Pieces on the Board

“Please. Please end this. Please end the suffering.” The Survivor said. The voice let out a sigh though he wasn’t sure if it was disappointment or relief.

“There is… a catch.” The voice replied. The sinister warmth was now gone from its tone, replaced by something more palpably upsetting. If The Survivor had to put a name on it, it was frustration. “I’m not ready to influence things yet. The great game is still in its opening moves and I, along with the rest of my kind, need pieces on the board.”

“Pieces?” The Survivor asked. It was all melting together now. The lights, the voice, his own essence even. It was as though he was being yanked back somewhere else. Somewhere darker and colder. He tried to ask for help. He tried screaming it out even, but nothing escaped his mouth.

“In due time, I will require assistance in bringing about this dream of a world with no suffering. There is another individual like you. Someone who has stumbled into a gift which they should not have. The fine points of such an affair are beyond me but I am not going to pass up an opportunity that presents itself so readily.” The voice stated candidly. The Struggler knew not what gift he was talking about though he felt a renewed trepidation at the clinical nature of the other occupant in the room. A great stirring rose in a corner as something bipedal but altogether inhuman shambled into view.

“What is that?” The Survivor asked, not entirely sure if he was referring to the smooth, oblong stone in the creature’s hand or the actual creature itself.

The Survivor snapped into action, instinctively cheating his hoodie up only to reach for a pistol that did not exist. He tried to shout as he created distance between himself and the… creature. Was this what had been speaking to him? It couldn’t be. It didn’t even have a mouth. Its skin glowed with a sickening radiance as what little light that was in the room reflected off the sinewy, scarred membrane that comprised its “Skin”. Akin more to sheets of fleshy muscle fascia depicted on an anatomical sketch than actual skin, it seemed stretched too tight around the creatures’ frame. Strange protrusions jutted out of weeping wounds that ran in a line up its back, forcing it to maintain a hunched posture so that they would not touch one another. As he followed each gnarled pylon of bone until he reached the creatures head, The Survivor realized that it’s face wasn’t just mouth-less, but featureless in its entirety. Even though he felt like it could see him, all that sat atop its oblong neck was a bony shell akin to a mannequin’s head. He fought down the urge to vomit at the repulsive sight. It hobbled towards him and he realized that its feet were distended from claws the size of piano keys that seemed to have erupted in the same manner as the bony protrusions, some appearing more like overgrown toenails while others appeared to have painfully split through between its toes. It was holding something.

“A token of my good faith.” Said the voice. The creature made no noise although it emphatically shook its outstretched hand, causing the nickel sized hunk of sulfur colored stone to bounce up and down. “Take it and you accept your role in the great game that is to begin. Or you can opt out; though I cannot guarantee that our desired future will come to pass without your help.”