The Brute Delusions
Overwhelming sadness. Sitting in the Cell of the Garda half dragged by a mob. Rein had warned him but he was foolish to trust Envith Ianthe's friend in the open. He should of walked pass him but Jack didn't want to hurt the fella. He was one of the few people he helped to learn to make steel. The domn just wanted the truth. The truth Rein and Galt blabbed to the world instead of keeping to themselves. It only took less than a day for the whole world to come after Jack. He didn't even have a good run. It didn't matter he knew it didn't matter they would hunt him down like an animal on every corner of the Core. They didn't care for Count Strahd's law, they didn't care of the injustices he suffered, they didn't care what he had to do to survive. They only cared for themselves. While Halvor killed countless of lives and encourage to bring back an evil worst than himself those people had the time to consider him as much a threat as Lord Soth. But, Jack was alone. He was always alone. For once he thought maybe just maybe he could be close.
so many had welcomed him in his shop. So many had waved hello to him welcoming him into their lives. Unlike the past. The past he tried to hide from the past he tried to forget. Each day was hell for him... since the Mist gave birth to him every day was kill or be killed. As savage with no memory the Garda beat him every day. A rare handful of outlanders tried to teach him to speak. But, they either incapacitated him and stole his fang or things, especially the pitics, or simply beat him up for existing as he was. How funny a Lance Corporal and her Garda private would take the time to teach him to b civilized, teach him balok, to teach a stupid savage to be a Barovian.
In his cell smiling uncontrollably tears staining his cheeks it was funny. The Garda who everybody hated and feared were kinder to him than any of those halflings who kept stealing from him. Or they Misters at the Mist Camp who would beat them because he didn't like how their friends treated him. His first real friend a Druid was killed by outlanders all because of a shitty thousand fang bounty. He hated outlanders and accepted the barovian way of life. He beat, taunt, and antagonize every outlander breaking the Count's law and reported them to the Garda as a good barovian should have done. When he was honored for his actions he got to meet the strongest man of all of Barovia Count Strahd.
Tall, black slick hair, well dressed, the man was the entirety of strength and realness. His very presence intimidated Jack. Something else of the man also frighten Jack unnaturally. The man looked at Jack as a lowly servant a pitiful sheep. It was clear Count Strahd was above all and was all. Jack wanted to be like the Garda be like this man because strength dominated all. Though rewarded five thousand fangs the Count was very clear on his disgust and disconcert of Jack being an outlander let alone acting like a Barovian appauled him. But, the Count was equally amused by the notion this dult was easily sway to the cause of Barovia. When Jack asked for no reward other than to be truly Barovian the words the Count spoke chilled him to the bone.
"You will never truly be Barovian. You will never earn the title of being a Barovian. You are nothing more than a guest in my land obeying my laws gives you only my respite instead of killing the lot of you. You however provide a resource in serving as a servant in my lands in my country. Remember well your place outlander you are no Barovian. Obey my lands laws, harm no vistani, harm no barovian, and you may live the rest of your meager life with out fear. Anger me and you will know swiftly my hand and my justice."
Shuddering at the memory the oaf recalled the stories by outlanders especially after Lyssa and Carmella... the truth of Strahd. That day he truly thought he could be Barovian but even as he politely declined the Count's offer for dinner being unworthy and having a sack of coin thrown at him Jack hurriedly left Castle Ravenloft never forgetting that memory. "Power was everything. Those with power make the rules."
Memories slipped and went. Memories of how he bullied outlanders in the Morning Lord temple. Outlanders the cultist allowed to break the laws. Cultist themselves breaking the laws of Count by harboring Caliban and showing the mercy. He did his best to be a good Barovian a good citizen. And even the Garda would betray him turn on him. He did everything the Garda asked and better. so it was natural for them to hate him too for doing the things they couldn't Even after he supplied them with steel to fight the outlanders. even barricading the well and many other places by the word of the Garda the Outlanders complained and had him outcast. Him, the very man who gave them steel freely got them wares to fight against neuri and outlanders with wicked vraja. Reduce to an outcast and used to flesh out criminals in the Drain like some dog.
Jack stopped sobbing. He rose angrily muttering to himself. "Stoopid outlanders!" Raging behind the bars almost madden by the word alone. Outlanders persecuted him wrongfully. Beat him for following the laws of the nation they were guests in. They outcast him when he was following the law of their Count. He pounded the ground angrily till a Garda told him to be silent and he drew into a corner naked but for his loin cloth cowering in the corner rocking back and fourth a hand holding his head and feeling his marred marks and scars.
"Outlanders..." Jack murmured. When Molly the child Vrolok came many were afraid many were intimidated by such a little thing. That day below the temple of the Morning lord was the fateful day. He had single handedly ejected an outlander from the temple protecting a Caliban. The Garda took it from there and told Jack to leave down the catacombs as there were a mob of outlanders at the front of the Temple thirsty for his blood. Uknowingly the oaf lumbered through knowing a few exits underground and that's where he met her. "Molly."
At first feared came then realization that he was thrice her size and capable of killing it he be a hero. But, what threw the oaf from such thoughts were the tears the small Vrolok shed. Tears of blood was something unnatural Barovians should fear Vraja and Vroloks but Jack approached stupidly brave to her and ask. "What's wrong liddle one." At first she was threatening, then cunning, then Jack offered his blood in exchange that she did not misbehave to anyone except those that wronged her. They played and talked of many things. He knew if he did this n one would be hurt. No one else would have to suffer. Molly did not need to suffer. She was oddly kind to him, although like a pet and playmate, she was spoil. But, the oaf made her dresses and dolls and toys that any child would like. But, even so "Outlanders" insisted to hunt her. Insisted because she was a monster she was incapable of feelings.
"Jack who is really a monster? I need to feed to live. Much like people eat animals to live. Isn't it all murder in some way?" spoke the child Vrolok once to the oaf.
It made sense. Did dogs not cry when you wound them. Did cows not go big eye when you killed one of them. Did sheep not fall on their sides stun from the fear of death? She wasn't wrong in this. She had guided him in safety through vraja to watch as Outlanders killed outlanders over small infractions, Hid their corpses from their loves ones for simply having a bounty no more than a thousand on their heads, murder one another on principle of defending a friend who feared falsely for their life. She had shown him the truth the very truth everyone denied. The truth that would form his life and his death.
Soon after he met the Mist Man, He never knew if it was a vrolok or an entity of the Mists itself, but it spoke to him. Hid inside him. It hurt at first but Jack grew accustomed and stronger for the constant aid the Mist Man provided. It too was a monster but this monster in it's whispers gave Jack guidance. More guidance than anyone he encountered. As Jack grew stronger fighting Neuri with his bare hands and weapons the Mist Man taught him many things about the world. About crafting, art, and money. Especially about money. All the Mist Man wanted was a friend to talk to a host to hide in and feel safe. Maybe they did use him. But, they never killed Jack. They never intentionally hurt Jack much like the outlanders did every day. He recalled when the Mists of death came and he was spared. The Mist Man looked him in the eyes and told him to go. He had killed the outlanders because they had beaten and stole from Jack that day while he was on the road. Jack didn't want people to die but he didn't care for the outlanders that did nothing to help him. They deserved it they asked for it.
When he introduced the Mist Man and Molly they were at first odd friends. But, they worked well enough together and occasionally played under Jack's supervision. It was the closest thing to real friends Jack had ever had. That was when they came to hunt Molly. The outlanders came into the tunnels of their secret playing place unannounced. Jack didn't want the people to die... he didn't want anyone to die. He pleaded to the outlanders that attacking Molly and the Mist Man would only cause their death. "They didn't listen..."
Jack was able to distract the paladin and his three friends long enough for Molly to escape. The paladin hurt Jack... he didn't want to kill them. He was able to smash the skull of the paladin into unconsciousness. The other three a rogue came behind him and struck him badly. He impaired the fiend with his great ax. The Mist Man was weakened and the other two had them on the ropes. One of the men fled for his life the other foolishly stood against the Mist Man. Jack knocked him unconscious. Jack knew they both had to leave and told them they had to return to the Mists. So they ran and ran. The day before Molly had given Jack a gift. A Vial of blood. Her blood that shimmered with flecks of gold. It was pretty to look at. It was endearing to Jack that even a Vrolok would return a debt of blood to a human. He touch his jacket where he kept it.
"Running, running, outlanders....." the oaf murmured in the Cell weeping.
They had made it to the Mist. They had made it Jack was happy and sad he was going to lose his friends. Though their departure was short lived when the four returned to hunt them down. This time Molly did not hesitate to attack and use vraja on them. However the paladin proved stronger than before. Jack knew the vraja of the paladin hurt his friends and with blinding unfiltered rage Jack valiantly pulled out his great ax smashing the paladin to the mix of metal and flesh resounded in his ears. The oaf continued to rage through the battle unhinged, Angry, begging... "Leave us alone! Ju are the monsters! Ju kill each other for less and ju will die fer less!!!"
The oaf fought till he was exhausted and his wounds severe. When the last man fell Jack felt the seeping weakness from using his rage. The fatigue, the exertion heavy, he was dying. Laying in his own pool of blood the Vrolok shed tears of blood. Tears a creature so foreign should not shed tears. She asked if he would like to be turned. He declined. The Mist Man was wounded if Mist cans be wounded he was smaller and less visible. "Breathe me in Jack. I will give to you what life I have left. Breathe."
"Jack I must leave. Live. I want you to live. Do not forget me okay? Pinky promise?" Molly had said to the dying oaf. She too was drain and her vraja was incapable of saving him. Not like he was now. Dying he called out to the mist as he breathed in the Mist Man and pulled out the vial. "Oh Mists save me. I dun no wrong. I did good. Dey tried to kill me even though they kill each other fer less. I drink this blood of a child vrolok and letcha make of me what ju vill as long as I dun die. If I die make me whatcha vill. Make me something to avenge my friends and avenge my wrongs. It was ju who saved demn and ju who'll save me. I curse those who deny me strength Gimme strength to beat them. Gimme life so I can avenge demn. I curse the outlanders and people who wrong me! I curse them an drag them to you for judgin'!"
That's when he drank the vial. That was when Jack had changed he was tired. So tired of the wrongs. So tired of those who were stronger preying on the weaker. He didn't want to die. Jack didn't want to become something else. But, is anger, his fear, his sorrow drove him to down the hot burning liquid and breathe in the mist. The Angry Ax died that day. He slept for some time. And when he awoke he was hungry. Hungrier than he should be. He sat up looking at his wounds mist seep through and mend his flesh. He ate the rations in his pack only to spit it out violently disgusted. He drank alcohol and water but never felt full. He eyed around and stared at the warm bodies left. Lips moist like a man hungered from starvation as he crawled to the paladin's body and leaned over it ripping the mashed plate and flesh and digging through the flesh till he pulled out his first heart. He devoured it like a child biting an apple for the first time. In his realization of what he done he howled in frustration and tears out toward the mists violently beating the bodies eating each one's heart and leaving the bodies for the mist to judge.