Across the fogged dead grass through black twisted branches, the white of death sings her ominous tune. Blood falls from beneath the woollen cloak wandering alone. Against the cutting breeze, Nyla's hand clutches the golden handle of the black blade. Gasping for air, her body falls flat in exhaustion. Crawling forward she still advances north of the world, leaving an ashen trail of blood behind. Bruises, cuts, hunger, even sleep keeps no hold. Looking at the stars, the purple of her eyes shine a tear. Under an anchor of exhaustion she sinks. Hitting the ground, Nyla reaches against the abyss and collapses dead on the snow. - Deep within caves darkness, bear blood stains the ground, attracting noses of insects and wild beasts. After a howling day of sleep, the pack awakens with a hunger equal to the einherjar (Loki's champions). Olcan's dagger is used to take servings large enough for recovering warriors. Placing slabs of meat on large leaves, the three sit to feast. Agnaar looks
Faris is awoken by air splashed out of his lungs by blistering cold water, slapping the nerves like a thousand needles all piercing the skin at once. "Wakey wakey priddy boy."An unusual accent spits out. Fur boots step across grey stone flooring towards a second bucket, lifted and thrown into the opposite cell. The wooden bucket is dropped as the footsteps slowly tap across the darkroom. Dark walls of moss and stone fall into a floor of the same palate. From cells out of sight a humming stale stench of urine and excrement poison the frozen air. Rusted orange hides between jagged flakes of black painted iron bars and gates. Faris watches disheartened as the chuckling and footsteps fade upwards through a wooden creaking staircase into the howling wind. "My Lord."Faris gasps.Faris checks his pockets, realising his wedding gift has been taken but before he can react his eyes widen. In the cell opposite, wearing nothing but her soaked red sleeping dress sits Miya. Her wet face can b
Divided by a beam of light from the small opening, Faris watches Miya have blistering cold water thrown over her again from the opposite cell. "Please stop, why do you keep doing this?"Faris asks, crushing the flaked paint over rusted bars. Tears of anger roll down Faris's cheek. Standing in front arms wide."Whatchu gunn do bout it?"Challenges the scrawny bag of bones. Faris reaches through the bars but his hand falls short. "Come closer!" The guy laughs and goes back up the stairs. Miya is lying on the floor, crying in the puddle, arms wrapped around herself. Faris's brows curve upwards as the fire in his heart has nobody to burn but himself. Miya looks through the bars and softly asks "Please,..tell me something about your wife,..something to distract me from the cold,.. it hurts so much."Barely able to string the sentence together as her body chatters vigorously. "What can I say except that I love her? She is the mother of our child, my friend and the one I'll be with
The 4th Blood Scroll Keeper was no man but a force of nature; as tall as wrestlers, a warrior build and versed in lightning manipulation● Unlike the other mages, Keeper was a strong believer in fusing magic with steel● Mages never feared warriors but mages were never seen as warriors, only cheaters and cowards who hid behind spells● King Vladamir the blooded, commanded a tournament between mages to commemorate his new throne in honour of his priestess Shay● This duel of fates would encompass the mace of Avalanche and for the first time, the arts could be used to prove battle prowess like knights and grant its wielders glory● The mighty King set three rules; •All magic had to be visible for the crowds to see● •No magic was to be used until blood had been drawn● •The competitors would not be allowed to take the fight more than eight stables length away from the mace in any direction● The final duel would be against the king's champion for a glorious climax● The winner would be aw
Another wave of freezing water crashes against shivering Miya as she screams in pain. Faris stands up reaching out the cage against a laughing bandit. His red eyes encircled by darkness and exhaustion still have enough fight in him to spout violent imprecations, but that fight has been worn down over many nights and merciless cold. Thoughts of revenge for the cruel torture, worry over the whereabouts of Axil, worry of Schenade and what she must be feeling, afraid for Veryth and her unborn child, missing Tamara, feeling trapped and angry. "Oh God, make them pay!" - Rohain throws another log on the glowing fire. "Yesterday, you never told me what happened when you climbed back up the stairs."Daniella says as she finishes setting the beds. "I'm tired, we covered a lot of ground today." "Please, it's not fair to end a story half way through." "It's not a story!It's my life. Everyday I can hear it, I see it when I close my eyes. I wasn't born this way."Rohain says clenching his
"King Dolkan at your service. You look terrible, but you are still bigger than I expected. You know, it's customary to bow before a king." "Not for me."Faris says with absolute conviction. Dolkan smirks, takes the watchman's stool and sits upon it crossing his arm over the back rest. "I am here to get you out but first I would like to chat."Dolkan says, scratching his brow with a pointed thumb nail. Faris raises his head as sounds of terror continue to echo through the night. "I never came alone."Dolkan smiles. Faris looks at his visitor, and glances at the corpse lay in its own blood. Reaching out between the bars, Dolkan hands Faris his pocket watch and nods."You may see me as a monster, having witnessed my abilities, but I assure you, they were the real monsters. How long had they had this lady lay here freezing cold without a blanket? I heard them laughing at how they threw cold water on her frequently just to see your pain. They are not dogs, not animals, they are far w
The 6th Blood Scroll After the War of the Gods had finally come to an end, a truce was scribed over corpses of armies between King Vladimir and the Dragon clan under a red moon● King Vladamir had managed to lead his kingdom to victory but at great cost● The blood army had withered to barely under two thousand, not enough to defend against the surrounding kingdoms should they form an alliance● The great kingdom had been taken by force, burning many flags that tied beyond● General Vatalis proposed a deal with the Dragon clan, one that would shift the world's fate● The King had arranged a meeting to claim his token of victory, a tradition usually recompensed by treasure, weapons or a crown● People called the Dragon clan gods, for they had technology from beyond the stars but the King knew weapons do not win wars, soldiers do● King Vladamir the victor wanted an army more powerful than his enemies could ever assemble, an army of immortals● The Dragon clan had renounced their ways of my
Footprints echo through endless snow covered trees of an ancient forest. Scanning the grey sky, Danielle pets Phantom as Rohain guides the way through. The path's narrow end fades below snow and still leaves. The grey dims yellow beneath the clouds yet barely a word had been spoken. "Do you..." "No." He replies. "You don't even.." "I do.." Rohain turns."...you were going to ask me another question or insist on playing another game, I told you I'd only play once on the promise you would not ask me again." "But I'm bored! Conversation with you is all précis without a skeric of scone." Rohain turns his head. Even through the dark eye holes of his helmet Daniella can feel the hard stare. "Everytime I wish to make a conversation you simply reply with something like yes, no or be awfully dismissive." " I don't." "See! For you maybe it's easy to just be in the world all by yourself and not mind the quite, but I can not bear it." "Look, the more we talk, the more likely we are to
Authors note:I apologize for the condition of this chapter, I reposted my previous chapter by mistake and I could not delete it so here is a draft of this chapter that I am still working on. I hate posting work in this state but I would rather you read this than pay to re read the last chapter. Sorry.#########By all accounts, the blood thirst is painful• It hums until it roars, driving the afflicted into a blood-lust madness• Even while satiated, the smell of blood or even the very sound of a beating heart can unleash the feral rage without warning• Soldiers would often leave defensive positions and break formations to sink their teeth into the red fog of war• It took no time to concede the futility of mortal tactics while no longer gravitated by injury and death• The soldier's swing carried impossible force, they moved like gusts of wind and every wound healed as fast as it was inflicted• You would think the blood army were angels by their astonishing beauty if not for the horrors
The night is cast over the stone crown, and the burning glow of Faris's blood-fueled eyes is concealed beneath dark lenses. Unwanting to be seen, Faris moves through the shadows of the oil lamps, his steps sinking into the damp dust, pine, rotting food, berries, and perfume that have soaked the fogged air like dye. Everywhere he goes, he's met with the stench of footsteps, sharp breath, mumbles of madness, and the people around him appear more like carcasses ready for consumption, drawing out demons like thorns draw blood. Faris's thoughts are filled with the faces of his daughter, his best friend, his wife and above all, Veryth and her unborn child dulling the sharp edge of thirst that stabs from every direction. As he gets closer to his target, the Nakhflay camp, the smooth flow of his steps slows, and he is filled with dread. He has experienced opening doors into rooms he wished not to be, and crossing lines he wished he never had but the camp just seems like it's too much to face.
The harp of morn serenaded a sleeping camp of silver warriors. Through frosted nights the hunters moved, unknowing of what pursued them by day. Vampire killers - The Legion of Dawn as they were known, armoured and well prepared for all creatures of magic and darkness but, young Dolkan, was human. Ambition, pride, power, a promise. Proving himself worthy of the dark gift and a worthy successor to the throne, he took an oath to destroy the greatest threat to the immortal kingdom. Black oak tablets lay the perimeter like dominoes carved with runes of protection, impossible for vampires, wraiths or ghouls to cross. No mortal would dare attack a camp of well-trained soldiers with nothing but steel to gain. The tiger is hunted not for its fur but for its claws, but, The Legion of Dawn were no mere tigers. Of the nine tents facing the fire, eight lay occupied. Day watch makes his circles atop the mount with vigilance and poise, taking no second for rest. Heavily armoured, armed with a mace
Veryth is awoken from a dream of happyness by the song of rain echoing through harsh frost. Dreaming of her husbands warm arms, only to find Schenade has crawled into her bed again. Finally asleep after another late night, this is the only time Veryth does not need to hide her tears. - The darkness of home would be navigated with cautious strides to the lamps usually but even the darkest of corners appeared shaded in light. Water hissed in his ears and every droplet seemed to have its place as it ran red through his hold sharp fingers. Catching the icy water in his palm he gargles and throws the cold against his face, closing his eyes to flashbacks of failure, fear and blood. Taking his Miswaak(toothbrush) and openining his mouth he stands opposite his reflection - his reflection stares back judging and scolding. Burning eyes of bright amber stood a stark contrast to his ashen skin and black dishevelled hair, sharpened teeth as long as his nails; a far cry from the face his wife knew
By the roaring fire, Daniella and Rohain laugh over roasted rabbit and black coffee. "I've never seen a helmet have the faceplate lock forward before. It is rather clever." "Eating alone is not always an option. You learn to adapt." "You know, people will not judge you for breaking an oath you made voluntarily." "People always judge others, especially by their appearance." "Are you concerned people will judge you if you are ugly?" "No." Rohain leans in. "As you get older, you will notice how people become more interested in how you look than who you are." "People are so callous in reflection of my guise?" Daniella sighs. "It's human nature to judge by the apparent. People are judged so radically for their appearance despite it being the one thing about ourselves we control the least. Being pretty can be a curse just as much as disfigurement." "Why is the human race... ...so dogmatic?" Daniella questions, trying to hide a world of pain. "Most people are shallow, vile mons
"Think I should get a piercing or a tattoo?" Daniella asks. Rohain turns to face her, even through his helmet an expression of confusion and exclamation show through. "Too much?" "Why would you do such a thing?" Rohain asks as he dismounts Phantom. "I don't know, just to feel different I suppose. Something to represent all of this. A memento if you will." Rohain helps Daniella down. "Your hand is not enough?" Daniella looks at her bandage, turning her hand. "I want something that I have chosen, on my terms." "You do not need a reminder to represent hardship or triumph. The things that matter most, we carry in here." Rohain says while tapping his heart. "Are you sure you want to set up camp here? We are close." "They are forbidden from opening the city gates after nightfall." Phantom watches as Daniella pulls the wood bunch and lays it down before making a circle of rocks to set the fire. Rohain lays out the under-sheet and pegs it down. "Hand me those will you?" Daniel
Coughs of hopelessness echo through the frosted darkness, hanging chains, aged bars and the stench of rot sinking through the opening of a large metal box. Candles glow the sound of a quill scraping final thoughts into unrolled paper... Dear Veryth,As I write to you now, I fear you will never hear my last words. All I have ever known from you is love and care, trust and paitence. Everyday with you has been a blessing I have never diserved but have always needed. Closing my eyes your smile is all that keeps me sane in this madness. I know not if I will ever see you again or if you could ever forgive me for dying without saying goodbye as much as it hurts. I'm not much of a writer, never have been so do not look upon my simple words without understanding the love and sorrow between the lines.I don't know how long they have kept me here, I just know it's cold, dark and silent at all times. After all these years, we are finally expecting a baby but fate can be cruel. What once was my gr
The 1st Blood scroll My name is Hafidh● Anointed the personal scribe of Lord Vladimir● A better honour than a prisoner, a better title than a slave, tasked with documenting history as I witness it for purpose of glory and warning● My upbringing was nothing extraordinary; a father addicted to working long hours, a mother of poor health and a brother to call "friend"● My education was torn short by corruption for when my brother opposed, he was banished from the academy and I chose to follow my loyalties● The wheel of time turned my early years into a simple working man like a father with less ambition than prospects while my brother found his own path● I lived most of my life with a gaze as low as the sunken sun until eventually I saw the elite, stars, and realised the world had far more to offer than I ever claimed● It was not easy to realise the shade I had become but harsh words from wise men awoke me from the slumber of a relinquished state of mind● Dreaming of being a renowned w
The 3rd Blood Scroll Bells rang through the city as the ashes of war began to settle like snow● The siege finally ended after enough blood flowed to fill the former king's skull with fear and remorse● Citizens were still collecting arrows, extinguishing fires and burying the dead as the conqueror came to claim his new crown● Parading through the city streets, his towering shadow cast dismay and awe by all sanctified to behold● Stench of charred flesh, grit of the poisoned throats, whimpers of hunger and rattling of prison bonds - Vladimir knew his subjects were in no condition to commemorate their liberation● No doubt the former king was discriminatory, a tyrant whose only claim to the throne was being the sole heir to a king who cared more about the topics of his goblet than the plate's of his people● Taxes kept the kingdom sunken in deficiency while the defeated king had indulged in exotic fruits and low association● Those educated in the ways of magic were clawed from society as w