System.]

As Pongo focused his will, the first option tried to blot out the second. Seeing my option fading, I chose another. I reached out, tried to grab the scorpion’s mind, and thrust it at the System reset messages.

[To allow Manajuwejet the Scorpion to reset your System, focus...]

[System reset begun.]

Then,

Pongo chewed on a length of bamboo.

Pongo closed his eyes, covered his ears, and plugged his nose.

We were gone, to a cold dark place, lit by moonlight from... well, nowhere.

He was growing increasingly frustrated.

[Sin Wheel cannot be initialized, traits in conflict.]

There were a LOT of trait options in my System.

#

“Thank you, Manajuwejet.”

“No, FUCK YOU, kid! That was too much, even for me. I’m immortal, and that took up too much of my time.”

“How much time?”

“Three days and three nights. Oh, and happy birthday.”

“But it’s not...”

[Happy Birthday! It is now your second birthday. You have earned a development point. You now have 21 development points.]

“So long, kid, it’s time for you to wake up and for me to look into the Lake of Knowledge and consider my life choices.”

“At least let me whip up some Celestial Heavens mana for your effort.”

He waved a claw at me over his shoulder. “Next time, kid. Next time. This avenging scorpion is tired, and I’m taking some ME time.”

And the sun came up in the dreamtime, because it was also rising in the real world.

MY EYES! Why was sunlight always so BRIGHT when I was just waking up?

I immediately realized I wasn’t in my own bed. It smelled of me... and Kismet... and Madonna. Okay, those two, at least, were alive. Or we were all dead in the Hell of Vanity. There was enough pain for that option.

Hey! All my pain resistance evolutions! Where had those GONE?

[List of evolutions that would increase your pain resistance...]

Just breathe. They were still there. I’d just need to earn my biomass points back and re-evolve them.

I was sitting, and it was easy enough to rise. There was a flaxen shirt, the only garment I’d needed...

How long had it been? I remembered a full moon, and a new moon... had it been a full MONTH?

Okay, the witch who had captured me had a log house of some kind, roughly hewn from raw tree trunks, and then lovingly smoothed inside. The window was shuttered, but had no glass...

I blinked. No, it couldn’t be as easy as opening the window, could it? It could. It was. There were women and children about various errands, and a smattering of men about the perimeter to protect them, but none tried to stop me from climbing down the wall.

And there I was, in the snow. Barefoot in the snow, realizing I hadn’t maintained my layer of blubber. Or rather, the evolution was there, just not the raw fat to weave together under the skin.

In fact, my body was extremely lean, and lanky, and more top-heavy than I remember it. The last time that had happened was a growth spurt... about the time of my last birthday.

I took my first step toward freedom, stubbed my toe on a hidden rock, and pitched face-first into the snow.

Just a hint? Don’t get snow shoved up your nose immediately after losing most of your body fat. Just saying the brain-freeze isn’t the most comfortable.

And children were pelting me with snow as I rose. What had I ever done to them?

“Rhishi! Over here! Get AWAY from those children.”

How could she be such a source of happiness, when she wasn’t even trying to be?

“Kismet! Hi! Are you here to rescue me?” I looked at my hand. My right hand. I realized what having that hand back meant. “Er? Am I here to rescue you?”

She pelted me in the eye with a snowball.

#