Monday, May 16, 2016

Blood Runs Thin (Original Series)

Marcus Johansen was the leader of the House of Roue, the most powerful human alive, but he cowered in the corner of his panic room, staring at the monitors that quietly screeched static at him. The room shook with each pounding explosion, shaking loose dirt and debris from untold nooks and crannies. Panic threatened to overwhelm him as his breathing was rapid and ragged, his heartbeat pounded in his ears. Another pounding came, a monitor shook loose and crashed to the floor. He shrieked, and clutched at himself tighter and tighter, terrified at the things at his doorstep. 

Silence finally fell, even the gentle hum of gunfire was gone, something he only just noticed. Slowly the dignitary stood, his back still pressed to the wall, his eyes locked on the solid steel door. He prayed they had relented or had perished, prayed whatever was out there causing chaos and destroying his home were gone. He felt hope well up in him, maybe he was safe. The whole house shook again, metal from the door groaned and creaked. Terror took the sounds from him before he could make them.

The door deformed, degree by degree, inch by inch, pieces that were welded shut popped open, rivets sprang out. All he could do was watch in abject horror as his last line of security finally screamed a metallic cry and was wrenched from the frame outwards. The human leader felt his bladder let loose its contents as his eyes made out two figures in the dusty hole in the wall; one massive, one much smaller, but seemingly much more lethal. A voice slithered through the wreckage, dark and violent, "Marcus Johansen, Leader of the House of Roue, your presence is requested." 

The human tried to answer, but his voice was still locked from sheer and utter terror. The giant shadow remained in darkness, but the smaller one stepped through the frame, a vision out of a nightmare. Eyes glowing red, skin beyond pale with ribbons of purple and black veins, fingers longer than any humans, clothes tattered from fire and bullets, and awash in blood, it dripped from long fangs and claws. The crimson liquid made small trails in the dust and debris as the vampire walked forward. "Forgive my rudeness. I'm Michael, that's Raecien. And you will be coming with us."

As Michael got closer to Marcus the human could feel his world go dark, his vision narrowed, and finally his breath sigh out as he fainted. For a long time the world was darkness with flashes of the outside world making it's way through the fog. He caught a glimpse of his home, torn asunder, pure, white walls now stained red with blood and viscera, a man begged for his life only to have his skull crushed, his brains adding to the gore, a car, and finally large glass windows. He slept for a time, the horror of the world gone, for now.

Marcus knew he was upside down, knew he was swaying, but he couldn't figure out why. A soft, gentle, almost musical voice cooed to him, "Marcus. It's time to wake up. Oh, Marcus." Finally the human opened his burning eyes and saw the vampire with the purple eyes, his shoulder length black hair, and chiseled, perfect features. "Oh dear God. I'm going to die, aren't I? You're going to kill me!" There were more words, but they all became a mess of blubbering. Michael smiled at him, almost sweetly, "No, Marcus, no. You'll live a long and happy life, as long as you help us." 

The human sobbed, but tried to ask how, the vampire answered the question, "You're going to tell me where to get as much gold as I can. All the gold to fund an army. And if you do that, you'll live." Marcus' blubbering had slowed enough to speak, "You promise me you won't kill me. I'll tell you how and where to get everything you need." Michaels hand rested on his ribs gently and the swaying stopped, "I promise." The leader of the house of Roue extended his hand, it shook as it waited confirmation from his captor. The vampire's hand was like ice, but they shook on the deal.

The giant wolf that was with him at the house appeared and dropped Marcus down gently as he sobbed his thanks. It took hours for all the information to be conveyed, all the layouts of safe houses, all the caches of personal wealth, every ounce of gold accounted for. After the plan was concocted Raecien was silent as he escorted the human to a small room with no windows, the door locked behind their human guest. Mixed feelings ran through him as he thought about his betrayal. He had bought his way to life with the money and lives of others. He dismissed the entire thing and slept.

It felt like days, but he doubted it had been that long, he was fed a few times, so that was no successful measure of time. Then the door opened and Michael entered, "Well, my dear friend. Everything was successful. We have the gold, we will raise an army soon. And I just wanted to thank you, personally, for all you've done. But our friendship is at an end, and I'm afraid you must be added to the list of casualties." Panic flooded through the human, "But...but you said you wouldn't kill me!" The vampire had stood and was nearly at the door before he turned back, "I did. And I'm not."

Raecien replaced the small, thin, vampire. All words had left Marcus and he could only repeat 'Oh, dear God!' Over and over, as he watched the wolf change into something even more frightening than his already gigantic stature. Before long the giant wolf was just that: A giant wolf. It loomed over him, his steps thudded in the quiet room, drowning out the prayers. It roared a triumphant call. The last thing Marcus heard was his skull being crushed between the massive jaws of the beast as his scream echoed.

Saturday, February 20, 2016

An Immortals Tale (Original Series)

An Immortals Tale
The March to Heaven
"Long Boring Excuses"

"Hey!" Jon called after the girl, but she picked up her pace, repeating something the immortal couldn't hear. As she further distanced herself from him he tried to give chase, but it was obvious his body was not ready for that kind of exertion, just yet. Three shuffling steps and one more 'Hey!' Was all he could get out before he collapsed, face first into the harsh and unforgiving pavement. As he laid there he could finally take tally of all the broken bones and other oozing wounds that decorated his body. Just like his chase, it was short and he succumbed to unconsciousness.

After some time he was aware that his body was being moved, but could do nothing about it. He was also aware of a few voices muttering about help, another advising to just let him die. Then the dreams began. Horrid and bloody, his city covered in smoke and ash, the sky above in flames as the angels battled their own and every other kind of creature. The people around him, not running and screaming and seeking  shelter, were staring at the war above them, in either horror or disbelief. Jon screamed at them to run as bolts of blue and gold lightning fell to earth, ripping the world asunder, tearing the people to streams of blood and gore. They didn't hear him.

His face was hit with the remains of a person, and he gasped awake, trying to sit up, but unable. As Jon tried to slow his breathing he took stock of where he was. Leather straps over his chest, hips, and legs held him tight to a small cot. Iron cuffs bit into his wrists, separating his powers from him. Gray concrete walls held no windows or decorations, save for a few decaying posters of a tv show about zombies that had ended years ago. A few fluorescent lamps hung close to the ceiling gave the room, and apparently his naked body, a bluish glow. Though his throat was hoarse and dry, he worked up enough saliva to croak out a "Hello?"

In a room nearby something got dropped and two voices played through the doorway that was put of Jons view.
"Oh, my! He's awake!"
"Yes, Marea, he is."
"Aw, and now he knows my name!"
"Yes, Marea, he does. You can't lie to a paladin, anyways, so it'd be pointless to try."
"Well, I wasn't gonna."
"Of course not, dear."

Jon was more than confused, but was trying to be friendly. He was, of course, at the disadvantage, "Uh. My name is Jon.'d be very nice to meet...You. If that's alright." He even smiled after he said it, hoping to add to the friendly demeanor. The voice not belonging to Marea spoke above his head, "Do you know who we are?" Jon tried to twist his head to get a look at the woman, but couldn't, "I'm guessing... Attuned. Seeing how they always exist in twos."

"Very good, Paladin. You-" "Jon. My name is Jon. I'm a paladin, but, my name is just Jon." it took a moment for the woman to continue, "Okay, Jon, cut the bullsh-" "I'm sorry. I didn't get your name." "Uh. Saena." Jon was holding out that the Attuned were as sensitive to the needs of others as he'd heard, "Saena. I like that. Listen, if you could please untie me I-" "Oh, we'll be doing nothing of the sort. You were in league with those other Angels." The restrained immortal tried to figure out which ones, "You're gonna have to be a little more specific. I'm in contact with a lot of angels."

Finally the woman to whom the voice belonged to stepped into his line of sight, "The ones that turned you into what you are now, Jon. Those monstrosities." Jon mimicked a nod as best he could, "Those guys. Yeah. They're all gone, now." He studied her, short, medium build, long hair, almost to the back of her legs, and tanned skin. Bright green eyes peered out from under her dark brow and ebony hair, seeking the lie in his voice. The immortals patience was beginning to wear thin with the two women.

He took a long breath and let it out, and was about to begin his story "Yes, I was involved with the Seraphs, but I-" "I believe you. But I'm not cutting you loose, just yet. I've got to get word from the proper authorities." Jon felt a cold worry begin to grow in his stomach, "Wait. What do you mean 'proper authorities'?" It was her turn to explain, but it was her turn to be interrupted, the door was knocked on. "Whatever you're about to say would probably be a list of long, boring excuses and I'd rather not hear it. I called the church."

Worry turned to panic as the other woman came from beyond his vision to answer the door, dry washing her hands as she went, "Oh. I hope it's the men here to clear up what's going on. Does anyone smell frankincense?" Her hand touched the handle as Jon screamed out, recognizing the scent, "Don't open the door!" But it was already done. Two preachers with silver crosses and beads around their necks walked in, looking directly at Jon, reaching into their robes as he screamed again, "They're Spriggan! RUN!"