| Subject: OK, next part. Sorry it's so short, but this is the last part saved on Word, the rest I wrote by hand and I don't feel like typing it up right now. Inside. |
Author:
Sekin Brightfall
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Date Posted: 03:06:51 10/22/03 Wed
In reply to:
Sekin Brightfall
's message, "OOC: because you're the only one intrested in it. BIC: Thank you! I'll write more as soon as I get home" on 00:53:42 10/22/03 Wed
The Radgem’s eyes narrowed to yellow slits, gleaming with an inhuman sheen. Somehow, fear seemed to penetrate through to his mind. Fear. Of a slave. With an angry snarl directed at both itself and Grisen, it leaped forwards like black fire. Grisen ducked under the flashing axe blade and came up close to the Radgem’s face. He let go of the sword hilt with one hand, curling his fingers into a fist and aiming for the Radgem’s eye. The Radgem’s left hand came up like lightning, blocking his blow. His fist thudded into the outstretched hand, long nails gleaming in the moonlight. The Radgem’s arm never even seemed to move from his blow, as if it only absorbed the force of it without any visible signs of pain.
Grisen barely had time to move before the hand seized his arm and twisted it, pulling it viciously back behind him, the long nails digging into his flesh like burning needles. Grisen almost screamed from the pain. Almost.
What could have been the ruined, savage mutation of a smile ghosted across the Radgem’s ferocious mouth, twisting up the pale lips, and glinting on the jagged teeth. Grisen’s face contorted in pain, his eyes narrowing and he could feel through a horrible pain, his arm slowly begin to twist towards breaking point, the Radgem’s nails digging in deeper and scoring bloody trails in his flesh. Grisen’s rage burned even deeper, fueled by his pain and the hideous glee in his opponent’s face. Slamming his head forward, he managed to slam the top of his skull into the Radgem’s face. A sickly crunch sounded and he was almost convinced that his arm had broken in two. The Radgem’s grip had certainly tightened to an almost unbearable level, but his arm wasn’t what had snapped. As Grisen pulled himself up and wrenched his arm free from the horrible vise of the Radgem, he saw his foe’s pale nose was broken, deep scarlet blood was coursing down its face and it reeled backwards, clutching it’s injury. That was all Grisen needed.
He lunged forwards once more and drove his sword home. Straight into the Radgem’s chest. With its mouth twisting in a wordless howl, the Night Demon doubled over the yard of cold steel rammed into its heart. Pale, ghostly hands grabbed the blade, unheeding of the keen edge, trying to pull it free. Raising its head, the Radgem stared in shock at Grisen. Yellow eyes clashed with fearsome rage filled brown. Then, with a faint snarl, the Radgem collapsed onto its knees and fell face first onto the bones of its victims, its dead weight almost carrying Grisen down with it.
Grisen withdrew his sword from the corpse, placing a foot on the Radgem’s shoulder to wrench the blade free. He stared down at his fallen foes with a triumphant smile playing around the edges of his mouth but his eyes still burned. Paying not even the slightest heed to the wounds in his arm, side, and leg, Grisen padded softly away from his battleground. Once again the shadows cloaked him in darkness and he stole along like he was born of them, the bright steel hid under his cloak. The town still swarmed with Darkborn, the bones still crunched under his heavy boots, and the night was still young.
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