Castle Shyr

Dun dun dun...

More scary Ju\'agul stuff.


-King Valagor-

The curtains were drawn tightly closed, the windows were latched and locked numerous times behind them. His door was guarded by four men, two inside his chamber, staring at the walls blankly, and two outside his chamber, doing the same. He was the most protected Tev in the swamps, or so Shakir tried to assure him. He didn’t feel safe. He wore a thin, light blue robe, but it could hardly be seen under the thick blanket, dark maroon and forest green in color. He sat crumpled against the headrest, frail knees pulled up to a concave chest, hands shaking as they struggled to keep the blankets well over his lips and nose. His ears twitched at every sound, the real ones and the ones he imagined.

It was cold. Why was it so damned cold? Valagor couldn’t remember his chambers being so cold ever before - had a wall come down somewhere and he’d not been alerted? He scanned the room as best he could with his good eye, the other trailing behind as it attempted to keep up. He relied more on his ears now-a-days anyway: What good would perfect eyes do you in the dark? He felt his heart begin to race as he realized with a good amount of certainty that the room always became cold whenever he was near. With this epiphany his breathing became short and shallow and his eyes stopped scanning and began darting from corner to corner - the darkest corners, the most shadowy crevice.

There he was.

It seemed to Valagor that he looked both exactly the same each time he appeared, and yet completely and drastically different. His hair was always bright, fiery orange, cast sometimes into thin, tiny braids, and sometimes set loose to dangle near his elbows. His eyes were always cold, confused and calculating, and he always regarded those around with a haughty sense of indifferent desperation. His clothes changed, sometimes as if they were following a chronological decline in his well-being, others with no pattern at all. There were times when he seemed saddened, lost and needy like a child and other times when he seemed frightened and timid. More often than not, however, he was angry: malevolent and seething. He would tear at curtains, attempt to knock things off shelves and desks, sometimes successfully, sometimes not - which proved only to further his state of turmoil.

“G-g-g-g-” Valagor stuttered suddenly as he turned to look at the King. His cold eyes crawled up the blankets as if he himself were mimicking the actions, slithering like a beast on his hands and knees until he hovered over the Tev in wait for the kill. His whole body slowly turned to face the panic-stricken King, revealing a strange, almost commonplace, tunic and pants. He cocked his head to one side in a way which was nothing short of disturbed and took a step towards the current Tev King.

“Guards!” Valagor croaked once he’d found his voice, tossing off his blankets and scrambling for the statue-still men at the door. The two soldiers started and rushed immediately to their lord’s side, catching him by the shoulders as he flung himself at them. One man stepped in front, unsheathing his sword and brandishing it around the room curiously.

“My liege, what did you see?” Asked the soldier in the back as he attempted to calm the panting King.

“Can’t you see him too!?” Bellowed Valagor, pointing horrified into the far corner. “He means to kill me! Arrest him! Toss him in the dungeon! Lock him away for all eternity!” He continued, his cries causing the two guards posted outside to peer into the room, raising their eyebrows and swinging their ears forward.

“Is everything ok in here?” One asked in a strangely calm manner - of the four he was the only one to have prior experience in babysitting the King, and was used to his outbursts by now. The King dashed immediately to his side, grabbing his arm and again pointing into the corner.

“You see him! You saw him last time! I want him executed!” The King continued in a bellow, pulling the guard inside to hide behind him. “Zarvwick, arrest him!” The King commanded again as the guard hesitated.

The other three guards looked curiously at Zarvwick. Could he see this man? Had he really arrested him before? They blanched slightly as a strange expression crossed Zarvwick’s face, and he assured the King it was ok before stepping forward.

“By order of King Valagor, you are under arrest.” He said in a perfectly calm manner, as if the whole ordeal was commonplace. He took another step forward, further flabbergasting the men behind him, and reached for his cuffs.

“My liege!” The party inside the royal chambers all turned to look as a strangled and exhausted echo reached them from the hallway. “My liege!” The cry came again as one of the castle groundskeepers came flying into the chamber, pausing just inside the door and bowing so deeply he fell to his knees and hit the floor with his palms, gasping for breath so hard he left spatters of spit on the floor.

Valagor’s eyes darted immediately back to the dark corner, and he cursed to himself when he noticed the man gone. He was relieved that the intrusion had scared him off, but had hoped that they would have gotten him again - for sure so he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. He growled and turned in a huff to the groundskeeper.

“What?!” He demanded.

“Th-the Ju’agul have escaped, milord! They are destroying the few crops we have and terrorizing those in the courtyards and lower levels!” There was a collective gasp from the guards in the room - but unnerving silence from the King. He had turned into a completely different man in only a few seconds - where he had just been screaming and running from the nightmares he couldn’t escape, he was now serious, blank-faced and ready to go to war if needed.

“My King?” Zarvwick prodded slightly, moving to Valagor’s side and taking to one knee.

“Get me my sword. I will address them in my robes.” The King growled, ignoring the gasped ‘thank you’s pouring from the groundskeeper’s lips.

“Of course, my liege, but are you sure that is a good idea?” Zarvwick pressed lightly, snapping his fingers and motioning for two of the other guards to do as the King asked. “The Ju’agul may be under our control, but, as they have shown time and time again, they are tricky, foul beasts. Should something go wron-”

“Captain Zarvwick,” The King cooed, turning to glare at the man, “are you doubting my ability to tame my own beasts? For that.. Would be a mistake.” He said, not even turning to look as his sword was presented to him. He narrowed his eyes in on Zarvwick’s slightly wavering gaze and took his sword without so much as a backwards glance.

“No, my King.” Zarvwick conceded after a moment, bowing deeply.

“Good.” Valagor groaned, turning his sword in his hand for a moment before lowering his gaze towards the groundskeeper. “Take us there.” He said shortly, now the embodiment of intimidation.

Though by this point Zarvwick knew that most of the Castle probably knew about the little romp the Ju’agul were having, word tended to travel quickly, especially when blood, death and gore were involved, but he was still impressed by the way people stared at the group as they walked down the hallway. They must have looked like messengers of death, flocking down the hallway with such grim expressions on their faces, the King in his bed robes with a sword in hand. The way people pushed themselves against the wall to permit the caravan passage made Zarvwick shudder in an entirely pleasant way.

They took quickly to the only staircase to travel the entire length of the castle, from top to bottom, it was the quickest way to reach the lower levels. They had barely descended to levels when the screams reached their ears.

“Sounds like the Ju’agul are really going at it this time,” muttered one of the guards at Zarvwick’s right, “I hope the King knows what he’s doing.”

“Don’t doubt him.” Zarvwick said immediately, feeling a bit of heat rush to his face from his own previous doubt, “The King has lived with the Ju’agul since he was very young. It’s even rumored he spent a whole year with them as a child. He knows how to control them better than the best of us. He probably didn’t even really need to bring his sword.” Zarvwick turned his gaze to look at the guard who had spoken, and smiled slightly at his bewildered face. “You’ll see, just watch.”

Just as the words left Zarvwick’s mouth the caravan stopped with a slight urking noise from the groundskeeper. Zarvwick turned his head just in time to see a ribbon of blood and gore come flying through the air in a rather miraculous arc. It splattered against the doorway and along the wall, just barely missing the head of the King.

Valagor stiffened, tightening his hand on the hilt of his sword, and stepped forward, pushing roughly past the immobilized groundskeeper.

The lower levels were in chaos. The Ju’agul knew this was their one chance at freedom for a long time, and they were not taking it for granted. At least a hundred and fifty men lay slain over the floor, caking it with blood and other unmentionable things. The walls were murky and dripping, from the chandeliers and windows hung remnants of soldiers who had tried and failed. Amidst all the chaos, the screaming and dying agony of those left in tatters on the floor, were the beasts. The female lay in the center, front arms crossed over each other as if she were at some high society dinner. Her tail clacked behind her, and her head was raised high, along with her ears - she had known the King was coming. Her male cohorts were not so easily settled, however, they continued to tear through the halls, running at speeds enough to let them up onto the walls, running completely adjacent to the floor as if it were nothing. They seemed to be playing tag with some unfortunate soul’s innards - all but one. A small, tattered male with plenty of scars sat in the far corner, hunched against the wall with his ears straight and his tail looped around his front legs. He was staring at the female - he was waiting for an opportunity of some kind.

The King was jolted from his assessment of the group as a gasp and a hot puff of breath on his neck made him turn slowly. He was soon face-to-face with one of the youngest males. His breath was rancid, and the King rolled his eyes as he heard the groundskeeper behind him vomit. The Ju’agul seemed not to care who he was dealing with, and he took another step forward, bringing his muzzle ever closer to Valagor’s. He swept his large ears forward, his lips curling and shuddering as he let out a deep, rumbling grow.

“Hrak! Rrrrhhhhurrr..” The beast’s head swerved suddenly towards the center of the room and his ears pinned flat against his head in the same instant. The female had beckoned him away. His tail slid between his legs and he dropped his head so that he had to look up at a painful angle to walk to her side. He stood for a moment angled in front of her, and for a moment the hall was silent, save a strange noise.

Click. Click. Click. Clack. Click. Click. Click. Clack.

“What is that?” One of the guards mused in a soft breath, looking at Zarvwick. The older Tev shook his head and narrowed his eyes.

“The Queen’s tail.” He answered morbidly.

There was another moment or two of silence before the hall erupted into noise again. It happened in a flash. The female lunged forward to deliver a warning nip to the male; his cries startled two of his companions, who in turn arched up and tore for the center of the room, barking and squalling; the female leapt to her feet and bellowed into the air; the scared male in the corner ran forward and slammed himself bodily into the male who had first offended the female; the queen let out another cry, and everyone was still. She made a slow, almost purring sound, and the males immediately rolled to their sides, exposing their bellies and throats to their leader. She snorted and stepped gingerly over them to approach the King.

Valagor passed his sword haphazardly to the Tev behind him and took a step forward, narrowing his eyes as the female Ju’agul neared him. She stopped about five feet away and sat, high on her haunches, to look down at him.

“Welcome, Valagor,” she seemed to bark, her nearly coherent words startling the other Tev so badly they fumbled over each other to lean against the wall.

“How dare you speak to me so casually.”

“Ruh, ruh ruh.” The bitch laughed, swinging her ears back and tilting her head forward with the most frightening smile Zarvwick had ever seen. “Drrrhunnt shhround tttssssoooo rrrhisstttpleeezzzed.”

“Oh? How would you prefer me sound? You’ve been slaughtering my people.”

Zarvwick stumbled backwards yet again, smacking into the wall silently as he watched the King converse with the female Ju’agul. Converse with her as if he could understand her grunts and growls, as if it was perfectly normal to hold conversations with beasts.

“Aaahhwwlll eennk guuurd fffuun.” The Queen grumbled, licking her lips as she regarded the men behind the King. “Juuuu chhhame widdd errnnn aaahhrrmee?”

“When my groundskeeper informs me that the Ju’agul have escaped and are massacring the lower levels, what do you expect? Me to come alone?”

“Juuu aaahhhhhrrrr awwwllll chuuuu nhhhheeeeeeed.”

“I should have you put to death.”

“Ruh, ruh, ruh.”

“You don’t think I will?”

“Chhuuuu lrrrraaakkkkk teeehhh ggggrrrrullll.” She chortled, standing and turning her back to the Tev. She barked a few times in a short way, and the males skittered to their feet, tearing off towards the courtyard with dog like yelps. The female paused and swerved her head back around to zero her gaze in on the King one last time.

“Lllhhhhaaaattturrrrr, Kingg ovv Tkevv… llhhaatuuur.”