It's quite a long time since I've written anything. This one came to me in a dream/nightmare. If anyone would like to help with editing, I'm horrible with that, and formattig drop me an email. Or just send one to let me know what you think.
General disclaimers apply. Not your thing? Bye. Too young? Seeya. Suitable for +18/21 only depending on where you are. It's all fiction guys.
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"In this godless land bitter winters are the only certainty, that and the evil that festers in the hearts of men." - Anonymous.
"The war is over. Rivers of blood shall nourish this place for years to come. From this day on the cries of women and men alike will echo in these forests, suffocating with cropse upon defiled corpse it will die off. These spineless creatures stood no chance against us.No one can stand against The Gru'Q. It was two cycles ago that we seized our chance to overrun their lands. We spread out and consumed their entire empire. They became soft. Nothing like the legends of fierce warriors with emmense power-The Great Empire of The Northern Star. They had forgotten. Forgotten the reason they first learned to fear the night. That we are far more than tales they could scare their children with-"
"Oh shut up, Trauk. Your overzealous rambling might actually spoil my lust tonight."
"Ha! Your lust has never been spoiled before, Raot."
"You might succeed in changing that. Just finish packing your gear so we can leave. I have grown tired of these lands. Too much sun." The smaller of the two creatures says as he finishes with his bundle, "High Lord Taurin has commanded we move with the troops to the mountain tunnels east of here and return home quickly."
"I can agree, Raot. This place is not meant for our kind." The larger creature moves and quickly gathers his things and ties his bundle.
"The other camps have already moved and it's just us tonight, Trauk. Surrounded by all these ripe specimens just waiting to be plicked."
The sun sets as the pale green skinned companions remove their protecting visors revealing even paler eyes of a milky-gray composition. Their helmets clunkon the forest floor. Brutish, angular faces with sharp striking features and bald heads grin at each other. Their fangs glint in the twilight and they crack their necks. The smaller one, the size of a normal human, snifs the air and bares his fangs even more. The taller hulking muscled one follows suite. The canopy is silenced anew as if becomming aware of the presence of the monsters for the first time.
"I can smell them, Trauk. Ripe for the picking."
"As can I. It's time to pay this village a visit."
Snow starts falling as the last light of day fades and the sky fills with bats. Tonight will be a cold one.
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They came out of the nowhere. At first it was small attacks on the outer towns and villages. It had been at least 190 cycles since the last reported sighting of a Gru'Q. We call them Ravagers. Then came the hordes from the Northern Peakes. They sent thousands upon thousands to battle. Only to disable the empire, according to Ranvir the old village commander. A show of force and revenge for long forgotten wars. They took the men first then pillaged the villages, raping and abusing the women and children. The elders and royal advisors did not expect anything. We were in an era of peace. No civil disputes nor wars with the Eastern Continent Forces. So there was no need for soldiers to be trained. The last generation of fighters were well into their 70th cycle. Only a few fighters, those who chose to learn out of curiosity, were young enough for battle. They were called to the royal palace when the attacks were confirmed as legitimate. Five hundred and sixty five warriors in the empire against an enemy vastly stronger. Teams of twenty to were sent to each provincial capitol. Everyone fled to the Khoudzia. The capitol was overcrowded now many rumours were saying. Most of them did not make it and those who stayed behind in their villages were abandoned. We were on our own.
"Ma-Luce! Ma-Luce! Jaurn keeps pincing my hips!" A curly haired boy hollers as he scampers into the kitchen, breaking Lucile out of one her contemplative moods. The older woman pushes some unruly strands of her long gray mane behind her left ear. She smiles down at the tiny boy.
"It's okay, Sweetie. Jaurn you'd better leave little Vollo alone!" She yells towards the living room.
"Yes Ma," Came the weak reply
Vollo makes himself comfortable at the table and with a wide saphire gaze smiles up at her. He reaches out and touches her left cheek. She leans over and squeezes him tight. He smiles and kisses her on the cheek.
"What's the time, Vollo?"
"It's almost 7 o'clock. It's almost bedtime." He squeaks out.
"That's right. Go get everyone and lets head down." She gets up and starts putting out the lamps. Vollo jumps down and struts towards the living room yelling with every step.
"It's bedtime everyone, Ma-Luce says we have to head down!"
Joy filled laughter and conversations can be heard coming from the living room. Then some groans and scuffling as all the children start moving to the kitchen. Everyone arrives and Lucile is greeted by the faces of twelve children, five girls and seven boys of ages ranging from six to seventeen. Each face is as diferent from the other as can be imagined, except for the two sets of twins. Lucile pulls herself to her full one hundred and eighty nine centimeters.
"Alright children you know the routine. Teens help the little ones first, then the Mids and finally we'll go down."
"Yes, Ma," A chorus answers.
Everyone starts moving down the hall. They open a door in the floorboards and the little ones file down into the basement. This is the same routine she has followed since she started taking in children. Their parents were either killed, missing or in a same place somewhere. The evacuations were a mess and so many peole were left behind.
She knows exactly what is out there. What lurks in the shadows waiting for a chance to pounce. As a girl her grandfather and father told her stories of the beasts from the north, living in the highland forrests. This village has not had an attack in a while and she knows it's only a matter of time. These creatures are nothing if not persistant.
Bang! The hinges rattle on the front door.
"They're here." She whispers, " Orien, you barred the front door?"
"Yes, Ma." The oldest child replies. His shouldier length mop of raven hair glints and his deep brown eyes look at his mother in fear.
"Good, now go down and you lock that door."
"But Ma, you need to come down too."
"No Orien, I need to be up here tonight. These ones are stronger than the others." She removes her evening robe revealing a intricately designed suite of armour. She gracefully ties her hair up in a single bun, "If things don't go well up here you must do what I told you, you must."
"Yes, Ma." The teen gapes at the woman. Reluctant to leave her side at first he enters the basement knowing it's better not to argue and barrs the door.
Bang! The door rattles again.
She curses herself for being so naive. She should have put wards up in case creatures as strong as these ones were to find them. Finally the door is ripped apart with a green burst of energy. It splinters and smoulders on the floor and two sets of boots clank as they enter.
"Where are the children, Ugly?" Raot growls at Lucile.
"Where you won't find them, Scum." Lucile sets herself in a solid stance. Moonlight streaming through the doorway illuminates the scars up her torso, neck and the left side of her face.
"Move aside and you won't ne harmed. We do not want old, tough, dry meat." Trauk spits at her.
"Trust me, you are not getting anything tonight." Lucile starts to chanting and makes small circles with her hands.
"Oh, we have a witch!" Raot says as he clasps his hands together. "Muttering an old protection ward, are we?"
"I'll break that in ten seconds." Trauk grins.
"Enough talk. Die!" Lucile lunges forward pulling two sabres from her back swoops down on Raot. They seem unaware of her advance. She slices into his neck and retreats to her starting position.
Raot clutches his neck and groans. Trauk looks stunned and gathers himself for an attack.
"She's been well trained. Watch out."
Trauk flings his arms up and bright blue flames burst out of his hands barreling down the hallway heading straight towards Lucile. She quickly crosses her arms in front of her and the flames die out. Raot whose neck has healed quickly, gains his composure and grabs his throwing daggers. He launces five in quick succession. She dodges the first three, but the last two impale her upper left arm. Blood spurts out rhythmically and stains the walls. Lucile quikcly covers the wound with her right hand closes her eyes and whispers a few words.
"Nice, she's giving us a go, isn't she?" Trauk readies himself for a last attack. Raot falls into step behind beside him.
"You might have stood a chance if you were facing footsoldiers, woman. But we're commanders and have trained for far longer than you've been alive."
They advance rapidly and Lucile uses the last of her remaining strength to conjure a lightning ball. Trauk unsheathes his broadsword and flings it at her stomach. As it embeds itself in her bowel the lightning bolt brusts and electrifies the whole first floor. Trauk and Raot fall to the floor writing in pain. Lucile's cropse hits the floorboards with a dull thud and lies still, her eyes filled with a glassy gaze on the basement door.
Blood pools silently beneath her.
A few minutes pass filled with deathly silence and the sporadic creaking of the house. Trauk is the first to regain consiousness. He checks the surroundings to see if there was anyone else in the house.
"We need to finish this before dawn." He manages to croak out. He kicks Raot, "Get up!"
Trauk grabs Lucile by her braid, pulls out his broadsword and tosses her aside. He studies the door and begins the counter ward.
"She was good, old and weak, but good." Trauk exhales, "This might take awhile."
Raot pulls himself upright and sniffs the air. He looks around and frowns.
"Trauk wait, I don't smell them anymore."
"Don't be fooled. She added concealment elements to the ward."
A deep crimson glow emenates from Trauk's arms and hands and spills out on the floor like a pulsing fog. It gathers around the basement door and seeps inside.
"There we go. Now lets get started."
The door flings open and golden flames lick out engulfing both of them. They stumble back in pain and shock. Three figures emerge from the basement.
"Orien, we can't fight them." A blondhaired girl says flicking her hair back.
"I know Amara, but we can slow them enough for the rest to reach Ranvir. Good concussion flames by the way." He replies eyeing the stumbling creatures. "Thiem can you blind them?"
The silent thrid child gazes at Trauk and Raot. He looks crippled by fear but puts on a brave face. His delicate eyes are pure darkness and hair glows white in the darkened hallway.
"I believe so."
His slim frame dips low and he raises his hands at the monsters and utters a single word.
"Darkness."
As Trauk and Raot were about to return fire they went blind. The woman had taught the children some spells, Trauk thought. Pity they had to die. Especially the white haired one.
"Very good, children. But not good enough." Trauk rumbles and moves his hands to his eyes.
He touches his eyelids and opens them suddenly Amara's body rises into the air and starts seizing up. Orien jumps in front of her and a rapid series of blue energy blasts fly out of his chest heading straight towards the creatures. On contact they freeze the creatures.
The house is silent and the teens stare at each other. Suddenly both Trauk and Raot begin the move. Amara screams and she's is ripped apart, her torso is flung backwards hitting the far wall. As Orien's mouth opens to scream he is silenced with a single green beam through his forehead.
"No underestimating this time." Raot states simply. Both creatures turn to the whispy boy left standing.
"He looks young, Trauk. He looks delicious. It looks like we will have share tonight. "
"Oh yes, I will have him first." Trauk grins.
Thiem realizes that it's too late and he can't do anything to save himself. He hopes that the others made it to the commander. As Trauk raises his left hand Thiem is lifted off the floor and his clothes disintegrate from his body leaving his young nude form prone to the monsters. Raot looks down into the basement and finds it empty. He roars in anger and sets his sights on Thiem. Thiem tries to muster a counter spell for protection, but he can't move a muscle. The creatures cackle and jeer at him. A single tear runs down his cheek and Trauk licks it off. Trauk and Raot's clothes disintegrate as well and as the boy's gaze inadvertantly falls downwards his whole body tenses and he starts weeping. Trauk leans over his left shoulder and whispers.
"Your ours now..."
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Out of breath Ranvir stumbles through the doorway. The sight that greets his eyes cause him to rect violently. The corpse of his good friend's daughter in a pool of blood. Two beautiful children and promising young fighters dead next to her and finally...
He races to Thiem's side. The boy tried to crawl toward the door but couldn't manage. He's barely alive. Blood as well as something else is seeping out of his anus. The stench is unbearable. He is bruised all over his pale skin and his eyes are so swollen that Ranvir cannot even see them. As he touches the boy, Thiem convulses and yelps out loud. Groaning the boy tries to crawl away from the source of the touching.
"It's me, Thiem. It's Ranvir. You're safe now." Ranvir clutches the boy tightly and starts weeping. Why hadn't he stayed with Lucile that night? Why didn't he and his wife come over and help? Though in his heart he knows that his presence wouldn't have made a diference. If Lucile coudn't handle this what chance did an eighty five cycle old man have?
Dawn breaks in the horizon and Thiem's body fills with life. He immediately starts breathing normally and Ranvir backs off in shock. He had only ever seen this once before. Thiem's body is surrounded by an orange glow. The swelling on his eyes reduces and he opens them for a brief second. Just enough that Ranvir sees that a golden hue has replaced the boy's once pitch black irisses.
To be continued