Post by travizzt on Jan 15, 2007 18:21:29 GMT 1
[glow=red,2,300]Ok, before I start... I just have to thank BoH for the helpful remarks on the Prologue. I just decided to post the full Pro and the 1st chapter -I believe the first chapter really needs some repairing, so any helpful ideas or remarks are GREATLY appreciated-. So enjoy and I hope some comment on it and share their thoughts and ideas.[/glow]
Prologue
The warm night’s breeze brushed against pale skin, causing a feeling that was lost in the abomination’s mind. It was being hunted. It sensed the hunter’s warm blood on the breeze. It was hungry yet again.
It ran on for another mile, searching for a spot for an ambush. No, not ambush. The creature thought, but a slaughter. The thought of warm blood dripping off is fangs heightened the creature’s senses. It did not like being hunted.
Upon finding a good spot, the creature jumped onto a dead tree. Positioning it self so it could not be seen by the naked eye but it being able to see the path below. It waited. Slowly, fangs began to elongate and enlarge. The creature’s nails grew long and razor sharp, it knew it was ready to take lives. It knew it could win; it just had to be patient.
It did not like to be hunted.
* * * * * *
The dark-skinned elf moved quickly, the group behind him had to catch up before they lose the creature. He stopped and decided to let the group catch up. His blood-soaked cloak, once dark green in color, whipped out behind him revealing his nice clean chain mail armor. The stained cloak created a strange contrast between the clean armor.
Xantheil Do’Urden stood and looked around, unclasping from his wrist a small fanged pendant. He quickly examined it closely, making sure there was not any chips or scratches upon it that may ruin the enchantments effect. He knew that the pendant held an enchantment able to detect vampric creatures and glowed a bright blood red when one was near. He held the pendant in his closed palm and whispered a short incantation. Opening his hand he looked upon the pendant, slowly a faint burgundy red color appeared in the fangs. He knew he was within a mile of the creature.
Suddenly, a dagger flipped into his open hand. His dark green eyes searched the shadows as he moved along. He was not going to be surprised. He knew these creatures used stealth and cunning to attack. Quietly he stood unmoving, seeming to listen soft moan of the breeze. After a few minutes he heard the footsteps of his group behind him, causing him to lose his concentration.
He turned to the group and studied the twelve. He knew not all of them well survive.
* * * * * *
A small group of twelve was sent out to find and destroy a monster that has been plaguing a near-by community. As night began to fall, the group decided to stop and take a quick break from the search. Xantheil and three others left to scout out the surrounding area, leaving the other eight alone to set camp. Dusk slowly fell and the four scouts returned to the encampment. The group posted three guards for the short break while some of the others slept. The hour passed in an uncomfortable silence. The uneasy silence seemed to frighten some of the group. They decided to send out two to search the area once more. After an hour passed, the scouts did not return.
With no sign of the scouts, the group was about to send out another couple when one of the scouts came back screaming. He was holding his stomach, holding his entrails and trying to stop his blood from flowing out; he fell down and did not move. A couple members started toward him when the camp was ambushed. The creature first attacked the group’s mage, ripping her neck open and silencing her forever. The ambush was perfect; the creature easily took down two others before the small group could regain its senses. The monster rushed at the groups archers, easily dodging the hailstorm of arrows fired. Xantheil pumped his arm, sending daggers slicing through the air, one hitting the vampire. The creature hardly slowed, it launched itself at one archer, easily ripping a hole through him. Then with barely a move, it slashed left severely cutting the other archers left arm. Then there were eight.
The slashed archer took out a dagger and tried to stab at the creature, but with the limp arm it was useless. The vampire easily dodged the stab and bit at the man’s throat, ripping out his neck and severing his jugular. He went down, lifeless.
As soon as the creature ripped out the archer’s throat, three others were upon it hacking and slashing. The monster took hit after hit but showed no sign of stopping. One man stabbed at it but the creature bit and ripped off his upper forearm. The man fell back in horror only to realize the beast was on him biting and slashing him to pieces. The other two fell back at the sight and Xantheil saw the fear in their eyes.
He yelled, “Get him! Don’t let it frighten you! You need to kill it! Avenge the fallen! Hur-.” Then Xantheil feel silent, and couldn’t speak.
The other two glanced at Xantheil but the glance was long enough for the creature to slash at one, cutting her chest. The other chopped down with his axe but missed and the creature threw it’s claws upon the mans face. The creature followed its slash all the way through, ripping off the man’s face and showing the white of his skull. The woman grasped for breath, and the creature leaped upon her biting her neck and drinking her blood.
Xantheil was horrified at the sight, his body became paralyzed and his mind went blank. The injured scout was barely moving. The other remaining member seemed to have disappeared, probably ran off. Xantheil knew he would be next if the creature ignored the other dead laid out upon the ground. But the vampire was only concerned with the dead woman’s body, drinking the warm blood from her neck. Xantheil tried to get his thoughts back into place; he needed to form some sort of defense. Xantheil knew he couldn’t run.
* * * * * *
As the creature finished drinking the woman’s blood, it stood straight up and stretched its arms up towards the moon. As it did that, the wounds from the cuts, slashes, stabs began to heal. The creature began to survey the blood bath, looking for anything that still had blood running through their veins. It’s eyes fell upon the man he injured earlier. It could easily tell the man was gone. It continued its survey when it’s eyes fell upon Xantheil. The creature could hardly move, it knew well the reputation of the drow. However, it realized that it should not be scared. It appeared to the creature that the dark elf was paralyzed. He hardly could even breathe. The creature began to walk towards the drow.
* * * * * *
Xantheil could tell the vampire was coming his way, yet his body still could not move. His mind raced, thinking of some way to remove the paralysis. He desperately tried to wiggle his fingers. The creature was within a few feet and Xantheil saw the blood still dripping from its fangs. He could feel some movement in his hand and feet. The paralysis was wearing off, and the creature was now just inches from Xantheil.
Time seemed to stop within that few quick seconds. Xantheil felt his feet coil back to his stomach and push off with as much strength as he could. He felt his feet connect with the vampire. The force of the kick seemed to surprise the vampire. It stumbled backward, giving enough time for Xantheil to jump up and ready his weapons. He drew out one of his Dwarven forged long swords and positioned himself in some sort of defense. He knew that the swords could hurt the vampire, but he wasn’t sure how much damage he could inflict upon it. He needed another plan. Then time seemed to return to normal.
“Vampire, why don’t you run? You could not possibly know that my weapon is calling for you. It seems to have some sort of hunger for the undead. I warn you, if you come near, I will kill you.” Xantheil lied. “I just thought I may warn you before I slice through your body like candle wax.”
The vampire merely laughed and jumped at the dark elf. Xantheil quick sidestepped out of the way and stabbed. The vampire wasn’t fooled, it pulled up short and the stab was wide. Xantheil was happy to notice his rouse work, and he let loose with his free hand a wave of icy energy, hitting the vampires right shoulder. The creature’s shoulder would not move, Xantheil’s spell worked. Before the vampire could defend his frozen shoulder, Xantheil smacked it with the flat of his sword, chipping a small piece off. The vampire howled in rage, and it quickly moved back a few steps and resized his opponent.
“Fool! You cannot possibly kill me with your spells!” the vampire hissed. “I will drink your blood.”
The vampire once again rushed at the dark elf, however it took more precaution this time.
* * * * * *
Xantheil said a quick spell and a ball of energy appeared in his hand. He flicked his palm towards the vampire, causing the ball to split into four smaller ones. The energy balls began to strike the creature, causing the demon to jerk violently. Before the last few missiles hit, Xantheil came upon the vampire, striking its frozen shoulder with the sharp edge of his sword. The sword hit with rapid succession, taking chunks out of the vampire’s now dead arm. Xantheil quickly retreated back out of easy striking distance from the vampire. He knew not to get to close to the creature; else he’d be among the tattered corpses around the area.
The vampire knew it was now at a disadvantage, with having one useless arm it knew it could not defend itself. It was still certain it can take out the drow, and it decided to try one last attack. If this fails I shall run, the vampire thought. And I shall take my revenge another day.
Xantheil looked upon his adversary, trying to understand its movements. The vampire took a quickstep towards Xantheil, making him brace for contact. But, no contact occurred. Xantheil looked to where he last seen the creature, but it appeared to disappear. Xantheil still sensed his presence in the area and he was not going to be fooled by the vampire’s stealth. He calmed himself, trying to sense any vibrations of movement in the air. He felt a change behind him and spun around, peering into the vampire’s cold, yellow eyes. Before he could react, the creature slashed at him. Xantheil threw himself backwards to desperately avoid its claws, but the nails dug into his arm. He dropped his sword and clutched his slashed and bleeding arm.
The vampire now knew it could kill the dark elf. It leaped upon Xantheil, trying to get its fangs into the soft tissue of dark elf’s neck. Xantheil batted at the creature with his good arm, trying to get it as far back as possible. The vampire no longer cared to run away, it had the drow beaten.
* * * * * *
Xantheil thoughts were now focused on how he would be able to survive. He batted and hit the creature in the face a few times. He kicked at its stomach, trying to get it to move back. He swung his unwounded arm and felt sharp pains rush up and down his whole body. He looked at the creature’s head and realized that it sunk its fangs into his arm. Xantheil felt weak, and kicked with all the strength he had left. The kick was enough. The force tore the vampire off him as well as the vampire taking a chunk of his arm and his muscle with it.
Xantheil got to his feet took out his other sword. He was grateful that the earlier slash didn’t paralyze that arm. He had to defend himself. His other arm still bleed and lay useless on his side. He head was spinning, he tried to locate the vampire but he felt the ground rush up and engulf him. He tried to will himself up, but soon he thoughts became scrambled. Then all he knew was darkness.
* * * * * *
The vampire looked upon the falling drow. A smile appeared upon its face as it neared the fallen elf. When it reached him, the creature bent down. Suddenly, the creature hissed and fell back. Rays of light began to appear around it. The vampire hurriedly looked about, trying to find shelter from the damning light. Without finding anything in the immediate area, it ran.
Chapter One
“He lost a lot of blood.” The man told the captain. “But I think he’ll make it. He has to, he’s a Do’Urden after all.”
A tall, sickly looking man looked upon the drow. He was the captain of the small community of Yaldalf Evitce, he had sent Xantheil and the group out to hunt the vampire. His eyes searching Xantheil’s neck looking for any puncture wounds or bite marks. When he didn’t see any, he peeled back the bandages covering his arms. He searched for any bite marks within those wounds, and once again he failed to find any.
“How long has he been out?” the sickly man asked.
The man that brought back Xantheil responded, “About a day.”
“You’re sure there weren’t any other survivors?” The captain questioned. He was heartbroken when he found out of the groups fateful encounter with the abomination. “And how did you make it out alive and unwounded?”
The man lowered his eyes in shame. He was barely able to look at the captain. He ran off scared when the vampire attacked and he returned before the creature had its way with Xantheil. He whispered, “After that demon ambushed us, I ran. I wanted to get as far away as I could. But I couldn’t leave my friends and kinsmen behind like a coward, so I came back. I saw the fight between Xantheil and the monster. When I saw him go down, I used that special stone Aditaio gave us. It created light as bright as the sun, almost blinding me and I believe it scared off that devil. After the light dimmed down, I searched around the camp. All I found was blood and torn pieces of my friends. I found only one other still breathing, Dimino. But Dimino was too greatly wounded. He lost too much blood along with holding his insides. I’m sorry Captain Dalfige. How can we save Xantheil?”
Dalfige hardly heard anything the man said, his thoughts were elsewhere. A year back, a messenger was sent to Silverymoon from this community asking for assistance with a problem. The messenger described how villagers were disappearing and found days later with their blood drained and puncture wounds on the neck. He told of how a group of villagers found a recently built cave that lead into the ground within the forest that surrounded the village. They would have explored it, but they heard a scream in the distance and ran upon the vampire and an elf. It was to late to save the elf and they were paralyzed with fear. Luckily, the creature didn’t see the villagers.
Then he heard the man’s voice asking how Xantheil could be saved. “Take him to the cleric, maybe Aditaio could help.”
The man took Xantheil off leaving the captain to his thoughts. He could not get the thought of losing so many townsmen and soldier’s out of his head. He covered his face with his hands, thinking the darkness would comfort him.
If only he knew what he was getting into when he was sent from Silverymoon to this hellhole.
* * * * * *
Blood spurted out of the ground. Red rained down from the sky. The air smelled of dried blood. Dead trees dotted the landscape, upon closer inspection, the broken limbs and branches bled. There was a small lake, which could be seen nearby, of red. Staining everything upon its shores a deep, dark red. The image seems to scream blood. It assaulted the drow.
Xantheil looked down at his hands and screamed. Blood spurted out of his fingers. He tried to stem the blood, but he was unable. Suddenly, his vision became a burgundy red. He felt sharp pains going up and down his body. The pain seemed to center from his neck, then moving down to his fingertips and his toes. He could feel his heart racing, beating faster and faster as the seconds ticked by. He tried to calm himself, until he felt a pain so unbearable he lost all his concentration. It felt as though some was squeezing is heart, draining all the lifeblood out of it.
Soon, all the pain left. The only thing Xantheil seen was darkness.
* * * * * *
Aditaio looked upon the wounds of the drow. He knew that Xantheil wouldn’t be able to use his left arm as well as he used to, and maybe not even at all. The muscle was torn beyond repair, Aditaio seen similar wounds like this one, but this one was to unique it seemed to him. The damaged to the arm was not as clean as anything else he seen. He knew it wasn’t from a bite or a weapon. This was just to unique and he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
Xantheil’s other arm however was a different story; it was not nearly as bad as the other one. Also, it seemed to be healing faster then the cleric has seen in his lifetime. The other day when he checked the wounds and cleaned the bandages, the slash was deep. Then today, it appeared to be just inches deep. The healing placed another question on the mind of the cleric. Something he’ll have to find out at a later date. He tried to force the disturbing thoughts out of his mind and focus on the work at hand.
“This drow was lucky. Coming away from a fight like that and still be alive is amazing. Srev, come here and look at this.”
The man that brought Xantheil back never left the drow’s side. He felt responsible for the carnage. He should have been there, fighting with his kinsmen, dying with them. Srev got up from his seat and looked at Aditaio and followed his eyes to the wound. A look of pure joy came to his face.
“He is healing!”
“Aye, and faster then I believe anyone I ever treated ever has. I believe he should awaken within the next day. Are you still going to stay the night here? I think it will be best if someone should stay with him, incase he awakens.”
“Aye, I am. I want to make sure he has someone here.”
Aditaio turned back to Xantheil and replaced his bandages. He was bothered by the tear and how he was healing much faster than a normal living thing would. He knew he would have to question Xantheil when, and if, he awakes.
* * * * * *
Once again the nightmare assaulted Xantheil. But this time, it was different. Instead of being terrified, Xantheil was calm, even welcoming them. He didn’t feel uncomfortable at the pelting of the bloody rain. He welcomed it. He even ventured close to the blood lake. Before he realized it, Xantheil was wading into the blood. It seemed to calm the drow more and more. When he was waste deep in the red, he dropped into the blood, totally submerging himself in it.
Slowly the dream faded, the feeling of the blood upon his skin left. The smell of blood faded. Then he heard the humming of a person nearby. He began to hear a fire crackle and the smell of meat being cooked. Slowly, his eyes began to open.
Xantheil looked about, half expecting to be at the in doomed camp. The soft feeling of the bed he was laid in startled him. He gasped for breath.
* * * * * *
Srev was staring out a window at the stars. He was quietly humming to pass the time by until his food was cooked. He let his thoughts loose upon the starry sky, dreaming of the day he will be out of here. He missed Silverymoon and the atmosphere of the peaceful town. The stars seemed to dim a bit, breaking his trance. He heard the gasping behind him and turned to see Xantheil sitting up and awake. Joy shown upon his face for a brief second, being replaced with terror as he realized Xantheil couldn’t breath.
“Xan! Breath! Calm yourself, my friend.” Srev exclaimed, obviously worried by the drow’s inability to breath. “Help! I need help in here! Someone get Aditaio! Hurry! Come on Xantheil, calm yourself.” By this time, a small crowd has gathered to see what the commotion was about.
“Move! Out of the way!” yelled Aditaio. “I need to get through, please go back to your homes. Srev, get these people out of here.” Srev, taking the command began to usher the villagers back and telling them to go tend to their homes. Aditaio turned to Xantheil and stated calmly, “Xan, you have to breath.”
Aditaio was fiddling with something upon his belt; trying to open a top off a flask. When he got the top off he forced Xantheil to open his mouth and swallow the elixir. Xantheil’s breathing became slower and slower and finally the potion took it’s full effect, putting him at ease. The temporary effect didn’t last long at all. Within a few minutes Xantheil was once again resting easily, but this time he was breathing steadily.
* * * * * *
The days seemed to move slowly for Dalfige, too slowly. Something was troubling him. Something was gnawing inside his conscious. Something to him was wrong. He knew it wasn’t the fact that he lost so many good fighters as well as an up-and-coming mage, it seemed to be deeper.
His senses told him something was terribly wrong, but he couldn’t understand the warnings. Dalfige tried to put them out of his mind. He sent a messenger to Silverymoon to ask for a few more fighters, he wanted this village to be safe. Dalfige wanted to feel safe.
The coming days, he tried to drown those thoughts with ale, and he hoped that those thoughts would stay at the bottom of the mug. He posted more guards at the entrance of the village as well as other key places. He had torches light up the whole village. He didn’t want any shadows to form. He didn't want any places where these creatures could hide. Dalfige wanted to feel safe.
During the nights, he lay awake. He didn’t want the darkness to overcome him. His thoughts berated and were consistent in owning his thoughts. The captain was scared.
When the news of Xantheil still alive put the captain at ease for the time. Then the paranoid thoughts once again came, this time in more force. Dalfige tried to sort out his thoughts. But they always came back to one. Xantheil was bitten! How could he have lived for so long and not left the world of the living?
Dalfige finally decided to go and see the drow. He needed to put these thoughts at rest, once and for all. The captain needed to know his thoughts were wrong. Dalfige needed to feel safe.
Prologue
The warm night’s breeze brushed against pale skin, causing a feeling that was lost in the abomination’s mind. It was being hunted. It sensed the hunter’s warm blood on the breeze. It was hungry yet again.
It ran on for another mile, searching for a spot for an ambush. No, not ambush. The creature thought, but a slaughter. The thought of warm blood dripping off is fangs heightened the creature’s senses. It did not like being hunted.
Upon finding a good spot, the creature jumped onto a dead tree. Positioning it self so it could not be seen by the naked eye but it being able to see the path below. It waited. Slowly, fangs began to elongate and enlarge. The creature’s nails grew long and razor sharp, it knew it was ready to take lives. It knew it could win; it just had to be patient.
It did not like to be hunted.
* * * * * *
The dark-skinned elf moved quickly, the group behind him had to catch up before they lose the creature. He stopped and decided to let the group catch up. His blood-soaked cloak, once dark green in color, whipped out behind him revealing his nice clean chain mail armor. The stained cloak created a strange contrast between the clean armor.
Xantheil Do’Urden stood and looked around, unclasping from his wrist a small fanged pendant. He quickly examined it closely, making sure there was not any chips or scratches upon it that may ruin the enchantments effect. He knew that the pendant held an enchantment able to detect vampric creatures and glowed a bright blood red when one was near. He held the pendant in his closed palm and whispered a short incantation. Opening his hand he looked upon the pendant, slowly a faint burgundy red color appeared in the fangs. He knew he was within a mile of the creature.
Suddenly, a dagger flipped into his open hand. His dark green eyes searched the shadows as he moved along. He was not going to be surprised. He knew these creatures used stealth and cunning to attack. Quietly he stood unmoving, seeming to listen soft moan of the breeze. After a few minutes he heard the footsteps of his group behind him, causing him to lose his concentration.
He turned to the group and studied the twelve. He knew not all of them well survive.
* * * * * *
A small group of twelve was sent out to find and destroy a monster that has been plaguing a near-by community. As night began to fall, the group decided to stop and take a quick break from the search. Xantheil and three others left to scout out the surrounding area, leaving the other eight alone to set camp. Dusk slowly fell and the four scouts returned to the encampment. The group posted three guards for the short break while some of the others slept. The hour passed in an uncomfortable silence. The uneasy silence seemed to frighten some of the group. They decided to send out two to search the area once more. After an hour passed, the scouts did not return.
With no sign of the scouts, the group was about to send out another couple when one of the scouts came back screaming. He was holding his stomach, holding his entrails and trying to stop his blood from flowing out; he fell down and did not move. A couple members started toward him when the camp was ambushed. The creature first attacked the group’s mage, ripping her neck open and silencing her forever. The ambush was perfect; the creature easily took down two others before the small group could regain its senses. The monster rushed at the groups archers, easily dodging the hailstorm of arrows fired. Xantheil pumped his arm, sending daggers slicing through the air, one hitting the vampire. The creature hardly slowed, it launched itself at one archer, easily ripping a hole through him. Then with barely a move, it slashed left severely cutting the other archers left arm. Then there were eight.
The slashed archer took out a dagger and tried to stab at the creature, but with the limp arm it was useless. The vampire easily dodged the stab and bit at the man’s throat, ripping out his neck and severing his jugular. He went down, lifeless.
As soon as the creature ripped out the archer’s throat, three others were upon it hacking and slashing. The monster took hit after hit but showed no sign of stopping. One man stabbed at it but the creature bit and ripped off his upper forearm. The man fell back in horror only to realize the beast was on him biting and slashing him to pieces. The other two fell back at the sight and Xantheil saw the fear in their eyes.
He yelled, “Get him! Don’t let it frighten you! You need to kill it! Avenge the fallen! Hur-.” Then Xantheil feel silent, and couldn’t speak.
The other two glanced at Xantheil but the glance was long enough for the creature to slash at one, cutting her chest. The other chopped down with his axe but missed and the creature threw it’s claws upon the mans face. The creature followed its slash all the way through, ripping off the man’s face and showing the white of his skull. The woman grasped for breath, and the creature leaped upon her biting her neck and drinking her blood.
Xantheil was horrified at the sight, his body became paralyzed and his mind went blank. The injured scout was barely moving. The other remaining member seemed to have disappeared, probably ran off. Xantheil knew he would be next if the creature ignored the other dead laid out upon the ground. But the vampire was only concerned with the dead woman’s body, drinking the warm blood from her neck. Xantheil tried to get his thoughts back into place; he needed to form some sort of defense. Xantheil knew he couldn’t run.
* * * * * *
As the creature finished drinking the woman’s blood, it stood straight up and stretched its arms up towards the moon. As it did that, the wounds from the cuts, slashes, stabs began to heal. The creature began to survey the blood bath, looking for anything that still had blood running through their veins. It’s eyes fell upon the man he injured earlier. It could easily tell the man was gone. It continued its survey when it’s eyes fell upon Xantheil. The creature could hardly move, it knew well the reputation of the drow. However, it realized that it should not be scared. It appeared to the creature that the dark elf was paralyzed. He hardly could even breathe. The creature began to walk towards the drow.
* * * * * *
Xantheil could tell the vampire was coming his way, yet his body still could not move. His mind raced, thinking of some way to remove the paralysis. He desperately tried to wiggle his fingers. The creature was within a few feet and Xantheil saw the blood still dripping from its fangs. He could feel some movement in his hand and feet. The paralysis was wearing off, and the creature was now just inches from Xantheil.
Time seemed to stop within that few quick seconds. Xantheil felt his feet coil back to his stomach and push off with as much strength as he could. He felt his feet connect with the vampire. The force of the kick seemed to surprise the vampire. It stumbled backward, giving enough time for Xantheil to jump up and ready his weapons. He drew out one of his Dwarven forged long swords and positioned himself in some sort of defense. He knew that the swords could hurt the vampire, but he wasn’t sure how much damage he could inflict upon it. He needed another plan. Then time seemed to return to normal.
“Vampire, why don’t you run? You could not possibly know that my weapon is calling for you. It seems to have some sort of hunger for the undead. I warn you, if you come near, I will kill you.” Xantheil lied. “I just thought I may warn you before I slice through your body like candle wax.”
The vampire merely laughed and jumped at the dark elf. Xantheil quick sidestepped out of the way and stabbed. The vampire wasn’t fooled, it pulled up short and the stab was wide. Xantheil was happy to notice his rouse work, and he let loose with his free hand a wave of icy energy, hitting the vampires right shoulder. The creature’s shoulder would not move, Xantheil’s spell worked. Before the vampire could defend his frozen shoulder, Xantheil smacked it with the flat of his sword, chipping a small piece off. The vampire howled in rage, and it quickly moved back a few steps and resized his opponent.
“Fool! You cannot possibly kill me with your spells!” the vampire hissed. “I will drink your blood.”
The vampire once again rushed at the dark elf, however it took more precaution this time.
* * * * * *
Xantheil said a quick spell and a ball of energy appeared in his hand. He flicked his palm towards the vampire, causing the ball to split into four smaller ones. The energy balls began to strike the creature, causing the demon to jerk violently. Before the last few missiles hit, Xantheil came upon the vampire, striking its frozen shoulder with the sharp edge of his sword. The sword hit with rapid succession, taking chunks out of the vampire’s now dead arm. Xantheil quickly retreated back out of easy striking distance from the vampire. He knew not to get to close to the creature; else he’d be among the tattered corpses around the area.
The vampire knew it was now at a disadvantage, with having one useless arm it knew it could not defend itself. It was still certain it can take out the drow, and it decided to try one last attack. If this fails I shall run, the vampire thought. And I shall take my revenge another day.
Xantheil looked upon his adversary, trying to understand its movements. The vampire took a quickstep towards Xantheil, making him brace for contact. But, no contact occurred. Xantheil looked to where he last seen the creature, but it appeared to disappear. Xantheil still sensed his presence in the area and he was not going to be fooled by the vampire’s stealth. He calmed himself, trying to sense any vibrations of movement in the air. He felt a change behind him and spun around, peering into the vampire’s cold, yellow eyes. Before he could react, the creature slashed at him. Xantheil threw himself backwards to desperately avoid its claws, but the nails dug into his arm. He dropped his sword and clutched his slashed and bleeding arm.
The vampire now knew it could kill the dark elf. It leaped upon Xantheil, trying to get its fangs into the soft tissue of dark elf’s neck. Xantheil batted at the creature with his good arm, trying to get it as far back as possible. The vampire no longer cared to run away, it had the drow beaten.
* * * * * *
Xantheil thoughts were now focused on how he would be able to survive. He batted and hit the creature in the face a few times. He kicked at its stomach, trying to get it to move back. He swung his unwounded arm and felt sharp pains rush up and down his whole body. He looked at the creature’s head and realized that it sunk its fangs into his arm. Xantheil felt weak, and kicked with all the strength he had left. The kick was enough. The force tore the vampire off him as well as the vampire taking a chunk of his arm and his muscle with it.
Xantheil got to his feet took out his other sword. He was grateful that the earlier slash didn’t paralyze that arm. He had to defend himself. His other arm still bleed and lay useless on his side. He head was spinning, he tried to locate the vampire but he felt the ground rush up and engulf him. He tried to will himself up, but soon he thoughts became scrambled. Then all he knew was darkness.
* * * * * *
The vampire looked upon the falling drow. A smile appeared upon its face as it neared the fallen elf. When it reached him, the creature bent down. Suddenly, the creature hissed and fell back. Rays of light began to appear around it. The vampire hurriedly looked about, trying to find shelter from the damning light. Without finding anything in the immediate area, it ran.
Chapter One
“He lost a lot of blood.” The man told the captain. “But I think he’ll make it. He has to, he’s a Do’Urden after all.”
A tall, sickly looking man looked upon the drow. He was the captain of the small community of Yaldalf Evitce, he had sent Xantheil and the group out to hunt the vampire. His eyes searching Xantheil’s neck looking for any puncture wounds or bite marks. When he didn’t see any, he peeled back the bandages covering his arms. He searched for any bite marks within those wounds, and once again he failed to find any.
“How long has he been out?” the sickly man asked.
The man that brought back Xantheil responded, “About a day.”
“You’re sure there weren’t any other survivors?” The captain questioned. He was heartbroken when he found out of the groups fateful encounter with the abomination. “And how did you make it out alive and unwounded?”
The man lowered his eyes in shame. He was barely able to look at the captain. He ran off scared when the vampire attacked and he returned before the creature had its way with Xantheil. He whispered, “After that demon ambushed us, I ran. I wanted to get as far away as I could. But I couldn’t leave my friends and kinsmen behind like a coward, so I came back. I saw the fight between Xantheil and the monster. When I saw him go down, I used that special stone Aditaio gave us. It created light as bright as the sun, almost blinding me and I believe it scared off that devil. After the light dimmed down, I searched around the camp. All I found was blood and torn pieces of my friends. I found only one other still breathing, Dimino. But Dimino was too greatly wounded. He lost too much blood along with holding his insides. I’m sorry Captain Dalfige. How can we save Xantheil?”
Dalfige hardly heard anything the man said, his thoughts were elsewhere. A year back, a messenger was sent to Silverymoon from this community asking for assistance with a problem. The messenger described how villagers were disappearing and found days later with their blood drained and puncture wounds on the neck. He told of how a group of villagers found a recently built cave that lead into the ground within the forest that surrounded the village. They would have explored it, but they heard a scream in the distance and ran upon the vampire and an elf. It was to late to save the elf and they were paralyzed with fear. Luckily, the creature didn’t see the villagers.
Then he heard the man’s voice asking how Xantheil could be saved. “Take him to the cleric, maybe Aditaio could help.”
The man took Xantheil off leaving the captain to his thoughts. He could not get the thought of losing so many townsmen and soldier’s out of his head. He covered his face with his hands, thinking the darkness would comfort him.
If only he knew what he was getting into when he was sent from Silverymoon to this hellhole.
* * * * * *
Blood spurted out of the ground. Red rained down from the sky. The air smelled of dried blood. Dead trees dotted the landscape, upon closer inspection, the broken limbs and branches bled. There was a small lake, which could be seen nearby, of red. Staining everything upon its shores a deep, dark red. The image seems to scream blood. It assaulted the drow.
Xantheil looked down at his hands and screamed. Blood spurted out of his fingers. He tried to stem the blood, but he was unable. Suddenly, his vision became a burgundy red. He felt sharp pains going up and down his body. The pain seemed to center from his neck, then moving down to his fingertips and his toes. He could feel his heart racing, beating faster and faster as the seconds ticked by. He tried to calm himself, until he felt a pain so unbearable he lost all his concentration. It felt as though some was squeezing is heart, draining all the lifeblood out of it.
Soon, all the pain left. The only thing Xantheil seen was darkness.
* * * * * *
Aditaio looked upon the wounds of the drow. He knew that Xantheil wouldn’t be able to use his left arm as well as he used to, and maybe not even at all. The muscle was torn beyond repair, Aditaio seen similar wounds like this one, but this one was to unique it seemed to him. The damaged to the arm was not as clean as anything else he seen. He knew it wasn’t from a bite or a weapon. This was just to unique and he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
Xantheil’s other arm however was a different story; it was not nearly as bad as the other one. Also, it seemed to be healing faster then the cleric has seen in his lifetime. The other day when he checked the wounds and cleaned the bandages, the slash was deep. Then today, it appeared to be just inches deep. The healing placed another question on the mind of the cleric. Something he’ll have to find out at a later date. He tried to force the disturbing thoughts out of his mind and focus on the work at hand.
“This drow was lucky. Coming away from a fight like that and still be alive is amazing. Srev, come here and look at this.”
The man that brought Xantheil back never left the drow’s side. He felt responsible for the carnage. He should have been there, fighting with his kinsmen, dying with them. Srev got up from his seat and looked at Aditaio and followed his eyes to the wound. A look of pure joy came to his face.
“He is healing!”
“Aye, and faster then I believe anyone I ever treated ever has. I believe he should awaken within the next day. Are you still going to stay the night here? I think it will be best if someone should stay with him, incase he awakens.”
“Aye, I am. I want to make sure he has someone here.”
Aditaio turned back to Xantheil and replaced his bandages. He was bothered by the tear and how he was healing much faster than a normal living thing would. He knew he would have to question Xantheil when, and if, he awakes.
* * * * * *
Once again the nightmare assaulted Xantheil. But this time, it was different. Instead of being terrified, Xantheil was calm, even welcoming them. He didn’t feel uncomfortable at the pelting of the bloody rain. He welcomed it. He even ventured close to the blood lake. Before he realized it, Xantheil was wading into the blood. It seemed to calm the drow more and more. When he was waste deep in the red, he dropped into the blood, totally submerging himself in it.
Slowly the dream faded, the feeling of the blood upon his skin left. The smell of blood faded. Then he heard the humming of a person nearby. He began to hear a fire crackle and the smell of meat being cooked. Slowly, his eyes began to open.
Xantheil looked about, half expecting to be at the in doomed camp. The soft feeling of the bed he was laid in startled him. He gasped for breath.
* * * * * *
Srev was staring out a window at the stars. He was quietly humming to pass the time by until his food was cooked. He let his thoughts loose upon the starry sky, dreaming of the day he will be out of here. He missed Silverymoon and the atmosphere of the peaceful town. The stars seemed to dim a bit, breaking his trance. He heard the gasping behind him and turned to see Xantheil sitting up and awake. Joy shown upon his face for a brief second, being replaced with terror as he realized Xantheil couldn’t breath.
“Xan! Breath! Calm yourself, my friend.” Srev exclaimed, obviously worried by the drow’s inability to breath. “Help! I need help in here! Someone get Aditaio! Hurry! Come on Xantheil, calm yourself.” By this time, a small crowd has gathered to see what the commotion was about.
“Move! Out of the way!” yelled Aditaio. “I need to get through, please go back to your homes. Srev, get these people out of here.” Srev, taking the command began to usher the villagers back and telling them to go tend to their homes. Aditaio turned to Xantheil and stated calmly, “Xan, you have to breath.”
Aditaio was fiddling with something upon his belt; trying to open a top off a flask. When he got the top off he forced Xantheil to open his mouth and swallow the elixir. Xantheil’s breathing became slower and slower and finally the potion took it’s full effect, putting him at ease. The temporary effect didn’t last long at all. Within a few minutes Xantheil was once again resting easily, but this time he was breathing steadily.
* * * * * *
The days seemed to move slowly for Dalfige, too slowly. Something was troubling him. Something was gnawing inside his conscious. Something to him was wrong. He knew it wasn’t the fact that he lost so many good fighters as well as an up-and-coming mage, it seemed to be deeper.
His senses told him something was terribly wrong, but he couldn’t understand the warnings. Dalfige tried to put them out of his mind. He sent a messenger to Silverymoon to ask for a few more fighters, he wanted this village to be safe. Dalfige wanted to feel safe.
The coming days, he tried to drown those thoughts with ale, and he hoped that those thoughts would stay at the bottom of the mug. He posted more guards at the entrance of the village as well as other key places. He had torches light up the whole village. He didn’t want any shadows to form. He didn't want any places where these creatures could hide. Dalfige wanted to feel safe.
During the nights, he lay awake. He didn’t want the darkness to overcome him. His thoughts berated and were consistent in owning his thoughts. The captain was scared.
When the news of Xantheil still alive put the captain at ease for the time. Then the paranoid thoughts once again came, this time in more force. Dalfige tried to sort out his thoughts. But they always came back to one. Xantheil was bitten! How could he have lived for so long and not left the world of the living?
Dalfige finally decided to go and see the drow. He needed to put these thoughts at rest, once and for all. The captain needed to know his thoughts were wrong. Dalfige needed to feel safe.
) Other than that, I liked this paragraph immensely. 