An author friend of mine was commenting about some of the outlandish novels that he was seeing advertised to him on Facebook, and came up with a hilarious synopsis for a story… So of course, I had to try to write it.
From Rory Raven: “When an ancient druid puts out a contract on Cthulhu, this retired samurai decides to take on one last mission. But he can’t do it alone — it looks like he’s going to have to patch things up with his long-estranged partner, Bigfoot.”
One Last Mission
By Chad Anctil
The stranger appeared to Hiro out of the trees on the south side of the garden, but did not move closer. The silence of the stranger’s approach through the trees told Hiro that it was no mortal man, but probably one of the forest kind who still inhabited the woods and streams where man’s influence had not yet corrupted. Hiro stood still, his old body tensed and ready to act if he needed it to, but he felt that would not be required here. He nodded once to the figure, and it glided out of the shadows and approached him smoothly.
The figure was human-like, but Hiro could tell that was a ruse to put him at ease. The figure gave off an aura of great age, and smelled of the deep earth. It wore robes of deep green and brown that seem to have been made of earth and moss and branch. Its hands were gnarled like tree roots, but Hiro knew they could move with frightening speed and cut deeply, if given the chance.
“Hiro Sōdomasutā, I am Traj Nandi, high druid of the deep caverns, and I come on behalf of the-”
“I know who you speak for, druid.” Hiro said, without malice but also without patience. “And you have entered my domain uninvited. Many who have been so brazen have never left this place… Even those such as yourself, as I think you are aware.”
Traj Nandi nodded and made a slight bow to the old man.
“We mean no disrespect, swordsman, and I would not have trespassed were it not for a matter of grave importance. I humbly request an audience; we are in need of your expertise.”
Hiro nodded and walked into the house, bidding the druid to follow him and making certain signs with his hands, indicating a promise of safety to all who entered his space. The druid bowed again and followed him. Hiro bade the druid to sit on a low black stool before walking to the small kitchen, where he started preparing a pot of tea over an open fire.
“A druid of the deep caverns, you say?” Hiro said as he prepared the tea leaves. “I knew one of your clan once, long ago. Rasmash.”
“Yes, it was Rasmash who sent me.” the druid said. “Among our clan, you are a legend. You and your sword.”
“That was long ago.” Hiro said, bringing the steaming pot of tea over and placing it on a low wooden table between them. He sat across from Traj Nandi and poured two cups of a sweet smelling purple tea. “I am no longer that man.” he lifted the cup with both hands and sipped. “I am just a simple man, enjoying a simple life.”
The druid looked at him with strange silver-green eyes.
“I am retired.” the old samurai clarified. “I no longer live that life. I have grown old, those days are over, those dangers are long past – “
“But, noble swordsman, the dangers are not gone… He is back.”
Hiro looked up from his tea, a single quiver at the corner of his eye the only indication of his acknowledgement. He took a deep breath.
“Cthulhu?” he said, and the word stung his lips as it left them. The druid nodded solemnly.
“His emissary has gathered the stones and has the blood amulet, and our spies have learned that he has also acquired the book. The stars are almost in position, and on the blood moon, he can do the summoning. He has all he needs to open the gate – “
“And cover all the worlds with madness and blood.” Hiro said. “Fucking Cthulhu.” he shook his head.
“So you will take the job?” the druid asked. Hiro breathed a deep sigh.
“To kill Cthulhu?” Hiro asked, shaking his head. “Honor demands that I must, yes… Dammit.”
_____
Hiro packed his leather satchel with supplies and carefully strapped on his old armor. It wore its age in not only the scratches in the paint and the cuts in the leather, but also in the way it fit Hiro, every piece perfectly aligned to him even after so long. It showed in the silence of its movements, the years of service having tuned it so that no part rubbed, no panel creaked, so that Hiro could move swiftly and silently on his mission.
Finally prepared, he used a series of precise and long practiced hand gestures over an intricately carved jade chest. The nearly invisible lid clicked and he slowly opened the chest, revealing the weapon within.
Rejendokirā, the legend-killer. A sword whose origins were long lost to the mists of time. A sword of myth, linked to Hiro by blood and ancient magic. A sword that could cut god himself – and had, long ago. The only weapon in the world that could face off against an elder chaos god. The sword that could possibly kill Cthulhu itself.
Hiro lifted the sword from its jade case, feeling the powerful hum of magic as sword and swordmaster were reunited, a familiar vibration filling him as he slipped the onyx scabbard through his belt and secured it with the black silken ribbons that adorned it. He bowed to the altar that had held the sword, steeled himself for the journey ahead, and left his house without turning back.
Hiro was old – older than even he liked to admit. He had trained his body and his mind nearly since birth. To most people he was still the famous master swordsman, and to most people he probably was. He knew he was still faster, stronger, and more deadly than almost any man alive… especially with Rejendokirā at his side. He also knew, however, that on this quest it was no man that he faced.
The blood moon was getting close and his quarry had a sizable head start, but before he could truly begin his journey he knew he needed help. He could not save the world if he was dead, could he? No, he could not, and he knew there was only one ally who could aid him in his deadly quest.
He traveled West, first on the roads, then on wagon paths, then small footpaths, then the barest of game trails. He walked into the night, and as the sun began to dawn behind him, Hiro was walking steadily upwards, into little-traveled foothills that led to ancient, fog-shrouded mountains. He climbed further still, until he found a rocky plateau that looked out upon a lush valley. A river snaked its way south, a distant ribbon that glittered in the morning sunlight. Hiro sat on a smooth boulder and waited.
“That you, of all people, would come here to my home, and sit upon my favorite rock…” came a deep, earthy voice behind Hiro. Hiro did not move.
“It has been a long time, old friend.” Hiro said, still not turning to see the voice.
“Oh, friend is it?” the voice said sarcastically. Hiro heard heavy footfalls on gravel.
“It was friend, long ago…” Hiro replied. “And I hope it is friend still.” He finally stood and turned, bowing to the figure that was now just a few feet away.
The creature was huge, more than eight feet tall and covered in a thick reddish-brown fur. It wore no clothes, but had a hide bag slung across its body. Its face was less than human, but not simian either. It’s eyes, though… The creatures’ eyes were deep, kind, and intelligent. There was an old wisdom in them.
“You left me there. In Lagos.” the creature said, shaking its hairy head with a kind of sadness and regret.
“I did.” Hiro said. “And I know now I should not have done that. I thought I was protecting you.” Hiro said truthfully. “They had black powder weapons. A lot of them.”
“I know.” the creature nodded. “But you should have let me make that choice. I’m over three hundred years old, you’re what, barely a century?” the deep voice growled.
“You are right, Nauwe of the Forest Tribes. And I ask for your forgiveness, and your help.” Hiro bowed deeply.
“Well you have always had my forgiveness, and my respect, swordmaster.” the creature said with a smile and a deep nod. “And seeing that you are carrying the legend-killer, I assumed you were here to ask for help. What’s the job?”
“Cthulhu.” Hiro said dourly.
“Fuck.” the bigfoot responded, shaking his head. “Just like old times…When do we leave?”
__________
The pair traveled south, with Nauwe leading Hiro easily through dense and seemingly impassable forest. The creature walked quickly and with ease, and Hiro had to maintain a quick pace to keep up with him.
“So the emissary has retrieved the stones, the blood amulet, and the book?” Nauwe asked, moving a large branch aside with ease.
“That is what I was told.” Hiro said, following through the gap cleared by the creature. “And on the blood moon, the emissary will open the gate, spreading death and chaos throughout all the lands of mankind and beyond.”
“If the emissary has the blood amulet and the book, defeating him before he can complete the opening will be difficult.”
Hiro nodded. “Very difficult. He will be infused with the powers of the chaos gods on the blood moon.”
“That will not matter to the sword.” Nauwe said, looking down at Rejendokirā, held safe in its scabbard.
“True, but unfortunately, it will matter greatly to the hand that holds the sword, my old friend.” Hiro nodded with a half-smile. “I will need your help to make my attack, and I fear Rejendokirā and I will only have one chance to strike.”
“I will give you your chance to strike, but for the recovery… you may be on your own.” Nauwe shook his head.
“Whether I make my strike or not, a follow-on attack will not matter. If I am successful, even if I fall, I will die an honorable death.”
“And if you are not successful?” the bigfoot asked him, already knowing the answer.
“Then I fear there will be no one left to mourn my failure or curse my legacy.” Hiro said matter of factly.
“Well, I have lived a long life and seen many things. If this is where I fall, I will have no regrets.” he looked down at Hiro. “But I would prefer to continue on long after this battle, if I have any choice in the matter.”
Hiro chuckled and nodded. “As would I, my old friend. As would I.”
______
As they entered the southern territories, on their way to the ruined temple the emissary would use for the summoning, they were met by cultists who served the emissary and, through him, Cthulhu. Their twisted masks and wicked, hooked knives surrounded Hiro and Nauwe, and they gibbered and chanted dark, blasphemous words as they closed in.
Hiro made a short shuffle forward and suddenly the legend-killer was in his hand and two cultists fell dead. Hiro spun to his left and darted forward so quickly Nauwe barely saw it happen, and then another cultist fell to the dirt, his head no longer attached to his still-twitching body.
Nauwe’s hand slid into the hide bag at his side and then shot up towards the two closest cultists. They screamed and were suddenly engulfed in yellow-green flames.
“That’s new.” Hiro mentioned as he made a quick shuffle towards another cultist, driving the legend-killer through the cultist’s sternum.
“Yes.” Nauwe replied casually as he lifted another cultist and slammed him against a nearby boulder with tremendous force. “It’s a mixture of several herbs and oils, combined with an incantation I learned from a dark elf.” The broken body landed on the earth with a dull, wet sound. “It burns very hot but it’s also sticky, and it burns under water.” he showed Hiro a small crystal vial full of green liquid and what looked like chunks of a silvery mineral. Nauwe threw it at the last two cultists with great force and they, too, shrieked as they were engulfed in yellow-green fire. Hiro nodded.
“We are going the right way” Hiro said as they continued on. He flicked the blood off of the silver-black blade of Rejendokirā and slid the sword back into its scabbard. “We will meet more opposition as we get closer.”
“If you call that opposition.” Nauwe scoffed.
“The emissary knows who follows him now.” Hiro said, his sandals making almost no sound on the dusty trail. “Our next adversaries will be more challenging.”
“Bring them on.” Nauwe said, and Hiro could tell the blood lust was on him. His kind were thought of as a peaceful race who lived in harmony with nature. They hid from the world of man, most believed it was for their own safety, but Hiro knew the truth – they hid from the world of man to ensure the safety of man as much as their own safety. They lived in harmony, yes, but when they were challenged they could explode with unnatural strength and ferocity, and some of their elders like Nauwe had a deep knowledge of forest magics and elixirs that could have a variety of interesting results when employed in combat. Hiro had seen it first hand many times, and was always thankful to have Nauwe as an ally.
Their next encounter was in the dead of night as a dream-stealer slunk out of the shadows as they slept, its smoke-like tendrils threatening to ensnare and trap Hiro and Nauwe. Hiro had not been sleeping, however, and the legend-killer flashed with a sinister glow as Hiro dispatched the creature spawned of dark magics and chaos with a practiced slice.
“The emissary only sent one?” Nauwe said, still laying on the mossy earth. He hadn’t even opened his eyes.
“For now.” Hiro said, re-sheathing Rejendokirā and laying back down. “There will undoubtedly be more.”
“The blood moon draws near.” Nauwe said.
“So it does.” Hiro said, looking up into the clear night sky.
_______
They reached the road to the southern shore and the great temple when Nauwe stopped, sniffing the air.
“Black powder.” he said, reaching into his satchel.
“Seven of them.” Hiro said calmly, squinting into the dense brush. “Plus an ogre.”
“Is that what that smell is?” Nauwe said with a sneer. “Disgusting.”
“The blackpowder weapons only get a single shot, and take time to reload.” Hiro said, hand slowly moving toward the hilt of his sword.
“How much time?” Nauwe asked.
“Too much.” Hiro grinned.
“So the trick is to not get hit by the initial volley.” Nauwe said, pulling a silver flask from his satchel.
“That would be the idea, yes.” Hiro said with an imperceptible nod.
“Then stay behind me, I will take their initial attack, then you incapacitate them before they can get another chance to attack.” Nauwe said, unscrewing the cap from his flask.
Hiro looked up at his hairy friend. “I would assume this is not some noble sacrifice?” he said, gray eyebrow raised. The bigfoot held up the flask with a smile.
“Stoneskin elixir, from the Draughn clan.” he said, then he uttered a quiet incantation and drained the whole flask in one gulp. He growled, then roared as his reddish-brown coat took on a strange blue hue, and he ran directly at the area where they knew the gunmen were hidden, shrieking with a beastly bellow.
Several things happened at once. There was a shout of alarm from the concealed assassins, and then the blackpowder rifles began to fire, the shots echoing like thunder in the quiet wilderness. Nauwe took several hits, grunting from the force of the blows, but the round lead pellets could not penetrate his enchantments. Hiro heard five rapid shots, then a sixth, and finally the seventh as Nauwe broke through their ranks.
Rejendokirā sang through the air as Hiro moved swiftly through the assassin’s ranks. Howls of anguish were cut short as the silver-black blade ended each life in turn, Hiro spinning and dodging each assassin as if it were a delicate dance. As his blade cut down the final assassin, whose head dropped heavily to the bloody earth, he heard a roar of pain mixed with anger from his left. He spun and saw Nauwe, now engaged with an ogre even larger than he was, wearing armor made of bone and scraps of rusted iron. The creatures’ face was partially obscured by a fearsome helm, but the crooked and diseased tusks jutted out of the twisted mask it wore.
“Would you care for some assistance, my friend?” Hiro said with a smirk. “I seem to have dispatched all of mine…”
“To be fair…” Nauwe grunted with exertion as he punched the ogre in its wide face, smashing its mask and making it howl. “Mine is a bit bigger than yours were. I believe I have him under control, however.” the bigfoot said, grabbing the ogre’s hand mid-punch and bending the mottled gray arm back, snapping it. This was met by a howl of pain and fury.
A moment later, Nauwe had snapped the thick neck of the ogre and it dropped heavily to the ground. Nauwe had a cut on his shoulder that bled freely, Hiro made a poultice and bandaged it quickly.
“Stoneskin didn’t last as long as I had hoped.” was all the bigfoot said as Hiro applied the natural wound dressing.
The battle won, the pair continued on, towards the shore and the ruined black temple that was their final destination.
_________
The blood moon was upon them and the cursed temple rose from the cliffs ahead as they drew closer. They could both feel the dark energy of chaos swirling, like a metallic taste in the mouth they couldn’t shake. They knew there would be rings of cultists between them and their goal, the great obsidian altar that the emissary would be using to complete the summoning ritual and open the great rift.
“I will only be able to get you one shot, old friend.” Nauwe said, flexing his huge arms and breathing heavily. He smelled of fear and excitement in equal measure.
“I will make sure it is all we need, then. It has been an honor to be fighting by your side once again, Nauwe of the Forest Tribes. If this be our last day together in this world, then may we be allies in the next.” Hiro said. The bigfoot nodded and pulled two crystal vials from his satchel. Both men began walking towards their goal.
The pair dispatched cultists that came running from all directions, mud creatures that popped up from the earth at their feet, shadowy minions who slinked between the cultists to strike with smoke-like tendrils of malevolent magics. Hiro and Nauwe continued forward, striking each foe down with fists, with fire, and with Rejendokirā the legend-killer ringing through the night air, glowing with silver-black fire.
The gates to the ruined temple were guarded by two shadowy, cat-like demons that crackled with the blood-red energies of chaos. They roared and the infernal sounds they made caused Nauwe to clasp his hands to his ears and wince in pain. Hiro appeared unaffected, however, and continued to walk forward to the massive gates, the legend-killer sheathed, his hand on the hilt. With a subtle gesture, he indicated to Nauwe to hang back, and the creature nodded and slowed his pace, still reeling from the diabolical sounds made by the demonic cats Hiro now faced.
Surprising Nauwe, Hiro paused and knelt on the earth, sitting back onto his legs, head down. He brought his hands together in a long practiced gesture and began to chant rhythmically, his fingers interlaced. The demonic cats paced back and forth, agitated and confused, roaring and hissing as the aged samurai continued to chant. At the height of the chant, the black and red tinged hackles went up on the backs of both demons and they rushed forward towards Hiro, leaping high in the air with razor sharp teeth and claws bared and ready to strike.
Hiro stood and unsheathed his sword in one fluid motion, impossibly fast, and rushed forward, sword slashing above his head in four sharp, precise movements. In the blink of an eye, the demon cats lay dead, Hiro between them, sword at the ready and coated with a deep red ichor.
“Their sides were enchanted. Armored.” Hiro explained as he cleaned the thick rancid fluid off his sword. “A normal strike would not have been lethal. I needed them to expose their stomachs.”
“And what was that chant?” Nauwe asked, “Protection? Guidance?”
“I was simply reciting the seven principles. Righteousness, Loyalty, Honor, Respect, Honesty, Courage. Consistency” He said, now walking through the final gate into the cursed temple. “Minions of chaos despise order and focus.”
“So you were what, then, making them angry?” Nauwe said with a curious grin.
“Precisely.” Hiro said. He put his hand to the hilt of his sword and peered into the darkness. The sound of dark, blasphemous chanting carried to them, more cultists aiding the emissary in its summoning. They would all die if the rift were opened, gladly sacrificed to the eldritch abomination they worshiped as a god.
“Are we too late?” Nauwe asked as they both witnessed the sickly green-black color shimmering before the altar. The emissary floated several feet in the air and it was clear that the gate was beginning to open.
“We cannot be. It’s not an option, the world depends upon us.” Hiro said, drawing Rejendokirā and rushing forward with staggering speed. He dispatched four cultists before Nauwe even realized what was happening, their hooked black blades clattering to the stone floor. Nauwe roared and entered the fray, punching cultists and using his incredible strength to throw them bodily from the fight.
The pair fought their way through many black-robed cultists as the chanting grew louder and louder. Hiro felt many blades glancing off his time-worn armor and he kept moving forward through the violent throng. He called out to Nauwe over the thunderous chaos.
“It must be now!” he screamed, and then there was Nauwe in front of him, his fur streaked with blood and ichor, using what looked like the leg of a cultist as a club, smashing the enemies that blocked their way to the altar, parting the sea of blood and chaos before them. The bigfoot began to march forward, battering their enemies to either side, then spun towards Hiro and dropped to one knee, nodding.
Hiro took a step forward and then lept and felt Nauwe’s strong hands assisting his leap. He flew smoothly over the grasping hands of the murderous cultists and brought the blood soaked blade of Rejendokirā down, thrusting it through the heart of the cursed emissary that floated before the opening rift of chaos. He continued the slice as he dropped to the obsidian floor, nearly bisecting the husk of the creature known as the emissary, but even as he landed the blow, he knew it would not be enough.
He looked back at the cultists that were surrounding Nauwe, viciously attacking him as he fought his way towards Hiro. Nauwe saw him and then looked past him and nodded slowly, sadly, continuing to fight for his very life.
Hiro spun on the altar and faced the rift, a gaping wound in reality which was already open and growing wider by the second. He saw the creature, the blasphemous Cthulhu, its massive bulk there just beyond the gate, the tendrils of its face writhing with excitement. If this elder god of chaos could not be stopped, this would be the place where the end of the world began.
Hiro gripped the legend-killer and breathed deeply, centering himself for absolute focus. He began his run, then leapt off of the great obsidian altar, his sword before him, driving it into that terrible gateway, the enchanted sword cutting through the chaos energies that flowed out of that cursed realm.
_________
What happened next only Nauwe would be able to recount, as he saw Hiro driving his sword through that rift and, guided by skill and destiny, driving Rejendokirā the Legend-Killer into the cursed bulk of Cthulhu himself. The backlash of energies slammed the rift closed, and that drove the remaining cultists mad with terror and grief. Once the summoning had been interrupted, the cultists either jumped into the sea or ran gibbering into the forest, leaving Nauwe standing there in the ruined temple, covered in blood and surrounded by the bodies of his fallen foes.
Though no one in the world of man would ever know of his victory or what he sacrificed to achieve it, the aging samurai Hiro Sōdomasutā would be revered as a hero and champion to all of the ancient mystical tribes of the forests, the seas, and those who dwelled in the deep earth. For centuries, songs would be sung and poems read in honor of the greatest swordsman to ever live, who sacrificed himself to save the world from ending in chaos and blood.
And that, patient reader, is the story of how an ancient druid once put out a contract on Cthulhu, and a retired samurai joined forces with his long-estranged partner, Bigfoot, to kill Cthulhu and save the world…
Visions of a Dark Horizon 
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