Now the following is a little bit more complex - they were all saved in one computer file, though they were all written at different times. They are journal entries of sorts; before you ask, no I don't suffer from MPD and yes I know all the names are different. There is an explanation behind that, though that might make me sound even crazier. :P
A sword that holds no edge and impossible to sharpen is herald by some to be the ultimate weapon. This blade is both an awesome force, and a terrible curse. Those who wield it must give to it an offering of their own blood, before each battle. A tiny pin prick gives the blade a razor edge. With each drop of blood spilt by the blade grants to its keeper strength and near instant rejuvenation. This comes at a terrible cost, for the blade slowly feeds upon the wielder, it is a parasite. The blade is appeased with blood, and its so called master gains an addiction to it. To sustain oneself, you must also appease the blade. One is forced to kill to keep themselves alive. Though the blade could slay an army with ease, the cost is great, for the cost is yourself. So let this be known, for all who may find this letter, and this forsaken blade. I have not the strength or the will to cast this blade into some deep crevice. May you find the power to do what I could not.
Adrius Mordran
3rd son of lord Adran,
Sovereign of Kalisnor, father of Adrimis, heir to my possessions
~The sword is cursed, it is our legacy, Adrimis it is now yours, do with it what you will~
There all dead, everyone is dead. The darkness came and robbed them of life. That shadow that blackened curse has claimed them. I know not what malicious evil has created this nightmare. It consumes the light, this darkness that cannot be stopped. No blade can pierce it, for it is as intangible as air. No spell can destroy it, for it is evil, pure unrefined evil. No light can hinder it, for it is stronger. Clicking, I hear it, the tapping… that god awful sound. It comes, it approaches. I am dead; there is no hope for me. May those who find this fare better than I. The Shadow comes.
Badrin Morrfire
I am blind, but I see that which you cannot perceive. I am deaf but I have heard the sounds of suffering. I cannot feel, but I have still felt the cold prick of Death against my skin. Know this my students, though I have never heard your voice, or seen your face, I know you all by the heart. I am going to pass from this world, tonight. I shall not suffer long. Please do not blame yourselves. I have known this day was to come, since first we met. You’re going to do this, but you will regret it. Do not judge yourself so harshly. It is not yours, or anyone’s fault. My death shall simply begin your journey. I ask your fellow students not to pass judgment on you, for it is not your fault. It is destiny, follow it, become it.
Kel’This
The last known words of a Wiseman
I am the immortal Talis, archangel of the high heavens. I have no soul to speak of. I was created, not so long ago. The elders made me, for a task no other was willing to do. My true purpose is unknown, but I know I am tired to the Watcher. Not to his charge, the Sleeper or the Dreamer, just to the Watcher. The elders do not speak of the task for which I was created, stead they have me do menial tasks. I wish to know why I was created, as to what my true purpose is.
Talis
Awaiting the sunrise, I sat upon the Aviary, overlooking the calm and quiet sea. Upon the rocks below the sea crashed into frothing foam. The taste of the salty sea air was strange against my lips. I watched with ever patience for the first rays of the sun to peer over the calm clear sea. As the sun began its rise, I saw the sea and sky alike; soften into hues of gold and pink. Deep sea green burned softly of amber light. The few passing clouds were aflame wit orange and gold. The horizon was a surreal pink. I wept, not for my wounds, or my murdered love, not for my missing half, but for the beauty of this sunrise. I was human again, I was myself and… I was alone, more now then every before
Kyle
My eyes burn with hate, my soul is twisted with the perversions of sorrow. I am defined not by who I love, but by who my desires seek to make suffer. Everyone who exists in this world disgusts me, the people, the animals; everything in this world makes me sick. I was made to suffer, yet nobody gave a damn. My pain was ignored, and I was left to die. I didn’t die; I’m stronger because of this tragedy. I now am ready to get my revenge. They will all suffer… beware thee who finds this, for I come.
~Marlinis~
I am forever walking, afraid to look back… Fearful of past mistakes, afraid to see the demon burning inside. Beneath its pale red skin, reflected deep within its hollow eyes is myself. I hurried as quickly as I could, down this “tour” of my past sins. I endured every moment of my horrific edification. It became clear to me; I could no more evade the transgressions of my past mistakes. I then, in the hope of my own salvation, turned to face the past, all I found was my own demon… it smiled at me. I knew then I was cursed.
~Wesley~
My blood ran cold, as the freezing winds chilled me to the very marrow of my bones. I could do not but stare ahead, as the white plains of snow that had stretched so endlessly ahead gave way to a field of blood. The broken remains of arms, armor and bodies littered for yards around. A thousand or more broken discarded remains of what was once the proud Frostsharian’s Imperial Army. The twisted and desecrated remains of their bodies stretched near as far as I could see. Never in my worst nightmares could I have imagined such a horrific depravity of life. Bodies left to rot slowly under the artic sun. I did the only thing I could… I gathered the bodies of the Frostlings and I set them ablaze. A giant funeral pure, the greatest honor for their kind. I said a silent prayer for the departed, and left once the last of the embers faded and died.
Leon Ehome
Like the above, this is a collection that was saved under one file for one reason or another. A much shorter list this time, so at least that is something to be thankful for - yes?
Also on a special note - the first one listed here is a personal favorite of mine. I'm not really one to take credit for it, yet I am insanely proud of what I brought to paper one day.
An ill wind forever blows down the streets of Duskroot, City of the Damned. Evil walks its unhallowed streets, evil dwells in its darkened halls… for all who call the city of Duskroot home, are neither alive nor dead. Half human and less, home is Duskroot, to ghouls. Home it be to vampires and the undead. There evil touch is half felt in the land… but in Duskroot evil is personified, for the dead prowl ever more, and forever in time, the streets of Duskroot City of the Damned… City of Death… where the light that is the world, never shines… upon the streets of Duskroot City of the Damned.
~Exert from the Black Book~
He who sees to seek the stone of heavenly might, shall do so at the cost of ones own soul The light that shines forever bright from the Ivory halls, shall heed not the call of man or beast, save to wash the land in its glory. Those who would seek it , be men of evil… for no man whose glory be good ever need see it to know its power
~Exert from the tome of Lost Secrets~
I am older then the stars in the sky. I was here before their was even nothing. There was my conscious and t predated the nothing. And then somewhere before even time, death came, and created the Void of Death, Then life came, I know not when though, for time did not come till the first thing in the void was breathed to life. Life, Death, and Time existed for eons, before they realized my presence. They wrapped me in an immortal husk, and placed me on their favored world. My conscious still stretches through the cosmos, and I have seen the birth of many races. So I write this book, the book of Origins, to reveal some of the mystery of the shadowed past
The First One
~Exert from the Book of Origins~
This is another bit of writing I did a few years back - it was somewhat of an introduction post to something that again, never went anywhere. Have at it.
Journal Entry - 2006
In a place forgotten by time and destiny, amongst rotted skulls and broken dreams, dwells an ancient and terrible force. It is pure and utter madness that drive men to delve deep into the depths of the earth... far beyond the twisted tunnels of the great dark... buried farther and deeper then even hope can go. It is truly only madness that could carry a man so far beyond the light, beyond reason... to where silence prevails, and life cannot exist.
Here, in the deepest parts of the earths recess, exists such a force terrible in all its glory, the power to sunder the world stirs anew... consuming all those foolish enough to delve so deeply into the earth. A hunger that cannot satiated by blood or flesh, for only fury can truly drive such power. Here twisting and winding down darkened halls of ancient structures, buried and forgotten by all but the most learned men... and only sought by those so foolish as to seek the very breath of hell.
Locked deep within the earth this power dwells, forbidden from man, angel and hell kind alike, it waits... hungering. What could create such a being of malice? Of intangible hate? What could drive such a macabre creation...? That answer has escaped me for decades... and for centuries I shall seek to plum the very depths of this madness. But even I... find this to be taxing... to be a near impossibility, to expose myself to this... entity. Someday... I shall unlock the secrets of that place... of the birthing chambers... the secrets... to existence.
Exert from the 12th Tomb of Research by: Talos Arcnum ~ The Immortal Necromancer
Now here is something semi-special, not because it is fantastic or excellent but in the fact that this was really meant to go somewhere. Somewhere in the early stages of writing it my "writers block" drove me from the project though.
Eternity Saga - 2006
The sky will be as pitch, as the Harbinger crosses the Void of Death. From a great vortex that splits the heavens shall come a citadel of rock and stone, From here the Harbinger shall endeavor to create a world fit for a new age of darkness. Upon the circle of old shall be drawn the powers of Eternity, to decay and corrupt the Force of Creation.
A light in the darkness, a glimmer of hope, there can be found in the form of the Seven Children of Eternity, whose power could realign the misguided energies of Creation, setting right what the Harbinger seeks to lead astray.
~Ancient Prophecy of Velin~
Light streamed through the windows of Velin’s High Temple, shining down into the chapel and halls, driving away all but the last vestiges of shadows hiding in the far corners, almost as if it were trying to breech the floor boards, and illuminate the murky depths of the catacombs beneath.
Through a brightly painted window, a mosaic of two knights battling the minions of hell, the light shone upon the faces of young man and a boy, sleeping peacefully in worn cots on the floor. The older of the two sat up, his face young and soft, as he yawned brushing a coil of his short blonde hair out of his face. He smiled as he glanced over at the boy sleeping next to him, his soft brown eyes staring fondly at the sleeping form next to him. He gently touched the boys cheek, before moving to touch the boys long black hair, “You’ve always looked so angelic when you sleep…” he whispered serenely
The boy gently tightened his grip around his pillow, his face innocent and pure as he smiled lightly to the familiar touch, letting out a content sigh as the older one began to shake him gently, whispering softly “Its time to wake up Braden, morning has come.”
Braden sleepily rolled over, mumbling somewhere between sleep and awake “Just a few more minutes Thomas…” nestled his head into Thomas’s lap and fell into a deep relaxed sleep, as Thomas gently ran his fingers through Braden’s hair.
Thomas smiled lightly, unaware of the drama playing out in the Arch-Bishops chamber, as men argued and voices were raised disturbing the tranquil aura that had long enveloped this place.
The tension was evident in the air like a stagnated cloud, as the Arch Bishop and the other clergy argued furiously over just how to interpret the events that had transpired over the past few days, especially what had occurred just last night.
After a few hours there came a light tapping on their chamber door, and a voice that sounded even younger then them “Excuse me sirs,” the voice said from the other side of the shut door “but your audience has been requested in the Arch Bishops chamber, Thomas.”
Thomas slowly rose to his feet, and after dressing himself in his ceremonial robe, he pushed open the chamber door “Thank you, Mavri” he said to the boy before turning to face Braden “Now I’ll be back soon okay?”
Braden nodded and responded that he’d keep himself busy until his return.
And here is another semi-special project as well. Again only because it was supposed to go somewhere.
The Hunter - 2006
Chapter I: A Chance Encounter
Every muscle in her body was taught; it felt as if her entire nervous system was set on fire. Her eyes darted back and forth from each tree, shrub and rock. She couldn’t see her foe, nor could she see her companion either. She started to wonder if she was truly alone, and for a split second her body relaxed, and it was in that instant it sprung.
Claws outstretched as the half bird, Shi’Goulm as the locals called it, prepared to sink its claws into her shoulders, its razor beak would set next upon her neck, to crush her spine with a single snap of its powerful jaws. She stumbled back, her mouth gaping to scream, but no sound came out.
“Why didn’t I ever tell him?” she thought as her life flashed before her eyes “its all-pointless now.”
Tears began forming in her eyes, to realize that she had missed her chance. It was than that she heard a clear voice ring out from the canopy above, a voice that carried all the softness of the wind, but the firmness of the very living rock. Angelic yet fearsome, sweet but terrifying, his voice carried all the wonders and terrors possible from mortal lips.
“Get away from her,” the voice said from above “you wretched beast!”
The beast stopped for a split second to glance upwards, only to see two blades sinking into its shoulders, and flung it a ways into a tree. The man spun on his heels, leaping forward at it in a charge, letting his blades lead the way.
They flew from his hands and stuck it in its arms, grabbing a crossbow from beneath his long brown coat, firing a single bolt straight through the center of its head. Blood dripping down its beak and chest to pool at its feet, the bolt pinning its head to the base of the tree, as the man made his way slowly over to it.
Placing his heavy brown boot to its chest, he ripped both blades out with hardly a sound as he turned to face the woman, “You need to be more careful,” he said with a sigh, “or you’ll end up as chicken feed.”
He walked past her without so much as a casual glance, leaving her to help herself up. “Damn it why do I care for him?” she mused to herself “He seems so heartless… so cold. Yet I know there is more there… a part of him that wishes to open up, and show his heart. All of his love and pain that is inside him.”
She staggered to her feet swaying slightly, as if a gentle breeze would threaten to knock her over, as she reached for a nearby rock to support her. She misjudged the distance slightly and lost her balance, she gasped slightly her eyes going wide, as she knew that she was going to hit the rock.
In one instant she was falling, and as if some twist of fate she noticed her left temple was aimed directly for the blunt of the impact, and in the next she was enveloped in a strong and gentle embrace. She glanced up to see his face looking down at her, a soft smile across his face. So pure so, soft was his expression, but his face seemed to be hardened by hate and scorn for some undeserved misgiving years ago.
She smiled back at him, bringing her face close to his, as he softly pressed his lips to hers. His hands pressing her up further, deepening the kiss considerably, and she could have sworn she heard the sounds of angels singing a chorus of love. She could feel all of his energy flowing deeply into her, filling her body full of warmth, causing her nerves to tingle, gaining that fiery sensation, in a good way, again. But she could feel something else… something fouler, almost sinister as well. Something cold that nipped at her heart. Almost as if he was pouring a little bit of the negative energy that made him cold to her, into her.
“That’s it,” she thought, “its this negative shroud that makes him so cold. For him to be happy… even for a moment, he passes a little on to another… oh I wish I could take it all from him.”
His hands slid up beneath her shirt, pressed to the warm skin of her back, breaking the kiss as he smiled at her, gently nuzzling into her neck, her arms finding there way around his.
There eyes met, and stayed locked, a sort of mutual expression of desire, lust, love, compassion… and a deep burning passion that needed to be filled as they had just a few times in the seven years they’d been traveling together.
He scooped her up into his arms, his hands still pressing against her skin. He carefully and slowly picked his way through the brush, seeking a quiet place of refuge.
He found his way to a quiet riverbank, as he laid her against the soft grass, kneeling next to her. His hands found there way under her crap, gently caressing her stomach, a soft smile spreading across his lips.
Her nerves were set a fire, as her body began to tingle with excitement and anticipation. She longed for him, just as much as she knew he longed for her.
She let out a slight gasp, as his hands inched slowly up her stomach, a tinge of delight passed though her, as his hand pressed in between her breasts.
He rested his hand on her chest, his fingers curved to feel her heartbeat. He brought his other hand to caress her cheek, as he leaned down to kiss her lips softly, she smiled slightly as she returned it.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, his hand sliding back down her chest, to gently rest upon her stomach. His thumb gently massaged just at the center of her belt line, as she pulled him closer to her.
The look of love, and sorrow trapped in his eyes, made her melt. Little did she realize, is that the smile that spreads across her lips, made him melt even more than his eyes did to her.
“This is the one”, she thought to herself, as he slowly leaned down to kiss her again “he really is.”
It was in the next instant that he pushed her aside, sending her rolling across the grass as another Shi’Goulm snapped down at where they had been lying, its powerful jaws snapping up a mouthful of grass and dirt.
Rolling quickly to his feet, he unsheathed his daggers, the blades seeming to be mini-falchions, and striking the first one to the beasts neck, the other being thrust at a downwards angle into its spine. Turning deftly on his heels he ripped the blades from the creature and booted its corpse into the stream.
“Hmm”, the man mused out loud more to himself than anyone, “This is most strange. These creatures cannot stand sunlight.” He stopped for a moment to dust himself off “Damn it. I was hoping to attract the conjurer, not the beast.”
“Wait a second Hunter”, she stammered as she furrowed her brows “you mean you knew this thing was going to attack?”
He nodded and gave a simple yes in response, to her dismay and shock.
“W-what about us?” she snapped defensively “About what we’ve shared… doesn’t that matter?
“It never mattered.” The Hunter replied, and she tried to give a response but he cut her off as he continued “Its all predators and prey. You either hunt or are hunted. Kill to survive. That’s the way this world works. What we’ve shared? That’s all animalistic. Any of the higher animals, even humans, require companionship. They seek emotional security in another of their species. That’s what we’ve shared. Just an animalistic, instinctive, and emotional attachment and expression for the sake of our mental state, its just nature’s way of keeping us sane, that’s all, is that a problem?”
She shut her eyes for a moment, and stifled a sigh from her heart. A deep and sorrowful sigh, the sound of a dieing heart. She drew back her arm and swung it towards his face, a look of betrayal and hurt in her eyes. The Hunter easily caught her fist in his strong hand with a sickening grin across his face as he spoke “So tell me, still in the mood. That instinct still burns within me.”
She pulled back away from him and turned and ran randomly into the woods, her eyes stinging with tears as she went. Not caring where she was going or who she ran into. All that mattered was getting away from him. As she ran her thoughts raced, filled with pain
“How? How could I have been so blind and stupid?”
She ran, and ran until her lungs burned, and her heart felt as if it was going to burst. She dropped to her knees and cried. She heard a twig snap, and she knew that it wasn’t him. He never made a sound… something else was behind her now. She turned to face a large man, a heavy sagging scar across his left eye, and he gave a big open toothed grin. “Hey pretty lady.” he said with a sickening glee in his eyes “You know little girls shouldn’t be out in the woods alone. There are bad men who do bad things to cute little girls like you.
She leapt to her feet in an attempt to flee, but he moved with a speed that denied his size and deformities. “Where ya’ goin’ little girl?” he sneered as he spoke “Ya’ gonna give papa a good time, for a long time, till papa gets tired of you, and than papas going to eat you. For real.”
He started to stoop down to kiss her, as his hands began to slide up her front to her breasts, his gnarled and twisted hands, sweaty and foul against the skin of her stomach.
There was a sudden clicking sound, and someone spoke from behind her with a voice soft and smooth, almost like the sound of a finely tuned crystal being struck with precise care and timing, “Now that isn’t very gentlemanly of you.”
“Back off little man,” the deformed one growled, “you don’t know who your messing with.”
“Oh contraire’”, the other replied, “You’re a fiend. A long ways from where you belong, but a fiend non-thee less.
The man stepped back, letting her fall from his grasp for a moment, as the hammer was released, striking the back of the revolver, sending a single bullet flying out, piercing his left shoulder. Two more shots were fired; striking his mid-section and his collarbone respectively. Three more shots were fired, one piercing the man in between his eyes the other blowing out the left side of his chin, and the final striking him squarely in the groin.
The stranger twirled the gun about and holstered it inside his long, dark brown duster, as he tipped his wide round brimmed hat to her “I hope he didn’t disturb you to much.” The stranger said, an accent that was an oddity in itself. “Fiends can be quiet pesky, though they aren’t native to this part of the world. Hmm… I’m not to sure what its here for, but it can’t be good.”
He helped her up, as she explained to him that she was okay now, and she was sorry for him having to waste so many bullets to save her. To which he chuckled in reply and told her that it wasn’t a problem. After all he had been hunting this one for a few weeks now, and that he was just happy he made it in time to save her.
It was than that The Hunter came strolling calmly up. As if nothing had happened, and there hadn’t been numerous gunshots just seconds before. He glanced at the man in the duster and with a nod said “Hello Vincent.”
A simple nod was all the man in the duster gave as a reply. “Feeling better, Kasha?” The Hunter asked quite snidely, “Or are you still not in the mood?”
“I could have been killed you bastard!” she screamed at him, “If it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead!”
To which The Hunter smiled and calmly said that he knew the old man was there. That he could feel that Vincent was there to. “Tell me, did you know what the old man was?” Vincent inquired.
The Hunter nodded in response, “Yes. Just some creep trying to get his kicks.”
Vincent smiled and nodded slowly, “He vas a Fiend, a Shagomin evil spirit, you blunderer. He is a long way from the homeland of the Shagomi, but still he was here. I do not know why.”
“What?” The Hunter gasped in amazement, “But that’s impossible. I thought he was only human, I had a feeling he was. I never felt out anything else. I’m never wrong; you should trust me on this one Vincent. He was only human.”
“That is why I do not trust them.” Vincent mused, “Arrogance breeds error. Arrogance is the mother of error, as vanity is its father. Your exuberant pride makes you a target for mistakes. Your lack of self-restraint regarding your confidence in your own abilities, in an ironic paradox, is both your greatest strength and weakness. The view of your own superiority lends you a type of ego-energy that protects and powers your course of actions. Though it tends to leave you rather reckless and rash, which in turn will be your downfall. I assure you.”
“Listen preacher”, The Hunter hissed out, “I don’t need you to tell me about what I can do, or what I can’t. Fact of the matter is, my power hasn’t been wrong so far. It lead me to her didn’t it? She has the gift. As powerful as I was, before… well that’s not your concern. I kept her around seven years for the sake of protecting her. Predators and prey. She’s the prey, and I have to keep the wolves at bay.”
“Is that all its been?” Kasha spoke, her voice filled with sorrow, but sweet like the soft smell of roses lightly covered with dew “Nothing but your job? Just another task to you, is that what I am? Just protecting me, not actually holding any really feelings for me?”
“Is that a problem?” The Hunter sighed as he spoke, “Maybe it’s been wrong to drag you along for these past seven years, like you really meant something to me. But you have to understand, I had to do something to get you to stay with me. I couldn’t risk you being out there alone with when whatever it is that’s doing this took notice of your power. So I did what I had to. I made you think I loved you. Nothing more than a game.”
As Kasha dropped to her knees in tears, so to did The Hunter go reeling back on his heels, Vincent’s fist planted firmly into the side of his jaw. “You never joke about love!” he angrily spat out his words, as The Hunter reflexively went for his daggers, bringing them up towards Vincent’s throat, at the same time Vincent’s hand flew into his duster, drawing and cocking the hammer of his revolver, lining the barrel up with the tip of The Hunter’s nose.
For a split second The Hunter paused to laugh at Vincent’s predicament “You fired six shots already,” he smiled snidely again, “your out of bullets. Now what?”
“Wrong. My father made this gun,” Vincent said plainly, “Seven chambers.”
The Hunter hesitated for a moment before deciding to call his bluff, to which Vincent simply smiled and said “Go ahead and press your luck, its your funeral, not mine.”
Slowly, and carefully The Hunter sheathed his daggers, and took a slow step back away from Vincent. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Vincent half-joked, half-threatened, as he released the hammer on the revolver and re-holstered it, “Now I want you out of my until we reach the Dancing Boar Inn. Than you come back, and we’ll talk. Until than get lost. We’ll wait there for you, since you’ll most likely go off and kill something. Oh and don’t be late.”
Vincent stooped down to speak softly to Kasha, trying to calm her, and ease the pain of her broken heart. The Hunters face cringed for a moment as he watched Kasha in tears, but it was only there for a second, as Vincent glanced up at him. The Hunter was worried Vincent might have seen it; if he had he knew Vincent would most defiantly get them together. Terribly horrid yet a wonderful idea, after all she would only be hurt so close to him.
“Why? Why did I ever fall for him?” Kasha sobbed to herself, as she tried to withdraw from the world “I’ve been such a fool to think he could ever really love me.”
As if picking up on some hidden signal given away by Kasha, Vincent put a hand on her shoulder, and smiled warmly as he spoke to her of kinder gentler things. Always keeping her pain the center of attention, but always over-shadowed by other things. Keeping her calm and rational as she openly expressed her grief. The Hunter having slipped off to parts unknown at this time…
Chapter II: On the way to the Dancing Boar Inn
Vincent and Kasha walked slowly on towards the Dancing Boar, as she continued to weep to him. Vincent seemed to take in everything she said with a quiet magnitude that would suggest he was much older than he appeared. Vincent took a moment; too assess the situation as it was laid out before him, even so far as Kasha’s entire persona.
She was wearing a tan leather vest, with a faded blue undershirt, tanned breeches with an assortment of daggers lining her belt. She had an aura of betrayal and grief about her; Vincent could tell that she had just had her worst fears confirmed. But he had already begun to formulate what he was going to say to her, what he needed to do to convey the appropriate emotion as the time called for.
“Listen Kasha,” Vincent’s words were soft, almost like a whisper as he spoke. “I know it’s hard to understand. But you see, that is his way. In his own way he does care. He just can’t show it very well. Seven years is a long time to go without caring for someone. Trust me, he cares. You just have to show him a great deal of patience. I know it hurts, and I know it feels as if your whole world is falling apart… but give it time. Time for him to adjust to being open with his feelings. I know it must seem like it will never happen, but trust me it will. You just need to be patient with the buffoon.”
Kasha nodded as she started to sob again, in her heart she knew that crying was the only thing she had left to do. It seemed as if everything else had been stolen from her. Vincent smiled slightly, as he wrapped his arms around her, letting her tears fall into his chest as he knelt down, his arms wrapped around her. They sat there for sometime, him holding her as she sobbed into him, in the middle of the road.
As she cried, Vincent reassured her that it would be all right. That she was much too beautiful to be alone in life. “Long amber hair,” Vincent whispered to Kasha, “Deep sea green eyes, a smile that could warm a room, and enough kindness to melt the heart of an Ice Titan. Even if that badgering fool does not see what you have to offer, I swear another will. One not afraid to show that they care, so take heart… it’ll hurt for awhile, but all pain must eventually give way, if you let it.”
“I know God… I know.” Vincent spoke to himself, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, “I feel it too. Its close, whatever it is its close.”
“Do you feel that?” Kasha asked, as if picking up on some unforeseen force, through some unseen means, “Something isn’t right. Something about that tree does not feel right.”
Vincent turned his head slightly to see the tree she was pointing at, but there was nothing there. Nothing but a powerful aura of darkness, hate and evil that seemed to emanate from a singular point. “Run.” he ordered “Run Kasha, run now!”
Vincent spun around on his heels, drawing from inside his duster a heavy mace, just as Kasha began to sprint the other way, straight into the woods. “Show yourself!” Vincent shouted to nothing, as the aura began to encroach around him, “I haven’t time or care for these petty games! Show yourself, and face me!”
As if reacting to his command a dark swirling mist began to form in front of him, and it took upon the shape of a humanoid at least ten feet tall, a single horn protruding from the center of its forehead. Massive bat-like wings jutted from the back of its purple and festering skin. Its wings were torn, and its skin itself was covered in large black sores, that oozed a deep thick yellow puss that reeked of death and decay. “Holy Mother of Mercy,” Vincent mumbled, “Rash’Garm, the festering of souls.”
“Pathetic Holy Man,” Rash’Garm spoke, its voice like a thousand screams of agony rolled into one deep horrifying tongue of broken common and Hell-Speak, “this world is standing on the edge of an abyss, and my master is close behind. The girl will be mine to give to my master, as your life will be mine to take.”
Rash’Garm thrust out the palm of his left hand, and without even striking Vincent, it sent him sailing backwards, splintering a tree as his spine slammed into it. He let out a choked gasp as he slammed into another tree, sliding to the ground, blood spitting from his lips. “Have to get up,” Vincent kept repeating to himself, “I can’t let it win, not like this.”
“I have won, wretched Holy Man,” the devil whispered in his mind, “I had won long before our confrontation here.”
Vincent spoke swiftly and quietly, a prayer to his God. As his prayer finished, his mace took upon a soft white heavenly glow. Emanating a low hum, the devil’s skin seemed to shimmer and wither from both the sound and the light. “In the name of God,” Vincent choked out, as he staggered to his feet, hurling the mace at the same time, “I shall dispatch you!”
The devil quickly folded a wing down around him, the mace striking it soundly, in a flash of pure light. A tear formed in the devils wing as it jerked back a little. “A worthy effort,” Rash’Garm said respectfully, “but futile.”
Rash’Garm let out a terrible roar as he charged in at Vincent, its left arm forming into a singular jagged spine, “Now you die Holy Man!”
“If you can find me”, Vincent shouted as he pulled a gray orb, that pulsated with magma, from his thick duster, “than you can have me!”
He hurled the orb at Rash’Garm as he turned, and rolled behind a tree. A bright burning flash, more than capable of burning the iris from a person eyes emanated from the orb the moment it came in contact with the ground, creating a flash as bright and hot as the sun that washed over and singed Rash’Garm, causing the beast to let out an unhallowed roar of hate and pain.
The moment the light had subsided Vincent turned on his heels, and cradling his ribs, sprinted through the forest, hoping to put as much distance between him and Rash’Garm. “Got to run” Vincent’s mind raced, as did his feet, “can’t stop. If it catches me I’m a goner.”
It seemed as if a black and oppressive shadow followed close behind him, as if at any moment if he were to turn to see behind him, he would see hell itself smiling back at him.
He barreled through a set of small shrubs, crashing to the ground as he coughed up more blood. “Damn it,” he mused, “I can’t go on… to tired… I suppose this is the end.”
He rolled over onto his back to see behind him, and he was right, Rash’Garm or at least the blackness of it, had already began to take shape behind him. A sinister smile upon its jeering lips as he spoke, “I told you Holy Man, your mine.”
Another voice rang out, being lead by the sound of rolling thunder, like silver bells singing out to the heavens, “Your foul and darkened miasma shall be denied a vassal of the heavens. Prepare to be deported back from wince you came devil!”
Rash’Garm hissed as he snapped his gaze to see this new aggressor, but only caught sight of a flail as it swung down into his face, spiraling him backwards into a tree with a heavy thud.
Rash’Garm leapt from his place against the tree and turning in a circle in the air landed quietly behind them, his wings spread wide as he let his gaze drift upwards to see his new aggressor.
Wearing bright silver armor, polished to a mirror like shine, was this new aggressor. A gyrspike gripped tightly in their hands, a stout wooden shaft adorned with silver and blue symbols, a long sword on one end and a flail on the other.
Rash’Garm lowered his massive bulk near enough to the ground for a pounce, but Vincent, who had regained his footing and had already drawn his revolver, the hammer click having alerted him, to this other threat.
Rash’Garm seemed set in his desire to attack, but without warning or even a hint, he leapt high into the air and his body formed into a blackened mist which drifted away with the wind.
Vincent let out a deep painful sigh, and went limp, falling to the earth like a lead weight. The armored stranger caught him in their arms and Vincent spoke weakly “Its lucky you showed up when you did.”
“It wasn’t luck,” came the reply, “it was the Divine Will. Such encounters are never chance, always pre-ordained by the Divine Will. It was fate I met you this day.”
“Either way good sir, I need to find someone. The one this devil had come seeking to begin with.”
“Sir?” the stranger whispered, removing their helmet to reveal long red hair upon a lightly tanned face, dark blue eyes, and a soft smile parted her beautiful lips, “I think you’re mistaken. I’m no sir.”
Vincent gasped in amazement before composing himself and took the time to explain his situation, as she helped him into her horse’s saddle, due to his previous wounds.
Vincent took a moment to admire the black horse, its mane and tail a pure ivory white. The saddle was ordained in the same silver and blue markings, as was her armor and gyrspike.
“I am Vincent Tilips, Witch-Hunter and Cleric, son of William Tilips the paranormalist.”
“Renora Starlight, Paladin of the Divine Will, daughter of Alexia the Avenger and Martin the Guardian of Taureliloomea Gate.”
They rode for a little over an hour before they came upon Kasha, though something felt wrong. Out of place with the area.
“Do you feel that?” Renora asked in a whisper only audible to Vincent, “Something dark looms in this area. Perhaps the same devil from before?”
“It is.” Vincent nodded in reply, as he loaded the last two rounds into his revolver, “I can feel him.”
Renora whispered a hushed prayer, and her Gyrspike became engulfed in a white and blue flame, that seemed to sing softly.
A horrible hiss was heard from all around, and the voice of Rash’Garm spoke bitterly “I will be back. She will soon belong to my master, as you will all be dead.”
“Let us not linger here any longer.” Vincent said with a deft authority, “We need to get to the Dancing Boar, before the fall of sunset. Come we must hurry.”
Kasha and Renora both readily agreed and they quickly hurried along their way, Vincent insisting on walking, but being steadily refused due to his injuries. It was just as the sun began to set that they reached the Dancing Boar Inn, where they quickly arranged for the horse to be stabled, and lodgings for the night as well.
They decided it would be wiser and safer to share one accommodation. Realizing that there was safety in numbers, they moved into a simple two-bed room.
Vincent insisted on taking the floor, but Kasha quickly convinced Renora that with his injuries it would be a bad idea for him to be on the floor. Kasha would take the floor instead, which is where the problem started, for Renora could not honorably sleep in comfort as another was forced not to. Kasha not wanting to be rude argued that it was okay, to her dismay, could not sway Renora in her decision, and vise versa. After about an hour, at Vincent’s suggestion, it was decided they would share a bed, as Vincent slept in the other.
Once the sleeping arrangements were made it was decided to share the stories of what each of them were doing there and why.
* * * * *
The Hunter quietly crept along, keeping to the brush and shadows. His eyes carefully picking out a fresh, and rather obvious path, that he followed in complete silence.
He picked his way at a tedious pace for well over an hour, before he came upon what he was seeking.
The Grumbler loomed just ahead, dark onyx skin, with an extra mouth where its stomach should be, as it feasted on what appeared to be the remains of a merchant caravan. “This will give me a means to vent,” The Hunter thought to himself, as he drew his daggers, “besides, it isn’t like this beast isn’t causing enough problems as is.”
The Grumbler reached out with a pair of tentacles from its back feeling for more food amongst the wreckage of the wagons. It made a mumbling sound that resembled complaining and whining.
The Hunter wasn’t worried about the effect of listening to a Grumbler, but more so by the sixteen tentacles upon its back, considering two of them could crush stone with ease.
“All I have to do is keep the element of surprise and make my move.”
The Hunter quietly crept out of his hiding place, and suddenly broke into a run, jumping into the air as he unsheathed his daggers, ready to stick them into the Grumbler’s neck.
It was in the next instant did it occur to The Hunter that the Grumbler had been using its psychic feelers to probe him long before he sprung his ambush. The Grumbler lashed out with one of the larger tendrils and slammed The Hunter up and over its head into the pile of wagon parts. His head landing in the squishy intestines of an unidentifiable thing, “I hope this wasn’t someone I knew.” The Hunter said rather seriously.
The Hunter was snapped from his trance as he noticed that the Grumbler was lashing down with both of its large tendrils. He rolled quickly to the side as they smashed down where he had just been. He growled as he leapt to his feet, after rolling past several more strikes “Time to die you lumbering behemoth!”
As he leapt to his feet, he tossed his daggers to the ground hooking both of the larger Tendrils only to realize to late that he had over looked the fact that he was now sailing towards its head with no weapons. He drew back his fist ready to punch it straight in the face, just as its other fourteen tentacles flew up and wrapped around him, trying to force there way down his throat.
He fumbled for his crossbow, and hastily removing it, he fired the bolt at some random point on the creature. The bolt struck it somewhere on its foot, causing it to screech in pain. The Hunter used this one moment to twist out of its grasp and slide down its back. The Grumbler reacted a moment to late, but still managed to tear the crossbow from The Hunters hands.
The Hunter turned on his heels to face the creature, only to find a tendril slapping him in the face, rolling him into a dust ball across the ground. He shook the cobwebs from his head, only to find the Grumbler lumbering towards him with quickness, however clumsy, that seemed to fit its large size. The Hunter rolled to the side narrowly avoiding being stepped on, but didn’t realize it had counted for such a move. It reached down on either side with four tendrils, knowing one was bound to catch its prey. The moment it tightened around The Hunters ankle, it flung him high into the air, spinning him like a helpless doll as he flew threw the air, to smash face first into the ground, dust puffing up around him.
He made a mad dash for his daggers, leaping that last foot or so, clasping his hands around them, just as the Grumbler wrapped itself around his legs. The Grumbler pulled him back so hard that his daggers popped from the ground and flew freely from his grasp.
The creature dangled him upside down, preparing to swallow him whole, through the mouth on its stomach. It swung him forward, his teeth like a gaping maw leading to oblivion. And oblivion was hungry, though it would have to wait for its meal, as The Hunter grasped its tongue and pulling it from its mouth let it snap back in. The beast dropped him as it reeled back in shock.
The Hunter twisted in the air to land on his feet, kicking his heels against the ground, a thick blade extending from both boots as he leapt up in a spinning kick, slitting the beasts throat and slicing its eyes wide open.
The Grumblers thick black blood began spilling all over the ground as it stumbled about bleeding and suffering. This agony only lasted a few moments before it bled out and died. Its body wouldn’t rot for long. Abyssals never do. In a few hours, if it were truly dead, its body would turn to ash and be deposited back in hell. If it were alive, it would begin to regenerate.
The Hunter looked it over for a few moments, and decided that it was most likely dead. He walked slowly on, heading for the Dancing Boar Inn.
“At least that is one more thing less this world has to worry about,” The Hunter mused to himself, “and now I’m in quite the good mood.