Pyromaniac (Quest)

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1

(All dialogue in this quest is assumed to be in that of the west, from which Wei Yan originated.)

Two men. It was all that was left of the massacre, the remnant of the lifelong remembrance of the slaughter. The men of his own tribe had betrayed him; backstabbed him with a long, sharp sword that had pierced through his own flesh, muscle, and bone. Yet, it had ultimately failed in bringing a complete end to him. And now, because of their foolishness, because of their choice, because of their failure in eliminating what they never should have tried to eliminate... they would pay. They would pay dearly.

The two figures stood silent and unmoving, like a couple of stone statues as they towered above the wide ledge jutting out of the hillside. The fire they had made to eat only a few minutes ago was gone now, as darkness overwhelmed the mountainous valley. But there would be another fire, a flame that would bring about the end of many, and a blaze that would be a fear-inspiring warning to all who dared to survive. Wei Yan smirked as he turned his head to face his comrade, the latter an archer of tall stature and youthful face.

His left hand moved up to stroke his short beard.

"I hope I won't have to repeat my orders again?"

"The plan shall be carried out exactly as you willed, sir."

"Good. Failure will only bring about your demise."

The deep voice that emanated from Wei Yan's voice, it was such a contrast to the lighter tone of the archer. Obvious fear and fright in the presence of his leader was quite apparent in the younger one's speaking; his voice trembling every now and then with much vibration, striving to simply keep his pitch steady and unrevealing. How pathetic. Wei Yan was almost certain that the archer had only survived the battle by means of burying himself in a ditch or something similar. But for now, even the coward would do.

Wei Yan clamped his right hand on the archer's shoulder as a sign of confirmation, both that he would expect the man to do his job well, and that if he failed, he would die. The archer understood both messages, the latter information more than imposing in his mind, as a short surge of shaking left his form into Wei Yan's arm. Ha.

"It's time for me to be off. I expect no more than a single arrow, Liang."

Before the archer could respond, even with a light nod, Wei Yan was gone, only the dirty scent of his former presence left behind trailing in the air for only a short moment, before even that was blown away by the cold breeze of the air. Shivering in the silence of the night, Liang stared blankly at the spot where his master had been just a moment ago. Then his gaze shifted. Shifted toward the target below.

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2

The darkness of the night went on in silence as Wei Yan crept through the bushes that lined the perimeter of the valley's edge, keeping the village in plain sight. He had skills of stealth difficult to match by most common men, but the guards still had their eyes, ears, and lanterns with them; any sign of spotting would make things much, much more difficult than it already was. Keeping his stance low, Wei Yan nearly crawled through the foliage as he made his way closer to the village.

Now, in the perspective of one who will write this tale from the mainlands of the Han and its lands, the so-called village that was once known as a home for Wei Yan and his former people was more of a primitive cluster of dwellings, a grouping of small, poorly-structured wooden buildings, shaped like large crates rather than formerly erected houses. The compound of storage-like residences was what these people had lived the entirety of their lives in, and by that they would die.

Now, good thing about this compound was that, not being even close to a proper city, it lacked any sort of wall other than the low fence-like structure of stone that formed a loose circumference around the village. The only four gates into the city were protected by the clumsy teenagers of the compound, the fresh recruits of the local army. From what he knew from the past 17 years of his life, Wei Yan easily assumed that those young ones were already falling asleep at their posts, dozing off as the new moon clouded their positions in the darkness.

At last revealing his form from the cluster of bushes, Wei Yan moved on all fours as he swiftly executed a series of stealthy leaps toward the part of the wall ahead of him. It was the side most close to the edges of the valley, close enough to get to without being detected from afar. Immediately grasping the top of the stone wall, the figure quickly pulled himself up. Stopping midway to take a peek over the edge, Wei Yan complimented himself for his good cautiousness. The street patrol were, of course, on daily routines, the slightly more experienced of the batch, yet still clumsy enough to forget the spots where the real crimes and secrets happened.

The group of two passed by the wall, so close that Wei Yan could smell their dirty scent. Not that he himself was in such a clean situation, anyway, he thought as he looked down at his mud-covered legs dangling down on the other side of the wall. Pulling himself up all the way, he flipped his legs over before landing on the inside of the compound, behind a cluster of wooden wheelbarrows chucked into the corner of the street.

So far, so good.

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3

The patrolling guards were completely oblivious to the soft thud that Wei Yan had made when he landed. There was no set curfew for these people, so the guard was really a formality rather than a real watch of sharp senses. Even a clang wouldn't bother these men, just passing it by for some pile of junk falling on each other in the corner. Fools. Wei Yan waited until the guards were out of sight before nimbly leaping over the cluster of wheelbarrows. His target wasn't too far from his current position, but things had to be done quickly.

Moving undetected through the simple maze of low wooden buildings and residences, Wei Yan weaved through the dark labyrinth without a single soul noticing his presence. The majority of the civilians were in their beds by now, ignorant to their fate that would hit them even a few moments later. And anyway, the alleys that he knew so well were familiar to very few. He bypassed one or two small groups of stray teenagers, attempting to hide in the alleys from the small group of villagers that served as parents and elders. Of course, those kids never paid much attention to their surroundings, so Wei Yan meant nothing to them.

He had approached the larger building from the rear. There should have been some guards near the front door, either inside or outside. The rear was more of a factor to be ignored, as people rarely move through that path, or in fact rarely into the building at all, in the case of the commoners. But then, the usual security was there. Wei Yan, oblivious for a moment to what consequences could lay ahead, instinctively grabbed the doorknob and pushed. There was the rattling of wood against wood, and then he noticed. Damn, it was locked shut.

But it was too late. There were footsteps emanating from the inside of the building, as well as voices... more than one, by the sound of it. Multiple hostiles, argh. Sticking his back to the wall beside the door, Wei Yan held his breath as he slowly reached for his right thigh. His fingers wrapped around the familiar wooden handle of his knife, which served both purposes, to use for melee and hurling.

The door opened as a pike-wielder stepped out into the dark alley and stared off into the blank space ahead. Bewildered at the emptiness, he scratched his head and turned around to walk back in when--

"HOLY--"

He never finished his statement as the knife did its job.

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4

How many were in there? Difficult to tell. But if he didn't want to be facing the entire lot of the village troops in a matter of minutes, he would have to act fast. Alarming one's allies wasn't a hard task to accomplish, and there were plenty of ways for the enemy inside the building to call in backup or reinforcements; that was, once they figure out that what they're up against wasn't some local bully or drunken murderer. Very few failed to recognize Wei Yan, a former leader and a present demon.

Pulling the knife out of the victim's throat as the lifeless corpse fell onto its face, the shocked expression never going away, Wei Yan pressed his back to the wall once more. Blood dripped slowly from the crimson blade as he took a quick breath. Reeling around the corner with rapid speed, he raised his arm and threw his weapon at the first sign of movement, before using the momentum of his appearance to disappear again as he stuck to the opposite wall; which still meant he was outside the building.

A yell, and a thud, was all he heard before silence reigned once more. Oh, so the two were all? Hmm, not so heavily guarded as he had expected the place to be. Peeking around the corner, he made sure that his knife had met its target once more before stepping onto the wooden floor. A single-floored storage room, nothing too spacious or crowded. All that filled the room was a series of large jugs, sealed shut to keep the numerous amount of oil in. A corner of the room held a rather wide basin of oil, which had mainly been used in the daytime for the isolated villagers to come fill their lanterns up in exchange for gold.

These jugs would do. Walking up to a pile of them, Wei Yan picked the rather light containers up, three in each hand, as he took them down from on top of each other and laid them out all over the place. Yes, this would do... it would be enough to fulfill his goal. Grinning, Wei Yan stooped down to pick up a couple when he suddenly felt something hard bash into his rear as he toppled forward, head hitting the floor first, before nimbly chaining into a somersault as he pushed himself back up.

There was a clank. Turning around, he was instantly met with a guard, the one he had supposedly killed earlier with a throwing knife. Damn, next time he should also check if the man was breathing or not. How could he have been so careless? A veteran fighter who had failed to see if his assassinated targets were alive or not? Whipping himself from the within, his grin swiftly morphed into a grimace as he eyed the figure. He could still see the large gash in the guard's stomach, where the knife had been only a moment ago.

The spear lunged at him. Flipping backwards, Wei Yan kicked the weapon out of the weaker enemy's hands, but unfortunately wasn't quite fast enough to avoid another rush of the guard's head-on slam, this time continuing to fall and crashing straight into several jugs of oil. Still attempting to rise to his feet, Wei Yan felt a cold hand grab the back of his neck before he was driven, hard, into the nearby basin, face first.

Fuck.

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5

He felt blood spurting out of his nostrils as the guard's poor aim had instead driven the tip of his sharp nose into the edge of the basin, leaving only the area of his face above that to be dunked in deep oil. But just because his mouth and nostrils were safe didn't mean the rest of him was. Of course he couldn't open his eyes down there, not to mention the thick substance coating his face and forehead and entering and leaving his ears. It was disgusting to say the least. Struggling under the guard's hand as even his breath started to leave him from the choke applied onto the rear of his throat, Wei Yan did all he could to move out of the man's grasp.

It was really a lucky shot. His right foot lifted, he pushed it back, literally quite blinded, and thanks to his assumptions, it hit the guard somewhere near his sensitive parts, though Wei Yan would never care to know exactly where. It must have hurt, and bad, as the guard toppled backwards, his grip loosening, and his strength leaving him as he failed to even groan in pain. Crashing straight onto the many jugs of oil, spilling the substance everywhere, he lay unconscious, staring up at the ceiling. That was, before his own spear was driven through his throat.

By now, Wei Yan had managed to open his eyes, but not without some pain, as the oil was difficult to get out of his face without proper cleansing. Damn this uncomfortable feeling. But then, did he really ever find any comfort in the scene of battle? Of course not. Staggering over to the remnant of the oil jugs left over after the dirty brawl, Wei Yan picked up about half a dozen or more and moved over to the front door of the storage house. Kicking the door wide open, he didn't hesitate to pour the entirety of the oil across the street before pausing to wipe the oil out of his eyes.

Another mistake made that night.

He had completely forgotten the fact that there were the night patrol still moving about. And no matter how ignorant they were to matters, they weren't so oblivious to a lone man in the middle of the street, hands, feet, and now his face covered in oil, pouring the substance all over the place. Several shouts of "halt" then, up closer, "oh my God, it's him!" were enough to alarm Wei Yan as he leapt back into the storage house, slamming the door shut behind him.

Things weren't really going as planned, but he would have to finish up what he had started. Speeding towards the door that he had primarily entered through, in other words the rear door, he picked up another half dozen jugs of oil as he ran through the opening, just in time as the armed guards bashed through the front entrance, right on his tail. Thankfully, Wei Yan had no slow feet, and the guards had no projectiles, so he managed to move just ahead of his pursuers, the oil trailing behind him in several lines as he moved through the labyrinth of alleys once more.

Almost there...

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6

The walls were not too far ahead. It would be foolish suicide to try and trap oneself between the pursuing guards and the ones protecting the gates. And anyway, the rest of the alarmed village patrol should be trying to enclose his position by now, and the gates were too far to reach. As soon as he burst out of the maze, Wei Yan relieved himself of the heavier burden as he flung the remnant of the oil to both sides of himself, the sound of crashing followed close by more yells joining in the pursuit as guards appeared from every corner of the village.

He ran onto the wheelbarrow before him, non-stop. The momentum carried him over and onto the stone wall ahead, a boost to success. At least, one step away from success, as something collided with his left shoulder, something hard, sharp, and... extremely painful. A scream left his lips as Wei Yan slipped on top of the wall, a short polearm of sorts stuck straight in his shoulder. Only a few inches to the right and he would have been gone. But he wouldn't die here... not yet. With another scream, he pulled the spear right out of the wound, much to the guards' horror. Blood drenched his arm, the weapon, and the walls as he rose to his feet once more, the gaping wound revealing flesh, muscle, and bone to the entirety.

The moment's hesitation that had found the lot of the guards after the disgusting scene was enough to give Wei Yan time to crawl out of the mess of blood and oil that he was in. But as he made the jump of what would be his joyful accomplishment of mission, he also realized that it would be the jump of pain.

He had made the third and final mistake, the most fatal of them all.

"NOOOOOOO!"

The holler emanated from his throat as he saw the arrow fly. A single bright light soaring through the sky and landing somewhere behind him.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

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7

He was still hanging in midair when it happened. The inferno. The village turned into living hell as it was set aflame, following the path of oil that he had traced. A serpent-like figure from above, as the fire waved through the maze and spread into any branches unintentionally set ablaze. He had failed to burn down the entire village, but the chaos that reigned following the ear-splitting blast was incredible, more than enough to satisfy a pyromaniac's needs. But Wei Yan never enjoyed that satisfaction.

He dropped to the ground, hands clenching his face in a fit of rage and, most of all, pain. Both of his limbs were on fire, as well as, to his horror, his face, covered in a wild blaze. The arrow had been fired too soon; but did he blame Liang? No. The oil that he had danced in, the substance he had used to bring about the others' demise, had inflicted great damage upon himself as well. Catching fire, he writhed in agony as he lay in the grass, the flames eating away at his flesh.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

He rose to his feet, an unconscious action. He had never run so fast in his entire life as he sped toward what he would assume as the direction of the local river, the place that he had so enjoyable played in as a child. Now it was serving a greater purpose than that, as the burning figure dove head first, fearless into the water.

There was silence.

Then he resurfaced, moments later, with a gasp and a following scream. His face was disfigured, dark and mottled, black and red with ashed flesh and fresh blood, the front of his scalp torn away and left bare. It was too horrible a sight to describe, in any manner. His hands had suffered a similar fate, but nothing compared to the suffering inflicted upon his face. The reflection that he saw in the water as the dawning sun rose slowly, it was more than what he could bear.

The inferno continued to live on in its chaos, slowly eating away at the remnant of the village, as the people died, ran, and were burnt down. But now it all meant nothing to Wei Yan, as he continued to kneel there, on the banks of the river, staring down at the monster that he had become.

-Fin-

[Tsuki (Ancient One)]

Reward

Fame 20
Strength 5
Arrogance 10
Feared 10