Shadows in the Dark - Part 1

[Salvo 1852]

The First Sanguine

Written by HeeroZero

 

 

The North howled as the Amber Cold reached its climax, heralding the approaching of The Deep Cold. Snowstorms loomed over the peaks of Tahn. The North stood still, the world outside of its rigid cliffs muffled by the white curtain of snowfall. Amidst the brisk sunset, a lone soul guided a course south of the frigid mountains. As snow gradually perched over the man’s shoulders and snow lined the drapings of fur that lined his frame, the man persisted. Beneath his thick exterior of his pelt, a labored breath bellowed. His movements kept to a stiff, consistent rhythm. Arms swayed at his side, occasionally folding for warmth; legs raising high only to burrow into the pile-on of snow.

 

Something was amiss with the wayfarer. His ample journey seemed well prepared but lumbered as if something was lost, wayward, yearning. His shallow breaths persisted, contorting into deep gasps. Beneath his wooly hull, he gave a discrete wail. Although no matter the aches that irritated his inners the man maintained a constant speed. Gradually, he treked onward, sights set upon the borders where ice subsided and green flourish. Tugged by the wayward clasps of air.

 

 

 

 

 

A paleblood moon had winded over the skyline, frost withdrawing from the skies. Flooded with a sickly maroon hue, its light seeped out, illuminating the barren forests that the capricious hermit lurked. It was a sudden creak that disturbed the trance that bewitched the hermit. Although it appeared one hex had merely replaced another. A faint sound caressed the man’s ears. It echoed. Reverberating through the bark of the bulimic trees. Without any thought his feet amply trotted towards the source of the disturbance only for another melody to enchant the man with its lull. The man found himself before a small homestead, glazed in frost and put to bed. All was still. Not even a stray branched dared a creak. Trapped within the confines of his mind the man was victim to a frenzy of sounds and scents. His breathe have evolved into a stammering mess of breathlessness.

 

Guided by an unseen hand, he strided for a barn beside a frozen creek. The aged wood jeered at the man as he gained entrance. Quickly the few livestock awake. Beady brown eyes set upon the foreigner. The man idled before the opened gate, razor winds sweeping at the animals, frightened but later mortified by the piercing pale-green eyes that shined on them. The light mimicked two candles but glowed with a sinister pressure.

 

With a sudden pop the man’s jaw came unhinged. Fine teeth bearing a white sheen, each one finishing to a fine, curved point. A thin tongue ran over the fangs that fanned his maw, entrance by the young calf that retreated further into the corner of its stable. The man stepped forward with much hesitation. His limbs thrown into a  jittery spasm as an urge to resist surfaced. The other animals that populate the barn began shifting into an uproar. Yelping with fright. Little did they know they only brought more harm upon themselves. The last shreds of concentration, the fibers of restraint that held dearly snapped under the wails of the terror-stricken herd.

 

Simultaneously discarding the fur that coated him, the man leap forward with an daunting speed. He hurled himself over the gate of the calf’s enclosure. The oxen had not even a moment to utter a cry. A pain like non-other coursed through the arms of the now feral-strucken male. Something had burrowed through his digits. Nails protruded from the ends of his fingers, quickly transforming into a set of harrowing claws. The cries of the barn grew into a startling echo that filled the night. The bloodmoon that hung seemed appropriate. It expected the events of this evening and anxiously came to spectate. Eviscerating the calf, the man swiped at its chest. Neck craning to sink its jaws into the cow. Tear and rend, the man had. Cruel and brutal he maimed the beast. An unearthly change had begun. One that withered at his being and weaved him anew. Further gourging he bathed in the carnage. It had arisen from the deepest depths of his mind, howling and embracing him.

 

Moonlight peered through the planks of weathered wood. A baptism that inaugurated the man into the damned life.

[Andustar 4143]

Nicholas would turn to the sound of the howls in the distance, putting a hand on his longsword

"What the hell is that?!"

the northerner would brush the snow off his cloak, readying himself for whatever is out there.

[Slothtastic 761]

A Northerner man hears the howl while hunting, "That cannot be good...." He readies his bow for anything, and heads back.

[Birdnerdy 1539]

Osgod sits in the corner of the St Karlsburg tavern, puffing on an Akovian cigar as he listens to a group of travelers discussing strange voices on the wind.

[Mj. 697]

"I'm going to college I won't have enough time at all anymore" quotes Wem

[Wendigo 786]

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