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 Posted: Wed Feb 08, 2012 9:16 pm
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Borus breathed heavily as he pushed forward, his hooved feet beating hard against the sand. He was exhausted, spent, and knew he could not push on much longer. He knew he wouldn't have to though, as the edge of the western woods lied on the horizon. That was his target, and he knew to stop before he reached it was death, for the creatures that followed him were unrelenting. His entire clan had feared these monsters when they were united, and when by yourself they might as well be called mortal doom.
The creatures were skeletal remnants of large wolves, standing six to eight feet tall. They had not been natural wolves in life, but legends of yore from the Western woods, ancient animals whose spirits had been powerful, perhaps too powerful. No one truly knew what created the badlands, but those who were native to it knew the legend that the land used to be a part of the western woods, and that when the wolves home had been taken over by the barren wasteland they had stubbornly remain and starved to nothing but the skeletons he saw today, but their forlorn spirits remain latched to the bones, as stubborn in death as they were in life. They stalked the badlands, the only way to truly defeat them being to drive them back, or escape the badlands themselves.
He would have no issue fighting them back if it weren't for the fact that they were so resilient. The bones of the creatures could be broken, but they would simply regroup and the creature would fight on within a few moments. They could be outrun, as Borus was doing now, but the creatures never tired and never slept. They could run day and night at the same speed, making trying to escape them foolish; unless you could escape their hunting ground. The wolves could only remain bound to their ancient bones within the Badland, once one was out of the desert the wolves wouldn't follow. The Badlands were vast though, and as Borus charged headlong forward he knew that even when he reached the forest he would be very weak, and would have to find some way to feed himself. He certainly hadn't stuck to any road in his escape, so he would be in some uninhabited wilderness of the woods without any supplies and sufficiently spent. Staying in the Badlands with the wolves at his back seemed like a worse plan though.
He could hear the creatures getting close as he neared the border, obviously pushing themselves to catch up as they realized how close he was to freedom. As he began to surmount the first hill with tufts of grass poking out of the dry ground he could hear the gnashing of their bones close behind him. He stole a glance back to see the glowing red eyes of the monsters, but didn’t let it slow him down. He threw himself over the top of the hill and let himself roll down into the softer green grass of the western woods, not caring about the bruises he earned falling down the steep slope and rolling down into the creek bed down below. He knew when he reached the bottom and felt the wet flow of water running down his back and the canopy of trees above him he knew that for now he was safe. He let out a loud sigh as he heaved air into and out of his lungs. His muscles were too tired and bruised to grant him any form of movement, so he simply fell asleep right there in the middle of the small creek, letting out a rhythmic tune of snores. He would be back up and finding his way to his friends soon, but for now he figured he had earned a nap. |
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Posted: Fri Feb 10, 2012 11:51 pm
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John listened to Keira recount what she had learned at the orphanage. "...I never really heard of shapeshifter, vampires, or anything that is suppose to be legends. You see the orphange never read us stories of folklores and fairytales. It was as if they were training us. I grew up in the orphange my whole life so you see I don't really get why you and the other Lord even saved me in the first place. I don't recall what happened besides the bruises on my wrist. However I can say I am experiencing another side of the world. The orphanage I grew up in taught us to read, write, fencing, healing, hunting, fighting and other stuff. Is that normal for an orphange to do things like that?"
"Here? Yes. Except you'd learn about the 'legends', since they are real. For humans? Probably not." He steered her up the stairs and down a tall and long hallway, comprising of four floors. A bit further along than he anticipated, there was the second door - the office of Captain Munroe. He hesitated, looking at his informal street garb and at Keira's borrowed, torn, and bloody jacket. He plucked at the jacket to straighten it out and, deciding there was really nothing they could do, knocked on the door three times. "Enter," came a deep voice from within.
They stepped into a warm, brightly lit study. The walls were lined with shelves of books and behind a large mahogany desk was a roaring fire in the fireplace. A man stood behind the desk, "Can I help you?" John held the message up between two fingers, "From Colonel Cosgrove." The man's face immediately lit up. "Ah, come in, come in! Where is old Cosgrove?"
John steered Keira to a chair in front of the desk, "Maybe dead for all we know, sir. He's in with the healer as we speak. He has the medical supplies, sir." The captain's face fell as he read the letter. "Very, serious, yes. Very serious indeed. Bad business of it," he mumbled quickly to himself. When he had finished, he straightened up and looked at John, "You say he might be dead?"
"He may very well be, yes sir." The captain sank into his chair, rubbing his stubble in a tired manner. "It's this moon, I tell you. Just now, I'm missing two of my most reliable and powerful agents - Rogan and Renu. They're supposed to be preventing a large scale attack on humans by anti-humanity groups tonight. They're an hour late... And now, the Colonel," he sighed. "Very well. I may have use of you. Go and tend to your Colonel. I'll send for you."
They stood and strode toward the door. Just as they reached it, they were called back. "Wait a moment. What are your names?"
"I am John Harcourt of the Southern Isles, and this is the Colonel's charge, Keira." The captain nodded in dismissal and the pair made their way to the healer. |
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Posted: Sat Feb 11, 2012 1:51 am
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"What the hell was that," John panicked, slipping back into his natural, thick - what humans would call - Brittish accent. "Death Dealer!? How did you do that? You're human." He stood up slowly and eyed her, a look alarm on his face. The wind blew hard, bringing with it a strange scent... a scent he knew so well. He looked up at the sky warily. "Come on," he said, wrapping an arm around her, "We need to get you under cover." He he tried as hard as he could, but he couldn't conceal his accent anymore. It pained him; he had studied tirelessly to adopt Colonel Henry's accent in an effort to be more like him. Now he was slipping back into his rough ways.
He walked quickly around back to a small door at the bottom of a staircase. He knocked twice and they went inside. There was Henry, white and bloodstained. His lips were blue and he was absolutely still - too still. John stepped to the table where the healer was working. "Is he," his voice was quiet and hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Is he...? I mean, has he," he couldn't bring himself to say it. The healer did not turn around. "He is. But, if I can manage this potion, and put as much of my healing power and energy into it that I can, he might be brought back. It's very risky, so give him some room. I can still sense his soul lingering. I need to work quickly before he departs for good. There are chairs by the door."
John sat, quietly viewing the corpse of the man he looked up to as a mixture of a father, a brother, and a best friend.
"When I was young, I was much like you, Keira. I lived here on the street, and sometimes took shelter in an abandoned building not far from here. Every year, when the soldiers marched through the streets, I would watch them through my window. I admired them and wanted nothing more than to be one of them. Then when I was nine, I was allowed to stand in the crowd and watch them. I couldn't see because all of the noblemen who were to stand at the front were much taller. I tried to push my way through. The noblemen didn't want anything to do with the lower class, the parentless and homeless street urchins. I was pushed and shuffled around until I was finally thrown into the street, right in front of a white horse. It reared up and there he was - the colonel. The sunlight was shining behind him and he looked so dashing and heroic. He steadied the horse, lept down, and put me on the saddle. The rest of the parade, he led that horse around with me on it. I admired him even more. Then afterward, he took me into his home. I was taught to read and write, among other things. I was given a real rich upbringing. The same day I learned to shift, was the same day his horse was killed in battle. That's why I chose a white horse. The cat," John chuckled nostalgically, "was the cook's. He caught mice for us and always sat in my lap."
A tear fell from John's eye as he remembered. "He can't die," he said quietly, "He's a good man. He just can't die..." |
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Posted: Sat Feb 11, 2012 4:34 am
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Keira embraced him and it made the situation feel more real that it ever had. He held her tightly as he shook with greif and clenched his teeth together. When she finally pulled away, he had better control of himself, though a few tears were still escaping. He promptly turned into a cat and curled up on the seat of his chair.
It was then that he made the decision - if Henry died, John would do everything in his power to protect Keira and see that she was happy and safe. He would not let Henry's death be in vain. The day's exhaustion caught up with him. He struggled against the dark void of sleep, but eventually surrendered to his subconcious.
He was free from greif for now.
He was walking through a hallway with floor to ceiling windows on one side. At the end of the hallway was a beautiful ballroom with marbled floors. There was Henry, playing piano, Keira next to him, peeling an orange. They both looked up when he came in. Keira smiled and called his name, Henry simply smiled at him warmly and continued playing. He caught sight of his reflection in an ornate mirror on the wall - he was dressed in the finest clothing and looked every bit the part of a nobleman. He smiled. He was suddenly aware that the music had stopped. He turned around to see them both standing there. Henry embraced him, "My son," he said, "Welcome home!" Keira shyly offered him half of her orange. He accepted, bowing his head. He had never felt so happy... |
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Posted: Sun Feb 12, 2012 10:09 am
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John awoke to a man's loud cry of agony. Henry's back was arched off the table, his whole body shaking in pain. He collapsed back onto the table just as John shifted and rushed to his side. The colonel's eyes were glazed over, unseeing. He watched as they slowly became clear again and noted the captain was drenched and ice cold. Henry's eyes found John's face. "John," he said softly. He closed his eyes and lay there, breathing heavily.
John wiped tears from his eyes and clasped his hands. "I'm here, sir. I'm right here. You'll be okay. I promise." He watched his labored breathing. "Will he be okay," he asked the healer.
"Oh, he'll be fine. He's just exhaused. He's had a long journey. We'll let him rest, then get some food and drink in him. He should make a quick recovery." John fell to the floor in stunned relief.
Thank the gods! He's alive, he thought to himself happily, He's alive! He felt Keira behind him and reached for her hand cautiously. "Thank you, Keira," he said, gratitude flooding his voice. "Thank you, more than I can express."
He silently cursed the return of his accent for the second time that night. |
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Posted: Sun Feb 12, 2012 10:30 am
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John nodded. "It's just... easier to deal with when you are an animal. Greif becomes detatched, jealousy is pretty much gone... It's just not as painful. Animals can sort their emotions easily. They're not as complex as humans, feeling so many contradicting emotions at the same time. And my accent... It doesn't sound very noble and proper," he looked up at Henry, "Not like the colonel's..." He trailed off and slowly stood, walking back toward the chair. "I wish I was more like him - noble, powerful, heroic... He's such a good man. I just wish I could be that way. Better than my birthright."
He sat down with a heavy sigh and burried his face in his hands. He didn't know what to expect next, but he knew the colonel would be asleep for several hours. He straightened up and turned to Keira. "How would you like to go to the carnival with me? To take our mind off of things? The captain will send for us if we are needed, and we can get cleaned up and changed at a shop I know. Come on, it'll be fun," he said with a smile.
He stood and offered his arm once more. |
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Posted: Sun Feb 12, 2012 3:06 pm
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John led her from the room and into the cobbled streets. They came upon a small shop. Candles were lit in the lamp hanging by the shop door and the display window showed masks, old leather bound books, satin pouches, and various glass orbs and scales. The window display had a curtain backdrop, keeping anyone from seeing into the shop. He walked up the stone steps; a sign on the door said "Open". He turned the brass handle and led Keira inside.
They stepped into a room lit by another roaring fireplace. Mirrors were positioned everywhere, masks and other odd ends were littered upon every surface. Boxes and drawers were spilling over with fine clothes. A woman entered from another room. "Welcome, welcome! Oh," she said, startled at their appearance. "Well, don't you worry dears. We'll get you all cleaned up for the carnival. Names," she asked, opening a large book and dipping a quill into an ink well. "This is Keira... um... just Keira. And I'm John Harcourt," he told her. She glanced up from her writing. "John? Oh, Johnny boy! I remember you when you were just a child. You'd come in here with that dashing soldier and get all fixed up for the carnival! How good it is to see you again," she said, grasping his hand and shaking it enthusiastically. "Blue it is for you! And for you my dear," she said turning to Keira, "I see red suits you quite well. Come along. John, you know what to do."
She led Keira into a sperate room off to the right, filled with hats, various fabrics, heavy clothing, jewelry, bits and baubles, masks, and more. She closed the curtain over the doorway and began her work. John picked a few items of blue clothing, matching midnight blue cloak, and an ornate silver and blue mask and entered another curtained room to the left. He poured a pitcher of hot water from the side of yet another fireplace (No wonder the shop is so warm, he thought, wiping sweat from his brow) and poured it into a basin. Taking a rag from a hook, he washed up thoroughly and scented himself with a bottle next to the basin. Next, he leaned over the basin and washed and combed his hair. Once he looked and smelled his finest, he began to change. He finished quickly, despite all the fastenings on his outfit and tied on his mask. He entered the main room once more, set his old clothes on the table to be washed, dried, and sent to him in packages, then sat on a stool to wait for Keira to finish. |
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Posted: Mon Feb 13, 2012 10:01 am
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John stood as Keira entered with the shop keeper - Madeline, he recalled. "Alright dears," she said to them, "I'll clean, repair, and send along your things. Where are you staying?"
"We're at Captain Munroe's for the meantime, ma'am," John told her, handing over a fistfull of gold and silver coins. She put them into her pouch and scribbled down the location by their names. "Looks like you're all set. You two enjoy the carnival! It's almost time for the fairies to come out."
She waved them from their shop and John steered Keira toward the trees to the heart of the carnival. "The fairies are a bit hard to spot. They look like humans, but they have giant glittering wings. It's hard to see the wings though. They're almost invisible and the fairies are great at tricks and disguises. Keep alert, Death Dealer," he told her with a chuckle. The passed through clusters of merry, red faced (and somewhat intoxicated) masked men and women. Finally they reached a great bonfire in a clearing. It was surrounded by a stage with live performers, tables and tables of food, lanterns, dancing people, and booths of games and souvenieers. "Welcome to your first carnival, Keira," he told her, delighting at the look of awe on her face.
"Would you care to dance?" |
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