The Plight of The Condemned

[Heero 4092]

This post is a following up to this post:

 

On 2/10/2016 at 5:15 AM, Heero 阴 said:

 

Trapped within a perpetual state of purgatory, a Keeper stripped of his wings jets through the gloom-ridden foliage draped in a heavy, ominous mist. Huffing, he turns about-face. The individual draped in torn garments, stained with faded blood and otherworldly substances.

His wrist snaps to his rear, unsheathing a crude cleaver built from a gnarled bone and a jagged stone tethered to its ivory base. The bloodied and scarred combatant stands his ground. Eyeing the feral abomination before him.

 

 

Ringing its rows of teeth the terror pounces forward. Its howl reverberating through the Eldritch woods and resonating off the twisted bark and cursed boulders. At a gallop the damned denizen whisks his arm forward in an attempt to bar the inbound claw. A sudden shudder runs down the fallen Keeper’s spine before the razors of the beast tear into his side. Yelping in pain, he drives his primitive tool into the side of the beast and pedals back only before being met with an ear-piercing shriek.

 

Both parties circling one another. A river of red running from the condemned paladin’s midsection and an eerie stream of green dripping from the beast as it lowers itself on all six of its limbs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The hurtle of iron rang through the bleak glades. A constant symphony of heavy breathes, monstrous cries and tearing of leathery flesh followed with each heave. A lone, misfortunate soul made his footwork around the remaining beast. Two others of a similar make lied lifeless within the clearing. One which was nothing but pulsating muscle with a single eye protruding from its chest as lanes of foul teeth lined the only opening along the creature’s stomach. The other, an ectomorphic figure. Grey in color, it bared no face and its arms two sets of sharp pincers. The surviving member of the pack of abominations hunched forward in the thick mist. It growled at the presence of the descendant that roamed its woods and laid waste to its brethren.

 

 

The fiendish creature snarled at the one  draped in tattered garments. Pure blue eyes piercing the mist that loomed within the area. Its multitude of tentacles whipped about franticly. Each one possessing a large maw at its end. Salivating, snapping their jaws one after another. They longed for the flesh of the one so alien to them. The beast was blooded, already struck by the weapon its opponent wielded.

 

The blade held by the man was a puzzling sight. It was far too sophisticated and forged of  a heavenly or mythic metal. A weak yellow glow leaked from the blade. It tried tirelessly to illuminate its surrounds but failed miserable. What was presumably a long sword was snapped in two. It still proved to be a suitable weapon but the once majestic tool had clearly seen better days. Tarnished, numerous notches and chips lined the blade along both sides.

Drawing the blade into a striking stance the swordsman darted forward. The Elf evaded the mouths that lunged for him. He struck his blade at a tendril while it spun toward him, cleaving it in two with ease. The beast squealed in agony. Only another step was taken before the rugged Elf plunged the blade into the creature’s core. Quickly silence fell before the gluttonous monster slumped to the ground as the others had prior.

 

The damned paladin stumbled a step back. Out of breath, he drove his blade into the soil for support. His knees collapsing shortly after.

 

He longed for home. Once a valiant fighter he now hung knee deep in mud and dismembered horrors. He was broken. A ruined shell of his former self. He ran through regions of land in this forsaken world. Since his landing not a day passed where he hurled up like a child in some form of shelter and solemnly prayed. He prayed for hours for mercy, guidance, relief, hope - all until he finally fell into a slumber. He pleaded for any direction from the patron he was so devout to. All that answered his calls were the howls in the distance. This war of beasts and monsters was not for him. The paladin hung from the crossguard of his sword, whimpering. His lips quivering. He fought for no pride, name or purpure. Only the primal urge of survival. The wicked sights he saw plague his visions and taunted his sleep. He was constantly dazzled. At times he was unaware if he was fighting in these cursed woods or merely tormented in another dream. The line between the two had blurred to such a point. It mattered not in the end. It was the same regardless. The same struggle.

 

No matter if he attempted to kindle a fire he felt no warmth in this purgatory. His hands were chafed. Calluses lined his palms and digits. Splinters drove into the soles of his feet with each step. His frame ached. His sight was sore, eyes raw. Constantly he questioned what he had done to deserve such captivity in a land of such carnage. He questioned how such a place could exist and why one would fabricate such a nightmare. He lowered his head further in defeat.

 

 

The Keeper clipped of his wings wailed into the night. He wailed and sobbed. Tears ran down his soiled cheeks while he clung to the handle of his sword, staring off into the distance as his eyes filled. He glared at the limegreen sky in disgust, green tendrils churning over head. Seeping from the cracks that lined the horizon. He cursed himself and the land that condemned him.

 

 

[Elad™ 560]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.