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The Blade of Phoee (Updated 12/08/08)
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<blockquote data-quote="Funeris" data-source="post: 3844363" data-attributes="member: 22792"><p><strong>Chapter 8: Devils in the Dark (Continued)</strong></p><p></p><p>Very short update. Apologies. I'll update at least once more before next Sunday.</p><p></p><p>~Fune</p><p></p><p>-------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p></p><p>The priest gargled a painful shout as one meaty, oversized hand clamped his throat closed. His face erupted in reds and blues. Stars erupted in front of his eyes. His last breath, caught just below the stitching in the golem’s hand, threatened to burst out of his body. </p><p></p><p>A high-pitched wailing filled the cleric’s ears. He realized with some sadness the scream was female and not his own.</p><p></p><p>Tobus’ left leg twitched violently as the golem’s arm extended, causing the hardwood of the double door to dominate his spine. He was pinned; the world was spinning and swiftly approaching blackness.</p><p></p><p><strong><p style="text-align: center"> * * * </p><p></strong></p><p>The horse reared in mid-stride, its black mane whipped across Cassock’s face. Its rear legs threatened to snap under the strain of its own weight and speed. As fast as it had shot upward into the air, gravity pulled its kicking front legs down. The hooves rent the dirt of the forest and Cassock grasped tightly to maintain his balance. His companions, still a distance behind, had the advantage to slow more carefully. They trotted up behind after only a few moments.</p><p></p><p>A mere fifty feet ahead, a rider in black and crimson blocked the path. Once the companions reined in their horses, he slid like a shadow running from the midday sun off the back of the black steed. The reins fell from his hands. He stalked forward carefully, only two pinpricks of burning red visible within the visor of his helm. He was all black and crimson armor and clothing. </p><p></p><p>“I should handle this,” Cassock quietly suggested. He dismounted. Aramil followed next. </p><p></p><p>“We have your back,” Ana swore as she, too, leapt to the earth. The priest grunted in assent.</p><p></p><p><strong>Undead</strong>, the chilling voice of the blade whispered in Aramil’s ears. <strong>This One Has Not Walked In The Light In Some Time.</strong> Aramil nodded, unconsciously and whispered the information.</p><p></p><p>“All the more reason for me to handle this,” the priest intoned. </p><p></p><p>The rider halted. Five feet of dead space separated Cassock and he. Orrin’s red eyes flared behind the visor. He breathed deeply the scent of the trespassers. His lust flared within his stomach, up through his throat and into his jaws. His own fetid blood filled his mouth when his fangs tore into the flesh of his lower lip. The taste of his last meal—a peasant that had been quite succulent—tasted of naught but rot when compared to the scent surrounding him.</p><p></p><p>Orrin was glad for the armor he wore now for not only the protection it would offer him but that it cloaked his facial expressions. The hunger in his face would betray him. It would need to be swallowed—the pungency and sweetness of these mortals would have to be ignored. </p><p></p><p>Exhaling, the scent passed out of his body and his words formed, “You are trespassing on the King’s lands.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Funeris, post: 3844363, member: 22792"] [b]Chapter 8: Devils in the Dark (Continued)[/b] Very short update. Apologies. I'll update at least once more before next Sunday. ~Fune ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The priest gargled a painful shout as one meaty, oversized hand clamped his throat closed. His face erupted in reds and blues. Stars erupted in front of his eyes. His last breath, caught just below the stitching in the golem’s hand, threatened to burst out of his body. A high-pitched wailing filled the cleric’s ears. He realized with some sadness the scream was female and not his own. Tobus’ left leg twitched violently as the golem’s arm extended, causing the hardwood of the double door to dominate his spine. He was pinned; the world was spinning and swiftly approaching blackness. [b][center] * * * [/center][/b] The horse reared in mid-stride, its black mane whipped across Cassock’s face. Its rear legs threatened to snap under the strain of its own weight and speed. As fast as it had shot upward into the air, gravity pulled its kicking front legs down. The hooves rent the dirt of the forest and Cassock grasped tightly to maintain his balance. His companions, still a distance behind, had the advantage to slow more carefully. They trotted up behind after only a few moments. A mere fifty feet ahead, a rider in black and crimson blocked the path. Once the companions reined in their horses, he slid like a shadow running from the midday sun off the back of the black steed. The reins fell from his hands. He stalked forward carefully, only two pinpricks of burning red visible within the visor of his helm. He was all black and crimson armor and clothing. “I should handle this,” Cassock quietly suggested. He dismounted. Aramil followed next. “We have your back,” Ana swore as she, too, leapt to the earth. The priest grunted in assent. [b]Undead[/b], the chilling voice of the blade whispered in Aramil’s ears. [b]This One Has Not Walked In The Light In Some Time.[/b] Aramil nodded, unconsciously and whispered the information. “All the more reason for me to handle this,” the priest intoned. The rider halted. Five feet of dead space separated Cassock and he. Orrin’s red eyes flared behind the visor. He breathed deeply the scent of the trespassers. His lust flared within his stomach, up through his throat and into his jaws. His own fetid blood filled his mouth when his fangs tore into the flesh of his lower lip. The taste of his last meal—a peasant that had been quite succulent—tasted of naught but rot when compared to the scent surrounding him. Orrin was glad for the armor he wore now for not only the protection it would offer him but that it cloaked his facial expressions. The hunger in his face would betray him. It would need to be swallowed—the pungency and sweetness of these mortals would have to be ignored. Exhaling, the scent passed out of his body and his words formed, “You are trespassing on the King’s lands.” [/QUOTE]
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