What they saw, killed them
by Harbinger of Death

“This is a crummy assignment,” Heraclid grumbled.

“Well, it can’t be helped. All of our usual red-shirted hunters and slave men have escaped or been killed off. And we need wood for our fireplaces and the oven.” Bluetopaz handed him a satchel.

“Why can’t you do it?” Perrin said. “You look strong enough.”

“Thanks, I have been working out lately. But it’s not my job.”

“It’s not our job either!” Blackstar protested.

“I’m your mother and I say you’ll go,” she said, slapping him lightly upside the head. “Now get going before it gets too dark.”

The three hunters grumbled as they took the equipment and kindling satchel into the woods. What a raw deal!

“I’m gonna have words with this stupid Harbinger dude,” Blackstar said.

“Maybe you will, but I won’t,” said Heraclid. “I don’t plan on dying in order to meet him.”

“Good call. I’m going to lock myself up in my room when we get back.” Perrin agreed.

“This tree looks good. What do you say?”

“It’s as good as any. Let’s do it.”

After a brief dispute over who got to operate the chainsaw, Blackstar (who now had something of a black eye) and Perrin looked on while Heraclid started the thing and started to cut into the tree. But the machine coughed and sputtered, so he pulled it out of the tree to take a look as it idled.

“What’s wrong with it?” Perrin yelled over the din.

“I don’t know!” Heraclid yelled.

“I told you I should have done it!” Blackstar yelled. “Turn it off and let me try.”

“I can’t! It’s not responding. Whoooooa!” The chainsaw roared back to full power and dragged Heraclid around with it. The other hunters ducked and ran as the thing waved around in the air.

“Turn it off, turn it off!”

“I’m trying! It won’t!”

“Then let go!”

“I can’t! My hand is stuck! Aaaagh!!!” The three hunters were involved in a bizarre dance wherein Heraclid and the chainsaw advanced and the others retreated; he came around again and it all started over. Finally it caught up with one of them and lopped his arm off.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!” they all yelled, looking at the bleeding gaping hole in Blackstar’s shoulder. He fell to the ground, and the chainsaw leapt forward to carve him up like a turkey. Perrin stood frozen watching a horrified Heraclid try to hold back the metal from spilling Blackstar’s guts all over the place. Blackstar gurgled, looking to Perrin for help, before he gave up the ghost, his intestines in his hands.

“N-no,” Perrin said, backing away as the chainsaw turned on him. “Don’t do it!”

“Run!” Heraclid pleaded desperately. “It’s out of control! Run, get out of here!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Perrin hollered as he took off running. He could still hear the buzzing behind him, sometimes closer, sometimes a little further away. But he was tired and frightened, and stumbled over a log. The buzzing got closer as he tried to get back to his feet, and he nearly made it back into a gallop before he felt the blade slice down his back.

“Ouch...” He fell back down, and the saw continued to cut him in two, down between his ribs and the length of his back. Perrin laid in halves among the dead leaves.

Heraclid was panicked. How would he explain this to everyone? They’d think he did it purposely!

The chainsaw lifted slowly into the air. He realized he probably wouldn’t have to explain anything to anybody just before it dove swiftly to embed itself in his leg.

He fell and cried out in pain, his severed leg twitching as the last bits of energy in the nerve endings worked themselves out. The chainsaw finally died and was silent, and Heraclid worked his hand free. He threw it as far away from him as he could manage. As the blood seeped from his body into the forest floor, the last thing he saw was the cleaved corpse next to him before his vision clouded and he drew his last breath.