Chapter 3. Old temple pillars.
1445 Words
There is an unfortunate fact of nature.
The unfortunate truth of experience and age is,
That the more experienced you get at physical skills.
The less physical resources you have to benefit from that experience.
A ballet dancer might have five years of experience, but at the cost of five years of wear and tear of that intense training on the body.
A street cop might have ten years of experience in street brawling and chasing through dangerous ally’s but will also have ten years of physical injuries and scars.
They may end up constantly saying our modern classic cliche of,
“I am too old for this s**t!”
On, every other day!
A type of demon hunter, say, for instance, a witchfinder, may have twenty years of experience fighting the darkest forces of evil.
However, this would also be at the cost of twenty years of accumulated physical damage.
You may ‘know’ how to duck and block better but layers of injury and the natural ageing process will mean you can not be flexible and quick enough any more, to truly benefit from that twenty years of experience.
Unless of course, you have twenty years of combat experience and then somehow found yourself inhabiting an embodiment of physical perfection that was physically, only twenty years old.
Well, If that could happen, you would then get to have the best of both worlds!
You would have the experience of an old warrior in the body of a lith and flexible youth.
This is what had happened!
The ex-witch hunter now had twenty years of experience in both combat and life in general but now with the extra added bonus of also being in a perfect young body.
So he/she was surprised how easy it was for him to do a standing jump back onto the three-foot-tall statue plinth.
He/she still nearly tripped because of the long with toga and the higher centre of gravity to still get used to though.
He/she sighed as he/she resined himself/herself to do the tactically sensible thing.
With a flurry, the toga was pulled off to reveal the perfect naked body of a flawless seduction goddess.
The tactical thinking was this, that if he/she tripped on that stupidly long toga at the wrong moment while in the heat of combat then she/she would be very quickly killed.
The precious crown remained unseen in the bundle.
The mini Calvery slowed slightly.
The hardened demon fighters had been trained to fight even the most seductive of demons, and so, were not distracted by the mere beauty of naked female flesh, no matter how perfect that body was.
The ex-witch finder looked about and assessed his/her chances of hoping up from pillar to higher pillar.
He/she did not like his/her chances
“Dam!” he/she thought,
“If only I was forty years younger!”
Then he/she quickly remembered that he/she was, in fact, not just forty years younger but instead sixty years younger and in a far superior body.
So up he/she popped, up form pilar to ever taller pillar.
He knew the effective range of the “Old Bess”, the sawn-off black powder gun, his younger self had.
It was meant to decimate to pulp a large number of monsters in a short cone directly in front of you.
It was a devastating weapon those circumstances
But Beyond six feet, it quickly became useless.
It was a short-range shock weapon, not a hunting rifle.
The horses slowed to a trot around the base of the columns.
The sharp splintered bones and lumpy bodies of the cultist victims made horsemanship more difficult.
While the slick of gore and body fluids that were meant to be on the inside meant that both stone and grass were slippery.
The young witchfinder glared up the naked demonic redhead vision.
“You can not stay up there forever”
“Us holly warriors will avenge these poor innocents”
“I had nothing to do with this“ Said the naked woman
“Save you lies, demoness,” said the young witchfinder.
“I am not lying, Samual,” said the naked woman.
“You know of me, Hell slut!” Shouted the young witchfinder
“I know all about you Samual A Edward, and I promise you that I am not your enemy,”
“What else do you know?” shouted the young man.
“I know the -A- in your middle name stands for Avenger,” Replied the woman.
“I also know you have recently met an fallen for young mistress Lilith Fortune”
“You having such knowledge,” the young leader replied,
“Knowledge you should not know, only proves your demon hood!”
The ex-witch finder shrugged internally, he/she had to admit, it was a fair point that his younger self had made.
But he knew what his/her younger selfs tactic would next be, and was ready for it.
Just as predicted oil flasks were thrown at the base of the old stone columns.
The flames could never reach him/her but then, they were never meant to.
They were only meant to weaken the ancient stones.
Later the six troops tied ropes over the now dying flames, and around the columns and used the horses to pull.
But the ex-witchfinder was ready for it.
The columns were a good way from the cliff edge,
But as the top toppled, that edge would be effectively nearer for a short while.
With perfect timing aided by decades of swashbuckling experience, he/she reckoned that if they could push off at the right moment, that they could reach over that edge.
The rocks below were deadly, but he/she knew from more than twelve battles here that there was a space between them and could roughly guess where that space would be from here.
As the columns slowly moved, as the horse strained on their ropes, He/she tried to alter the direction that they would fall, by simply leaning as the right moments,
He/she had to get the entire single leap and its angel just right.
The pillars did not topple in the exact direction the horsemen thought they would fall.
But they did topple in the exact direction that the ex-witch finder wanted them to.
As the high stone surface that he/she was on, tilted and fell, as that surface reached an angle of very nearly ninety degrees.
He/she pushed then off with her perfect long legs with a youthful power and gracefully swan dived into the sea with perfect precision!
The winning combination of both vast experience and perfect physique won the day.
The witchfinder and his men got as close to the edge as they dared to peer over.
“No one is going to survive that sarge,” said one man.
The young Witchfinder Samual A Edward grunted in half agreement.
“Even ‘if’, as a demoness, she was strong enough to survive the initial fall, blood class demons and undead hate salt. It kills them as surly as silver kills werewolves!” said another man.
Samual A Edward nodded silently.
It had been a good day overall.
They had missed the blood cultist but they had destroyed their succubus leader.
He turned to his five men.
“We still have plenty of work before chow and bed lads” he commanded.
“You three on the watch for returning cultist”
“Me, and the rest will finish trying to destroy this these evil ruins and then sanctify the earth with blessings, silver and salt,”
Yes, It had been a good day overall, for none of his men had died that day!
Throughout the universe was the eco of an old female crone voice…
“No one will notice!”
The universe bucked ever so slightly at the survival of three men who should have died that day,
And the multitudes of descendants that those men would have.
Of all the countless things that those new descendants will now do.
All the effects of all the rewriting of future history that would now have to happen, put a strain on reality.
Demons sniffed the new quintessence of the metaphysical fields that were changing and forming in some very unexpected ways.
For some reason, the wall that kept them all from the tasty mortal realms were getting thinner!
And formless mouths of the nameless void drooled at the thought!
Throughout the universe was the eco of that same old female crone voice…
“No one cares…!”
In the full moonlight, a beautiful female figure swam onto the beach.
Water cascading off her perfect form.
A pure vision of intense sexuality, fantasy and erotic loveliness.
Inside this beauty though were the thoughts of an eighty-year-old man.
Who was thinking,
“I want a beer, a pipe and a very greasy pork pie!”
Great novels start here
- Writer
