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Chapter 1 of the story I am writing. |
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Savior
The moanings of prisoners echoed down the hall, bouncing wildely off the damp, dark, slimy walls. Oarnge and yellow light danced on the stone, for dark, cast-iron torches dotted the walls every few feet. The stoned floors were stained by blood and muck of many years. The prison seemed to exhale death and decay, vibrating with terrified screams. Men, women, children, both humans and creatures filled the many cells. Some reached through the bars, crying for mercy, or grasped the emaciated, filthy hands of relatives or friends in neighboring cells, crying together. Others grabbed the bars and shook them violently, screaming at thier captors. Yet others sat huddled in thier rags, thier eyes clouded with defeat, wishing for death to come at last. The clomping of heavy metal boots slapping against the stones rang through the halls, accompianied by the clanking of chains. A heavy wooden door crashed open at one end of the hallway. The prisoners who still had fight left in them grabbed at the scrawny man that two, heavy-set gaurds dragged along the stone to the opposite end of the hallway. They knew that the prisoners who went through that door, never came back. The scarred, flithy arms, clothes in little more than strips of tattered rags, scrambled against the bars, grabbing at the guards' feet, trying to grab the struggling man. The small, scrawny, emaciated man was covered in grime and blood, old and fresh. He wore no shirt, and blood slowly flowed down his back, and onto the ground from two deep gashes on either side of his spine. They looked like surgical cuts, like he had once had a pair of wings and someone had cut them off. His tear-stained face was contorted with fear, as he screamed, kicked, thrashed, and attempted to sink three-inch-long fangs into the wrists of his gaurds. Chains dangled froms his wrists, ankles, and neck. His bare, flailing feet smacked against the cold stone. The two gaurds wore silver and gold chains. Thier sweeping black cloaks flew behind them as they stormed down the hall. An onyx-black broach in the shape of a skull fastned the cloak on thier right shoulders. Thier metal caps where topped by a row of sharp, pointed teeth, making a cross pattern, the crosses center the same as the center of ther top of thier hat. Thier muscular legs were clad in a reptillian-leather-like material, and thier tunics were made of heavy brown material. Shining metal was attached to the tunics by special leather straps. They both had similar features; dark, beady eyes, long, hooked noses, and cruel, twisted mouths. Thier foreheads were wide under thier long, dark locks of hair. They sneered as they kicked thier steel boots out at the waving arms of the caged-in prisoners. One even spat in the face of a young, furry man with big, fluffy black fox ears and clever, fierce oarange eyes. The prisoner screamed in some rough language. He began to sob as they neared the door. "Shut it, vampire. Your savior won't come to you in time." they laughed. The man, or vampire, slumped, his breathing ragged. The two gaurds laughed at the vampire's resolve to die. The infamous Rider would not come to save this scum that crowded the cells. The people's hero hadn't been heard of for many a week. It happened when the left gaurd placed his gloved hand on the door handle. BOOM!!! The door was blasted off its hinges, smacking the gaurds with chunks of decaying wood. The rolled out of the way, clutching at cuts on thier faces and arms. They stared in horror and disbeleif at the portal, framing a tall, hooded figure. The hooded figure wore little armor; little more than a few cut-outs of leather sewn to his tunic and breeches. His hooded cape was long, fastned under his neck with a symbol of two snakes; one black with a white eye, the other white with a black eye. The snakes were coiled around each other, thier slim, clever heads the center of the spiral. The snakes eyes seemed to be alive, and if you looked long enough, the eyes seemed to follow you.... even though there was no pupil. Heavy chains decorated the hooded man's side. One of his sleeves fell way past the hand. This arm was strapped to his body with a thick length of leather that buckled together. His hood was pulled so low, only his mouth was visable. Thick, crimson blood dribbled down his chin, from two fangs that protruded slightly over his bottom lip. Locks of snow-white hair peeked out of his hood. On his back were two, enormous wings. If they were open, they would have spanned at least twenty feet. They were soft and feathery, and the deep, jet-black of a raven. So glossy the feathers looked tinged with blue. The prisoner on the ground had lain flat on the floor, as though warned of the exploding door, and now flipped over, coming to his knees. He crawled forward, flinging himself with happy tears at the strangers feet. Without any restraint, he cried into the leg of the stranger as he cried the same word over and over in that harsh language, which could only be some form of thanks, as he grabbed at the hooded man's cloak. All along the hallway, prisoners were reaching out of thier cells, yelling excitedly, mirroring the chained vampires cries of gratitude. Even those that had long ago lost hope, now clung to the bars, dazed smiles lopsided on thier lips. The gaurds looked around, angry and fearful. They leapt up, drawing swords, almost heasitantly. They knew how this man was. In some part of them, they knew they were dead. "B...by.... By the o-o-order of L....Lord Dondriku.... I... I am under obligation to have you arrested." One of the gaurds stuttered. The pair of men stared nervously at the hooded man. Since he had walked in the door, the man had not made another move, had not made a single sound. He stood there, supposedly looking at the gaurds. The gaurds took a fearful step back, and a string of events followed quite suddenly. The chained vampire leapt back, cowering against the wall. There was a staticy, crackling sound, and a bright flash of light, like lightining. In the man's hand, appeared an eight-foot-long, three-feet-wide sword. The sword had to have weighed hundreds of pounds, but with the way the hooded man shifted it into a ready stance, and held it one-handed, it could have weighed less than five pounds. The man lowered, leaning forward slightly, and swung his sword through the air, so that it came to rest on his shoulder. The gaurds didn't see what happened next. The man moved so fast, little more than the blur of his sword sould be seen, as the second after he pushed forward, he appeared behind the men. For a few seconds, the men looked at each other, then looked back at the hooded man. Thier looks turned to suprise, as blood suddenly gushed from thier throat, where a thick, deep gash appeared. They sunk, attempting to staunch the bleeding, but died in seconds, laying in a deep pool of thier blood. The hooded man straightened slolwy, and swung his sword down, jerking it slightly so that the blood was thrown off. The sword disappeared the smae as it came, and the hooded man turned to the prisoners. The grimy, starving, beaten people and creatures went wild, cheering loudly. They roared with happiness and thier faces were wet with tears of joy. The stranger reached up with both hands, and slowly pulled off his hood. His eyes were were a deep maroon; fierce and full of anger. Something lay under that cold fury, but it was hard to tell what it was. There was something graceful and royal about his pale face. He had high, thin eyebrows. His nose was thin, and delicately shaped. His cheeck bones were proud, and even under his glare, somehow seemed to hide a smile under the years of anger that showed in his eyes and mouth. His ears were long, and slightly pointed. His lips were thin, and stained with fresh blood. Two ivory fangs peeked over his bottom lip, the tips covered by blood. He had a faint scar on his cheeck, remnant of some long-ago battle. His hair was snow-white, falling about his face, down to his shoulders in tatty layers. Faint stubble could be seen around his chin. He raised his hand, and pointed at the lock of the nearest cage. The heavy metal contraption began to bubble, and a slight hissing noise could be heard. The lock began to melt, great globs of molten metal plopping onto the ground. The prisoners nearest the cage slammed the door open as soon as they could, and rushed forward, all of them scrabbling to touch some part of thier savior; of the man who had come to save them. He brushed them off, and they seemed to draw back, as though he had spoken to them to move away. They all bowed low to the ground as he headed through the door opposite the one he came through. Without his touch, the door was blasted off it's hinges. He disapeaered through the dark hole, and the prisoners began to chatter excitedly. Those still behind the bars called out in indignation, calling for thier fellows to let them out. Those who had been freed moved to the bars, nad began to undo bolts, or cast charms with what power they had left on the locks.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
In the next hall, the stranger flexed his gloved hands, glancing around nervously, as though he sensed something. His eyes darted from side to side. The stranger stopped, looking down the hall that branched off the one he was in. Something was dark down there. Litteraly. More a feeling than actual vision, the end of the hallway was dripped in shadow, darkness, and evil. You could almost see a massive, suffocating layer of darkness, bearing down on you, feeding on your fears, and your darkest thoughts. The electricity in the air crackeled again, and the man gripped his sword, almost with apprehension as he stared at the invisable shadow. Once again, he made his way into the unknown, like he had all his life. Don't hesitate. Don't stop to think. Go. Run. Keep going, allways keep moving. It had always been that way for him. One boot, next boot, first boot, next boot. One step two step.... He coutned his steps, trying to distract himself from the uncontrollable fear that the dark arua instilled in him. He knew this presence well, had felt it many times before. He realized he was holding his breath, and let it out. He shook his head, as though the shadow was seeping into his mind. His pulse and his heart beat faster and faster, as these thoughts entered his head. Adrenaline beat through his veins as he reached out a gloved hand, and lay it one the door handle. His heart stopped beating so quickly. The man looked at the door. He could feel some evil radiating from the other side, something old, soemthing powerful. The man seemed to tense, as he pushed open the door, softly..... quietly...... slowly...... He poked his head around the edge of the door, his sword at the ready. He seemed to strain his ears, his deep maroon eyes scanning the complete darkness. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.......... "Know that the-" "-others are coming." The man glared around the empty, dark room at the voices that seemed to come from his head. The same voices had been bothering him for weeks, like some oracle warning of some great event about to unfold. The man had had enough of that orcale-fate hocus pocus..... He stepped inside, cautiously, looking for any sign of light or life. Hissssss....... The man turned in suprise, looking for the source of the noise. A door appeared, a little ahead of him. The door was made of heavy, dark wood. It was frammed with a faint, glowing, white light. Cautiously, the man stepped forward, and again placed his hand on the handle. His face took a look of suprise, power emanated from the handle, pulsing through his whole body. This is it..... he thought. He realized he was holding his breath once more, and let out a long sigh, and hardened his face again. He pushed the door open. "Raga...." "Be careful..." The light from inside the room hit him in the face as the voices pounded against his skull, warning him to go back. Raga stepped inside, and the door slammed shut behind him.
Scooby-Doo-illa · Wed Jul 30, 2008 @ 10:06pm · 0 Comments |
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