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 Reviving the Old One

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Damon Eros

Damon Eros

Posts : 60
Join date : 2018-06-26

Reviving the Old One Empty
PostSubject: Reviving the Old One   Reviving the Old One EmptyTue Jul 10, 2018 3:25 am

The rain fell from the sky in a steady haze, all night. It was one of those nights that just made you wonder what the hell you did to the gods. Punishment? Perhaps just a gloomy drizzle that made you sit and think about the past, something he tried not to do. The past had a way of coming back, haunting you, or just rearing its ugly mug and bitting you in the ass. Images splayed on his mind and he would soon wake up at dawn, his body shaking from the feeling that racked through him. Something had come, and this time it was not something that would easily be kept from the people of this town. He had been here for awhile now, another warrior lost on the road. You had away of moving around when your life did not end or did not age like those around you, people asked to many questions, and somethings you had no answer to give them. Least of all ones they wanted to hear, and that was his life. Moving every so often to keep such questions from raising flags of those that would be very uncomfortable knowing you were there, or those hunting your kind. He had been here years, the area, not the town, he had recently came here as his adventures often brought him back on the road.

Van, would sigh as he sat up in bed a feeling would pulse through him, a veil had been broken through. He was sensitive to this process as he was a Half Demon of the Veiros Clan. He donned his pants over his shorts and would walk to the door, grabbing his shirt, and boots, donning the latter as he would reach the door to the outside. Lacing the bootlaces he would then rise up and slip his shirt over his well toned form, chest rising and falling with each breath. Throwing on his trench, he would walk out into the dawning day, the clouds overcast seemed to give the normal blush of the fading night a dirty hue. As if something had said this day would not be perfect, your fates taking their roles in mischief and mayhem. And truth was, he felt that tear in the veil, it was like that one itch that happened where you could not reach, made the hair on the back of your neck rise up and do the jig. Soon he would hear the calls of innocents as their life was consumed by those from another plane. His breath and heart quickened in his chest as he would rush towards a place he would never expect even the darkest of creatures to raze.

Footsteps would guide him towards the doorway of the Orphanage, a sanctuary of the lost, forgotten, and war torn children. A place he had seen funded, brought children to, and now and then fixed thing for the women that guided these souls into strong, freindly, members of town. Many had passed through these doors over the many years he had seen this place become a one time Manor of a tyrant lord, into a bastion of the future flames of this world. He felt them inside, searching, howling, destroying things in their way. Van would sweep into the area, with a look that soon became as deadly as the foes he faced. Two of them were clawing and feeding from the two widowers that ran the Orphanage. Their hairless bodies resembled wolves, the size of bears, tails boney and spiked at the end, those spikes would ooze something dark, toxic, smelly. In all his time within the Abyss, he had come to hate these 'cousins', more then anything. Van would growl, as the largest would raise its head, maw dripping with viscera and flesh. Red painted it like some sinister painters verion of hells torments. Soon it would be followed by the second, and both growled with a distaste he himself felt to them. Well, it was nothing he could do for the women, he would morn them later, for they deserved it. Now was the time Van switched from his akward guise, into the instrument of death he had become over his long life. Much diversity, time, and vigourous routine had sharpened him to a point he was death.

The big male would find himself the first one to meet this dance Van offered, and strode to him arrogantly padding around like he was going to sweep this man aside and continue their macabre feast. It would Howl, the way all did, and he would brace hands on his ears, thanking gods that the kids where ever they be would not hear it. Nightmares were said to be inspired by those howls, haunting mortals and immortals both. Van would withdraw his blade in a single fluid motion that would snap the blade out and ready. A reverberating wave of force would follow, tearing into the hide of the ugly creature as it would yelp in suprise. Ionics on a sonic level was rare, the vibrations causing a slight disturbance in the liquid in the inner ear of the creature causing vertigo aswell as the slicing force. Another flourish of the blade and he would shear off more of its hide, causing it to back away. Van assessed the situation, and would center his weight onto his formost placed foot, his left, and would begin to smirk. Memberiness was something that got you killed in battle, no matter if you were some ledgend of the Realms, and this smirk shared nothing of that. Instead it was just a sureness that filled him about his moves. No he was not cocky, he was set in the mind of killing these things and protecting those of this house. He flowed into the first move, bluejay chases cat from nest, a blow that began with a diving drive of his bladetip, into a pestering assortment of slices designed to aggrivate the Beast into moving. Hairless and bloody the beast would drive forward into a snarling bite and claw form, those giant pads and claws reaching to rake across him from hip down. The bite centered for the sternum. Snapping shut those jaws would barely miss sinking those dagger sharp teeth into him.

His other hand would soon strike out, lightning speed would guide it to the beasts neck, snapping the cartlige and bone within its neck. Such a gut wrenching sound would fill the air at this sound, and the beasts last yip was heard. Or so he thought, as it soon would rise and neck crackled as bones came back into place. He cursed at this, and would soon have both of them snapping for him. Van would be quick he would kick one with a roundhouse, and hand gripped the others neck as it jumped to him and slammed him into the wall hard. His breath would leave him as the beasts feet would claw at him, luckily his trench would keep those putrid claws from scratching him with their disease inducing poison. It tore into the leather looking material down to the metal plates that were within. Those sharp claws would be a pain, he would throw the beast off him and with a slice of his sword, beheaded its smaller partner, the killing blow sucking the unnatural life from it into the crystal blade. Glowing now with a soft ugly shimmer, as if a haze of sun filtered through the cloudy sky. Sickening the sword would ring with a dull chime from such unworthy meal, feasting this weapon however did not complain to the weilder with words. Sentient swords were pains in the ass, his more so. Candor was a katana living in ways and inorganic in others. Dead now the smaller would fall as the bigger and torn up one got up and again howled, the worse thing was more howls would come. So they were searching, he only hoped the children were safe in rooms and that whomever watched them now was safe.

As the Leader would slowly circle him now cautious of this being that took its brother, a crash would come as one came through a wall, its head and front of body latching onto Vans arm, and teeth sank into the trench, and stopped only on the metal and crystal sheets embedded into it. Still a few would scratch his forearm and yank his sword arm, freeing the leader and another that bounded down the stairs to leap for his throat and waist. His foot would again flash out, catching the smaller of them and sending it flying as his powerful strike struck, and the other hand would grip his second sword and pin the leader to the all through the scruff of its neck. Pulling the one on his arm through the wall he would growl, the blood loss, the poison flowing now through his form, his natural instinct all would come together in a feral explosion. His hand would extend and a bolt of Negative energy would flow from his hand in a sickening display, tendrils of energy that was voiding in powers washed over this being and everything it touched would be washed from the material plane and all others. Eyes blue and soft, would soon glow with an inner power as his natures clashed. Soon he would slam his negative energy into the full beast, washing it from the planes forever. Free now he would turn to the one he had thrown into the banister of the stairs and would grip it, tearing it in half and draining the unnatural energy into his form. It was a sickening taste and feeling that wracked him long enough for the other to get up and rush him, throwing his sword into it, the blade would pin the beast to the frontdoor and steal the energy.

Now all that remained was the leader and another, he felt it close by. But he heard something, walking within the house and it was getting near.....
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