Post by Malum on Jan 28, 2006 14:40:38 GMT -5
Unholy Night
A howl pierced through the silence of the moonlit forest. It echoed off the mountain, blew with the wind through the trees, awakened small animals, and gave the eerie, blue mist a more frightening deportment. The moonlight shone through parts of the forest where no trees blocked it rays, casting blue shadows upon the ground.
A pale face came upwards to look at the blue moon. Fire glowed in the figure’s eyes. Short puffs of air from it’s breath formed in clouds of fog that floated up from it’s mouth into the sky. Its ears were small, and almost pointed. Its nose was curved and rounded at the end. It’s skin was pale and bluish.
Blood dripped from it’s fangs.
The creature enjoyed the moonlight glowing on its face for a short time, then looked back down at it’s kill. A face stared back at it, an open eyed, cold, withered face. Two marks stood out on it’s neck, they were small a red, as if two needles had punctured the skin there and gone very deep.
“Liege,” the thing turned towards another one of his kinds who was behind it, “they will be here soon, we have little time.”
It stood up. Not bothering to respond to it’s underling (or wipe it’s mouth of the human blood) it started walking swiftly. It’s long, white hair blowing back and snapping in the wind, it’s long legs carried it great distances with each step. The underling struggled to keep pace without running.
Something rustled in the trees nearby. To the left, to the right, it seemed as if the all the leaves in the forest were moving. One, greenish face came from the bushes. Then another, then another, and yet another figure appeared from behind the bushes. They emerged, dozens of others of the creature’s kind came from their hiding spots behind the trees and in the brush and began following it. They varied in size, shape, mass, and even color. But they all had the same, long, needle-like teeth.
Many of the creatures were hunched over, and walked oddly, as if they were in pain. But some walked with perfect posture, like their leader. These were the ones with the nicer attire. Unlike their weaker brethren they bore leather and tunics. The weaker, smaller ones all had ripped cloth or rags for clothes.
But none of them, weak or strong, held a weapon. Though they appeared to be assembled for a battle of some sort none looked ready to fight. But with the lashing claws and volatile fangs they didn’t need swords or arrows.
The creature’s pace quickened, but did not break into a run. It’s army followed in a scattered cluster. The weakest ones had to run to keep up. While the more powerful simply changed paces to match their leader’s, though even they had trouble staying close.
The trees parted and the devilish group reached the end of the forest path, and came to a rise, where their leader stopped. It’s profound face looked at the small town below.
Few lights glimmered down below, for most of the humans were sleeping, those who weren’t soon would be. The cattle no longer grazed in the pasture. The sickening voices of little children had died away. All that moved in the streets were rats and insects. No guards stood watch. It was a perfect time to attack.
For long this village had been a threat. Too long. But soon that would end. Soon they would suffer the pain of a thousand deaths. The beast would see to it.
“They are in position, Dominus,” the underling whispered, close to it’s leader’s ear.
After a pause the leader of the demonic army hissed a response. It’s cool voice so quiet, so subtle, only it’s army could hear the order, “Move.”
At once the slaves silently went back into the brush, stealthily making their way to the village. For the first three seconds after the order rustling and movement could be heard, twigs snapped, leaves crunched, hisses escaped the underlings’ lips. But after that they had found their paths and could make their way down without noise. Their training had paid off.
Across the village, on another hill, the rest of the army waited. They stood, motionless and silent, watching their leader. The moon was behind it, making it look all the more terrible and powerful. It’s army watched for the signal, waited for the chance to attack.
It felt like hours. The group on the other side was most likely already to the village, making the first of their kills. But the loyal creatures simply waited.
Not even a breath could be heard from them. They appeared to be statues, or colored gargoyles. Not even their eyes moved. The moon had visibly moved and they still waited.
Then, arms hanging down, The Vlarkele unceremoniously flicked it’s hand. No human would be able to see the motion. No human could even see the figure standing on the rise. But these weren’t humans. They were something else, and they were moving in to attack the city.
Down in the village a young human boy awoke. He was getting up two hours early so he could do the daily chores without interruption from his younger brother. After going to the bathroom and getting on his working clothes the boy went outside to feed and milk the cattle.
He carefully opened the backdoor. He winced as it creaked softly, and winced again as he shut it. The boy stepped down the back porch, carefully avoiding the loose floorboard. A sigh of relief escaped from his throat as his bare feet touched the wet grass.
As he walked across the pasture something caught his eye. The boy pivoted around to his right. But there were only bushes and trees, the forest. From his youngest days the boy had feared the forest. But recently he had learned his way around it and was getting used to the strange things that happened there.
But something about that night, something about that sound he had heard petrified him with fear. He did not move, he just stood there in the light rain, looking on at the trees, searching for something, anything that might have made the sound.
There were three trees very close to each other. Was that were the sound came from? But leaves fell from the branch of a larger tree off to the right. He could have sworn he heard the sound from the left of that area though.
His feet slowly sunk down in the mud as he watched for some time. What rain there was drenched his hair and ran down his nose, falling off and hitting the ground in a rhythmic splash, making a small puddle in the mud.
The boy realized there was nothing there and dismissed the sound.
Then the attack came, not from where he was looking on, but from behind. Weight greater than his forced the boy to the ground. He landed on his stomach, with his face in the mud. Dirty water went into his nose and mouth. With all his strength he rolled onto his back to see his attacker. But his face was smashed back down into the mud by a powerful hand, twisting his neck painfully.
He tried to scream for help but the hand grasped his throat, constricting him. He tried to kick but bony knees held down his feet. He tried to punch and flail but one arm was held down, and the other refused to move, it had been broken when the large body fell onto him.
The boy tried again to move his head, but a sudden, piercing pain screamed through his neck. A horrible pressure blazed through his body, he felt his very insides being sucked out, his very blood being removed through his neck.
The thing was sucking his blood out!
For a few, agonizing minutes his body slowly shut down. System by system he died. First he lost his ability to move, then his ability to see, hear, and even taste. His last thoughts were that he wanted it to end. The boy wanted to die, for even if he survived there was too little blood in his freezing body, and the pain would just continue. After this thought passed he could no longer think. Then, there was darkness.
One by one the people died. Each and every one of them experienced the slow, painful process of their blood being sucked out from their bodies. But not one of them let out a cry or scream, for the creatures were too swift, too cunning to let them warn the others. By the end of the night they were all dead and not a single one had even seen what was happening.
The Vlarkele was pleased. But the job was not done.
“Bring them,” it’s cool, soft voice ordered.
The underling bowed and hunched off.
As it waited for it’s slave to return The Vlarkele looked at the village. It smiled at the smell of fresh blood, of a fresh killing. The creature’s yellow, cat-like eyes were powerful enough to see the dead bodies laying in the streets where they had been dragged, ready to be taken away.
“Dominus,” the underling whispered.
The superior turned, it’s underling held two infants, one in each arm. Vlarkele carefully took them both and examined their faces. They both had the same, pale blue skin as it. They also had it’s teeth, white hair, yellow eyes, and claw-like hands.
The Vlarkele smiled at it’s children.
But just as quickly as it had picked them up, it flung it’s hand like a sling and dropped one, down off the top of the rise. The tiny body fell down into the bushes. The sound of twigs snapping under what weight the infant had echoed in the night. Then there was a light thud as the babies body hit the forest floor below. There it would be found and eaten by some creature. If the Vlarkele felt remorse for this it did not show on the beast’s face. Without another word, or look, it abruptly turned and walked away, still holding one child. The underling followed it, back into the woods, back up the mountain to The Vlarkele’s lair.
The deed was done.
A howl pierced through the silence of the moonlit forest. It echoed off the mountain, blew with the wind through the trees, awakened small animals, and gave the eerie, blue mist a more frightening deportment. The moonlight shone through parts of the forest where no trees blocked it rays, casting blue shadows upon the ground.
A pale face came upwards to look at the blue moon. Fire glowed in the figure’s eyes. Short puffs of air from it’s breath formed in clouds of fog that floated up from it’s mouth into the sky. Its ears were small, and almost pointed. Its nose was curved and rounded at the end. It’s skin was pale and bluish.
Blood dripped from it’s fangs.
The creature enjoyed the moonlight glowing on its face for a short time, then looked back down at it’s kill. A face stared back at it, an open eyed, cold, withered face. Two marks stood out on it’s neck, they were small a red, as if two needles had punctured the skin there and gone very deep.
“Liege,” the thing turned towards another one of his kinds who was behind it, “they will be here soon, we have little time.”
It stood up. Not bothering to respond to it’s underling (or wipe it’s mouth of the human blood) it started walking swiftly. It’s long, white hair blowing back and snapping in the wind, it’s long legs carried it great distances with each step. The underling struggled to keep pace without running.
Something rustled in the trees nearby. To the left, to the right, it seemed as if the all the leaves in the forest were moving. One, greenish face came from the bushes. Then another, then another, and yet another figure appeared from behind the bushes. They emerged, dozens of others of the creature’s kind came from their hiding spots behind the trees and in the brush and began following it. They varied in size, shape, mass, and even color. But they all had the same, long, needle-like teeth.
Many of the creatures were hunched over, and walked oddly, as if they were in pain. But some walked with perfect posture, like their leader. These were the ones with the nicer attire. Unlike their weaker brethren they bore leather and tunics. The weaker, smaller ones all had ripped cloth or rags for clothes.
But none of them, weak or strong, held a weapon. Though they appeared to be assembled for a battle of some sort none looked ready to fight. But with the lashing claws and volatile fangs they didn’t need swords or arrows.
The creature’s pace quickened, but did not break into a run. It’s army followed in a scattered cluster. The weakest ones had to run to keep up. While the more powerful simply changed paces to match their leader’s, though even they had trouble staying close.
The trees parted and the devilish group reached the end of the forest path, and came to a rise, where their leader stopped. It’s profound face looked at the small town below.
Few lights glimmered down below, for most of the humans were sleeping, those who weren’t soon would be. The cattle no longer grazed in the pasture. The sickening voices of little children had died away. All that moved in the streets were rats and insects. No guards stood watch. It was a perfect time to attack.
For long this village had been a threat. Too long. But soon that would end. Soon they would suffer the pain of a thousand deaths. The beast would see to it.
“They are in position, Dominus,” the underling whispered, close to it’s leader’s ear.
After a pause the leader of the demonic army hissed a response. It’s cool voice so quiet, so subtle, only it’s army could hear the order, “Move.”
At once the slaves silently went back into the brush, stealthily making their way to the village. For the first three seconds after the order rustling and movement could be heard, twigs snapped, leaves crunched, hisses escaped the underlings’ lips. But after that they had found their paths and could make their way down without noise. Their training had paid off.
Across the village, on another hill, the rest of the army waited. They stood, motionless and silent, watching their leader. The moon was behind it, making it look all the more terrible and powerful. It’s army watched for the signal, waited for the chance to attack.
It felt like hours. The group on the other side was most likely already to the village, making the first of their kills. But the loyal creatures simply waited.
Not even a breath could be heard from them. They appeared to be statues, or colored gargoyles. Not even their eyes moved. The moon had visibly moved and they still waited.
Then, arms hanging down, The Vlarkele unceremoniously flicked it’s hand. No human would be able to see the motion. No human could even see the figure standing on the rise. But these weren’t humans. They were something else, and they were moving in to attack the city.
Down in the village a young human boy awoke. He was getting up two hours early so he could do the daily chores without interruption from his younger brother. After going to the bathroom and getting on his working clothes the boy went outside to feed and milk the cattle.
He carefully opened the backdoor. He winced as it creaked softly, and winced again as he shut it. The boy stepped down the back porch, carefully avoiding the loose floorboard. A sigh of relief escaped from his throat as his bare feet touched the wet grass.
As he walked across the pasture something caught his eye. The boy pivoted around to his right. But there were only bushes and trees, the forest. From his youngest days the boy had feared the forest. But recently he had learned his way around it and was getting used to the strange things that happened there.
But something about that night, something about that sound he had heard petrified him with fear. He did not move, he just stood there in the light rain, looking on at the trees, searching for something, anything that might have made the sound.
There were three trees very close to each other. Was that were the sound came from? But leaves fell from the branch of a larger tree off to the right. He could have sworn he heard the sound from the left of that area though.
His feet slowly sunk down in the mud as he watched for some time. What rain there was drenched his hair and ran down his nose, falling off and hitting the ground in a rhythmic splash, making a small puddle in the mud.
The boy realized there was nothing there and dismissed the sound.
Then the attack came, not from where he was looking on, but from behind. Weight greater than his forced the boy to the ground. He landed on his stomach, with his face in the mud. Dirty water went into his nose and mouth. With all his strength he rolled onto his back to see his attacker. But his face was smashed back down into the mud by a powerful hand, twisting his neck painfully.
He tried to scream for help but the hand grasped his throat, constricting him. He tried to kick but bony knees held down his feet. He tried to punch and flail but one arm was held down, and the other refused to move, it had been broken when the large body fell onto him.
The boy tried again to move his head, but a sudden, piercing pain screamed through his neck. A horrible pressure blazed through his body, he felt his very insides being sucked out, his very blood being removed through his neck.
The thing was sucking his blood out!
For a few, agonizing minutes his body slowly shut down. System by system he died. First he lost his ability to move, then his ability to see, hear, and even taste. His last thoughts were that he wanted it to end. The boy wanted to die, for even if he survived there was too little blood in his freezing body, and the pain would just continue. After this thought passed he could no longer think. Then, there was darkness.
*
One by one the people died. Each and every one of them experienced the slow, painful process of their blood being sucked out from their bodies. But not one of them let out a cry or scream, for the creatures were too swift, too cunning to let them warn the others. By the end of the night they were all dead and not a single one had even seen what was happening.
The Vlarkele was pleased. But the job was not done.
“Bring them,” it’s cool, soft voice ordered.
The underling bowed and hunched off.
As it waited for it’s slave to return The Vlarkele looked at the village. It smiled at the smell of fresh blood, of a fresh killing. The creature’s yellow, cat-like eyes were powerful enough to see the dead bodies laying in the streets where they had been dragged, ready to be taken away.
“Dominus,” the underling whispered.
The superior turned, it’s underling held two infants, one in each arm. Vlarkele carefully took them both and examined their faces. They both had the same, pale blue skin as it. They also had it’s teeth, white hair, yellow eyes, and claw-like hands.
The Vlarkele smiled at it’s children.
But just as quickly as it had picked them up, it flung it’s hand like a sling and dropped one, down off the top of the rise. The tiny body fell down into the bushes. The sound of twigs snapping under what weight the infant had echoed in the night. Then there was a light thud as the babies body hit the forest floor below. There it would be found and eaten by some creature. If the Vlarkele felt remorse for this it did not show on the beast’s face. Without another word, or look, it abruptly turned and walked away, still holding one child. The underling followed it, back into the woods, back up the mountain to The Vlarkele’s lair.
The deed was done.
your story is fuckin awesome.... YOU KICK ASS!!!!!!!! yeah, i think im gonna write another obsessive fan story, but for that we gotta do another interview.....is that ok with you??