| Subject: Thanks, I try to make it that way. Should I continue? Here's the next part and yes, it is the same story, just switching to a different character. |
Author:
Sekin Brightfall
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Date Posted: 21:38:33 10/19/03 Sun
In reply to:
Jade
's message, "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!! **screaming in uncontrollable terror** (don't worry, I'm just playacting. Really suspenseful, though!)" on 21:02:00 10/19/03 Sun
Grisen gripped his sword tighter in his fist, his eyes burning with rage. His face was unreadable however, carefully blank of any emotions. It was only his eyes, his dark eyes, which gave away the insane rage that built up inside him. Like wells of anger, they reflected a horrible rage and a horrible loss. He could feel his blood boiling inside him; he could feel it rising up behind his face and tightened his grip on his sword, fighting to remain calm outwardly.
He gritted his teeth, locking the fury inside him, deep inside him, his face once again expressionless. His teeth were gritted however, bared in a snarl of wrath and his eyes glittered as much with anger as with bright tears. The fury built up in him once again, but it was the cold calculating rage of deadliness.
With his free hand, he unfastened his dark cloak and dropped it the pavements of the street in front of him, filthy with refuse and rotten food. He squared his powerful shoulders under his black tunic, flexing them and then, without a sound, Grisen turned and started to walk with shaking steps that denoted the passion inside him. Finally, when he could fool himself no longer, he broke into a fast trot boots crunching lightly over the small bones on the street. Grisen didn’t have to look down to know that they were children’s bones. Small arms, legs, and ribs shattered and intertwined. Skulls as small as his hand gaped up at him, with mangled, twisted, broken jaws, and horrible cracks through their forehead as if they were split open by some strange, jagged weapon.
Grisen didn’t look down, but as the bones crunched under his feet, his carefully controlled face darkened with the hate that shone in his fierce eyes. The bones crunched and crackled under his boots in a frightening rhythm. Step, crunch, step, crunch. There were so many bones, so many. He could feel them shatter under his feet and he clenched his teeth so violently that gripping pains seized his head. He didn’t care. He was past caring about whatever pain he suffered…His little Elanin was rotting already, her bones adding to those littering the street. He could be stepping on her decaying body, the deteriorating body of his daughter…His little Elanin…
And his wife, Elanin’s mother…Elanin’s death was swift and merciless compared to what she had endured. And all for the amusement of the Radgem…The lives he cherished far beyond his own, the only things that made his life worth living, gone forever; their last moments a brutal torrent of suffering and horror, of a terrible pain he had been forced to watch, helpless and unable to look away. There was only him now. Only Grisen Rolark…He was only one man, drowning in a hellish world, but he knew that even if one man couldn’t stand up to the Dark Master, one man could avenge the wrongs that had been done, could destroy the guilt that twisted his mind.
His powerful form moved swiftly through the night, the moon shining down on him like the eye of some celestial creature, watching him, shielding him. The whitish glow bathed his light brown hair, emphasized his sturdy build, cloaked him in a coat of light, and danced on the blade of steel in his fist.
When the sound of more booted feet crunching through the bones ahead of him cut through the air, Grisen didn’t even pause. He quickened his trot to a fast lope, heading for a patch of darkness to the sides of several leaning houses that seemed ready to cave in.
The crunches grew louder; at least two pairs of heavy boots were striding towards him. Grisen’s keen dark eyes picked out their shapes in the darkness and he smiled wolfishly. Ragdem. Never before had he been pleased to see them before…But tonight was the one and only exception.
Abruptly, the figures ahead of him stopped and he stopped as well, slouching down, digging his feet into the ground for the spring that would carry him smashing into his enemies. Radgem had excellent sight among other things whether it was pitch black or blinding light and their sense of smell was excellent. They were the most feared trackers for the Dark Lord and also the majority of his vast army. They were vicious fighters and devious of mind, but had no independent thoughts, what they were told to obey they did, without question and without thought, even if it meant killing themselves. Radgem…Half-human, half Night Demon.
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