Book 1: The Dragon’s Disease. I.E. if an encounter with a dragon leaves you alive but injured, God will save you, but the dragon has marked you and now it slowly changes you’re body, You will have flesh that is pure, but evil thoughts. You cannot die but in flames, which is how a dragon is born and dies, God will contend for you’re soul by sending his angels to shape you also. Because when a dragon attacks you, it is SATAN, he has directly harmed you and the rules have now been broken. With all things whole and free, you have a choice to make and it’s a hard choice, make them clearly and quickly. Hesitance will only kill you.
Chapter 2: Escape
Two huddled figures stood in silence, both hooded and cloaked. The cloaks and hoods a dark earthy color, completely blending them into the forest landscape at night. They stood next to a clearing behind some of the underbrush that was quite thick for being on the edge of the woods. There whole stature seemed to be as two trees. They did not move, they did not shiver in the midnight breeze. Two wide oak trees bathed them in a deliciously dark shadow. They were watching for anything that moved, save each others eyes, which were constantly roving the landscape. There visible features included one of there noses and two mouths, but that was it. They suddenly stopped breathing, something was coming. One of them fumbled under his cloak, and with a sudden clicking sound he was done. The other did somewhat the same except he drew out an evil looking black crossbow with blackened metal. A small party of horsemen walked by and they started to actually meld with the trees as the wind blew. The trail that the horses were walking on had another side with trees on the adjacent side of the trail. Not many riders came this way anymore, because of the constant chance of an ambush. But it couldn’t be helped this time, this trail cut off about seventy miles if they went straight through. If traders went this way, they were heavily armed they would have mounted siege bows and other equipment for fighting. Then something strange happened, one of four riders seem to yell something at the trees, this rider was different from the others because he was manacled to the pommel of the horses riding tackle. His hands suddenly shone a bright white and the horse screamed because of the molten metal dripping down its back. All the other riders were loosely organized but now were coming in to see what had happened, when suddenly, Eddie, one of the guardsmen, slumped forward In the saddle, wheezing for breath, this would probably be because of the bolt inside his neck, he then rolled off the saddle, dying. The other two guards then started to look around, one of them jumped off the saddle and threw his sword belt down and raised his arms up in the common sign of surrender. The other sneered at his companion commenting “ I knew you were the traitor!” and tried to gallop off down the skinny fifteen foot wide trail, three bolts found there mark in his armor before he also fell off his saddle, dead, bleeding from puncture wounds. The other guard who surrendered was then quickly affronted by the two men who were stalking by the oak tree. “Do you still uphold the honor of our agreement?” one of them asked, the professed prisoner replied smartly “Do I have a choice? When you two came to me in the castle, you gave me you’re trust, and you’re lives, I now do the same.” He put his arms down. The rider who was recently un-cuffed was getting off his horse when his something in his hands flashed brightly for a few moments momentarily blinding them all, the woods were alight within a few hundred feet of him. He hawked about, looking for anyone in the trees ad said, in a slightly appreciative tone, “This was a good plan, Nash, I must say this went very smoothly, and by the way, what did you tell the guard when we left that prison?” he asked, “I told him that the cell wasn’t adequate in keeping you imprisoned, so I was going to move you to the newer base down the road.”
“You said this?”
“I was not aware of any prison down the road from here.”
“That’s because there is no prison.” They finished, and now the man who betrayed the guards contemplated his future. He had been solely responsible for the killing of three very much loved guards, the base commander doted upon them often inviting them to special field operations and putting them in charge to lead. With all these thoughts he had to clear decisions-“Why don’t you join us Trush? We have need for skilled artisans like yourself.” Trush thought about this some more, Gareth was a leader of a large troop from the opposing army in the south and he would be welcomed with opened arms. In the south there are many armorers and blacksmiths who can do marvelous things with a strip of iron, one is the method of how they make steel. Many of their swords before the war came from there. Trush had saved a large amount of money and bought a basket-hilt claymore. A large sword for a young man, the steel was blued and had a small crack in the pommel, worn smooth over years of use. The sword was thick, tough metal; it would only bend if you hit it against a boulder made of diamond; repeatedly. Most swords that came into contact with this blade would either come out broken or shattered. This was a sword made for fighting. The hand guard was exquisite, the metal flowing out in a wide globe shape with a small layer of polish over the steel. The pommel was also dangerous, if you weren’t successful with killing the enemy on the downwards aimed swing then you could thrust up with the pommel, knocking them in the chin and causing all sorts of fractures in the skull. And when this didn’t work Trush had the round crossbow. It was one he had designed and then made himself. It was unique in the world of crossbows because it was round on top looking like one of the northerners hand shields, it would strap onto his arms and he could twist the top part, sliding the first bolt out of five into the firing chamber, making a clicking noise. It also doubled as a light shield, and tripled as a nasty surprise for anyone without armor. He took this out now and then made as if to walk to his horse after picking up his sword. Gareth made another attempt at trying to recruit him. “Why don’t you come with us? I don’t want to leave us for you may sell me out for a high price. They will be looking for you now, and you bear no signs of being in a struggle.” He implied that he wanted him to go.
“I can arrange to look slightly roughed up” he said this as a threat because the tone in Gareth’s voice was alarming. True, he had on the armor, but he didn’t want to risk a bolt in the face by the assassins that came to help there captain escape. “If I join you, I want leadership status immediately, and now I will be known as Hugo, I don’t want this to get back to my friends that I joined the side their fighting.”
“Simple enough.” He extended his hand and Trush, now known as Hugo, shook his hand. They started traveling down the road, after taking the armor off the escort’s bodies and put in the travel bags of the now rider-less horses.
Chapter 3: The south: The forgotten places
There is a dark trail leading through the woods, Hugo was feeling slightly edgy. This forest could indeed have devils; it was as old as time and the forest saw angels and demons fight in the sky. Many considered this land sacred, to lie at rest undisturbed. Hugo was one of those people who looked for trouble, often poking it with a sharp stick when he found it. Hugo was riding his horse; he now had much darker skin and spent many hours of the day exploring the ruins in the forests that were so lush here. He jumped off his mount when he found an interesting but smaller than usual eldritch design. It was shaped much as a pyramid with a flat top and was quite overrun with the danera trees here. The seeds had evolved to also float on the air and sense moisture, rich soil, and bare spots where there was lots of light. A human has all of these, except the soil. But we have very rich nutrients in us. These trees dropped a seed that burrowed into the soil; it could also drill into stone if given time, thankfully this only happened a week out of the year, and no one went near the forests then, not even animals. Huge slabs of stone made up this building, it looked like someone had taken sheets of rock and stacked it on top of each other. This was still large, and they made one respectful of the people who spent so much of their time building and planning them. They consisted of large, hewn stone blocks with usually small bricks holding them together. On the larger blocks there was a very detailed sketch of flying forms and winged creatures that carried weapons. This was a totally new ruin from the ones he was exploring yesterday and he took out his map and started to make a detailed sketch of the figures, he then started to draw the temple itself. He then took out more paper and marked where he was in the forest and looked for an entrance into the temple. There were indeed markings on other temples but these were unusual, they depicted pictures rather than words. There looked like there was an entry way about fifty feet to his left so he walked over and noticed it was indeed an entrance. The blocks had been arranged in a card tower fashion with the large one protruding over the top. He stepped into the entrance way and pushed on the stone, he could feel a foul draft leave the place as he stepped in. Some seeds also had fallen here and did their best to grow here but made a grim effort to populate the stairs. He walked quietly down the stairs, and he did this because he had a reverence for old things and also feared them. In an odd way, this place felt as if it was lived in, and was now observing him. To his knowledge he was about thirty feet underground. He kept on walking past the main chamber which was what was visible above ground. He kept on going farther and farther, making careful notes to the map he was holding. The wall was lusciously decorated with many drawings, A dragon, possibly friendly, use to reside in this temple, he took that it was friendly because of all the animals around it. The animals were oddly colored however, he took out a new form of equipment. It was a box, and when you took a picture, you either had to be in a well lit area or with a bright flash so that the picture would burn itself onto the special square piece of paper inside. It was a simple picture taker it was bright enough, he opened the lense and let it sit on a rock. It took a picture but would take awhile for it to settle without the flash. He kept on moving on, leaving the camera to do its work. He suddenly noticed that it got very much brighter to the chamber to the left. The chamber to his right was dark. He went into the brighter chamber, it looked as if this part of the roof had caved in a long time ago and he was seeing all the alcoves that infested this space. It was once a big chamber, probably used for some sort of sacrifice, he looked at the odd shapes that were on the altar. The altar was about seven feet long and was three or four feet wide. There were rusted points on it that looked like there were meant to be manacles of a sort a long time ago. He noticed something odd about the left side of the altar. They looked like feathers; but the space around them was oddly warped, as if they were bending the fabric of material reality, or sucking in the air around them. Hugo took out his sword and made an experimental poke against one of the feathers, it attached itself to his sword, as if it were magnetized. He shook his sword softly and then made the sword whistle through the air as he tried to shake it off. He then held the sword by the blade and then closely inspected it. He noticed that it had become part of his sword. He tried to remove it again, and then tried the dagger to try to scrape it off, but it was as if it turned into the metal itself. He couldn’t even get his knife under it. So he gave up and put the dagger back. He then put it back into its sheathed, unknowingly brushing it against his bare neck for a moment. It was unwieldy in this space, there were vines everywhere. The black feather then rested upon his neck. it was lengthwise; it was shaped like an eagles feather, quite elegant. He didn’t see this however and when the feather came off it was as if it gravitated towards him. It fell upon his neck and stayed attached there. As he moved away to new part of the chamber the feathers followed him noiselessly. They were moving as if a spectral wind was pushing them across the floors. He then noticed that he was still headed downwards then moved on ever deeper, feeling the cold air seep into his skin and making him shiver. He looked to his sides as he descended into the hallways. They had alcoves with what looked like was petrified skin and bones. He looked at them as he passed by, holding his breath. His comparative anatomy wasn’t as good as a troop medic but these bones never belonged to his class of humans. Hugo was beginning to get nervous as he walked down, wondering what was here. He simply just kept walking until the stairs he hit the bottom. He almost stumbled as he hit the flat floor. He wasn’t sure what he was walking on but it felt cold and made no sound as he stepped. He squinted into the darkness trying to see if he could discern shapes of some sort. This darkness was the earths own type, to keep everything secret was its purpose. Candles would fizzle out, torches would sputter. He hadn’t much kept up his duties as being a captain in Gareths patrol, but they didn’t do much, they were always just waiting. He wasn’t sure for what. So he enjoyed passing his time as an explorer of a sort. cont...in my book that i'm writing...
"Do you want to see a true Beast, one that is kept locked away for the fear of hurting another gives it even more power?" He said this with a sigh of inexperienced use. He had been beaten severely and looked as if he could not even stand up. "Yes, lets see this 'Beast'." the gang leader laughed and walked forward as he said this. Ghouls are not known for their level of intelligence but this one was smarter than the others, and therefore leader. Virgil picked himself off the ground and when the ghoul said that, it reminded of how his father had always taunted him with statements of "You’re not even near." "You'll never be even nothing if you keep on going that way." His step-father never liked him...ever. He believed he was jealous of him. He was an illegitimate son and his The Ghoul was still laughing when Virgil placed his feet on the ground more solidly. A nasty sneer appeared on his face and the lead ghoul cringed. See, when vampires and other creatures fight they usually use a weapon or wear armor of a sort. He threw away his blessed knuckles; they would just get in the way. As the ghoul walked towards him he obstructed Virgil from the view of the other ghouls that were hiding behind him. Virgil was...not normal when it came to being desperate. Things changed. His body goes limp and his mind goes to a seemingly non-responsive part of his mind. When he threw away his white coat a pair of jet-black wings veiled his body for they folded like an extra overcoat. These were not there before. The wings were the truest black you would ever find, for if you were to look into them long enough you may see the tiny glint of stars, burning far away. The wings unfolded to reveal a body that michealangelo would have cried to carve. As his wings flapped a Dark mist seemed to shroud the plaza's interior. The gang behind the ghoul leader started to lurk less menacingly and started to try to remember where the exits were. When Virgil started to walk forward he was not seen, all the leader heard were the echoes of footsteps which seemed to be everywhere. Sweat was starting to form on Barots forehead, as soon as the echoes stopped Barot's form went limp from relief. Then his faced made a pained expression. This was probably because of the faintly burning sword point emerging from his chest. He watched the sword go up and to left, separating his upper torso and his midriff. There was no blood. The flames on the sword sealed the wounds as they cut. The sword was all that could be seen in the mist, and even that was faint. Barots body fell, without making a sound. The Ghouls that were huddling in the group had heard the footsteps earlier and possibly a fleshy sound. They were very jumpy, they had there various blades out, blades is a loose term, axes, cutlasses and maybe even a large cleaver could have been seen, if you were to say, "About face!" It would most likely rain limbs. As they stood their in there own dark, they waited. A glow appeared to their left, as one, they all went upright instead of the normal stoop. The Beast in Virgil wanted blood. The sword was extinguished and disappeared taking the light with it. Ghouls have eyes like a cat, It comes with living underground for thousands of years. One of them remarked, " The Dark, it's bare." (They have a limited vocabulary, ghouls do.)
All of the sudden there was a flap of wings and the goblin that had spoken was whisked away far up in the air, the whole time screaming. His body hit the floor and made a loud "splurged" This choice of words was used because his body had opened up at places and was starting to ooze. Then another one of the three remaining goblins was kicked into one of the large pillars that surrounded the plaza, the force of the kick was so strong his almost all of his bones splintered, sticking out of various angles, protruding slightly out of his clothes. The two remaining ghouls uttered phrases of "Have mercy,"
and something that would sound like their version of John 3:16. The Goblin that said the lengthy phase was then lifted into the air like the first victim. He got to see his assailants face, it was the boy they had been barrocking.(beating) But then it wasn't. The face had an evil sneer, and the voice was like the breathing of an old dragon. "you want to go to heaven?" it rumbled. The ghoul stuttered something undesirable. "You Shall Never Enter That Domain!" It rasped evilly. The form of Virgil then produced a strong chain and two bolts from out of one wing. He then chained the ghoul to the pillar of seemingly bronze metal, and then drove the bolts through both of his wrists. The Ghoul wailed and gnashed his teeth, speaking an indecipherable song of misery. Virgil left him there to suffer. The Ghoul on the ground heard the screaming of his ill fated companion and then lost all hope of staying alive for the next minute. Virgil landed beside the whimpering ghoul, then walked to him. The ghoul tried to drive his cutlass through the boys chest but was thwarted by those, wings? No. They were not wings. They were nothing he tried to stab the cutlass further but found when his hand went past the barrier of wing it disappeared. A pain of imploding flesh came to ghoul. His wrist was gone. He backed away as he cradled the now gone half of an arm, the cut where the flesh was pulpy, as if it had been smashed off with a hammer. The creature then resigned himself to his fate. He kneeled before his assailant. Virgils black wings surrounded the ghouls whole body hiding it from view. There was the sound of a very agonized scream as the ghoul died. The wings came back and uncovered a pile of ghoul. In bloody chunks. Virgil started to walk away. then his shoulders sagged as the wings went underneath his flesh an expression of a man who was in Hell appeared on his face. He started to sob. He remembered his fathers jeers as he was crying. He knew he wouldn't be able to control it. Ever.
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