Writing post 9
Title: Of revenge
Series: D'Amantru (RPG/Owner's series)
Rating: R (Violence)
Word count: 1049
His chest heaved and his heart pounded. His padded feet made nary a sound as he sprinted through the tall grass up to the crest of the hill. He was almost home. He was finally almost home. The powerful Feln stumbled to a halt upon reaching the hill’s peak, his eyes wide at the sight that greeted him. It was not the peaceful village that he’d grown up in and played about. It was a raging inferno, One man standing in front of the blaze, watching it all.
Dren jolted awake with a muffled yell, his arms tucked around his head keeping the full spread of the noise from escaping him. Rolling onto his back and sitting up, he rubbed his face with his hands, ears flattened against his head as he tried to calm himself down. It’d only been a dream. Just a dream. It wasn’t real, there’s no way that the hunter could’ve known where his home was. Taking his hands away from his face, he sighed and let them fall into his lap, glancing over at the bed.
Maltia wasn’t moving, thankfully. Her eyes were open either. His muffled yell hadn’t disturbed her at all, or if it had, she wasn’t showing it. He’d ask about it later on. For now, he had to attempt to go back to sleep, he had a fight later that day. Curling up on the rug again, he pulled his blanket back over himself and drifted back off into an empty sleep.
Many hours later, Dren stood under the blazing midday sun, his armor and weapons gleaming as he waited for his opponent to be brought out. It was a fight like any other, sword, shield, armor, thundering crowd, dusty arena floor. Another day in the life, as the humans said. Or, it seemed that would be the case.
His whiskers twitched as his opponent was led out by heavily armed guards, shackles clamped around his wrists and ankles. It wasn’t often he fought prisoners. So today would be an execution, it seemed. Sighing to himself, Dren adjusted his helmet. He always hated having to do this. It seemed like a chore since the convicted party always fought like a crazed lunatic with no real focus. It was, he hated to admit, a waste of his talents.
Something clicked after studying the convict as his shackles were removed and a weapon was given to him.
“...I know you.”
“I should care? Tons of people know me.”
“YOU TOOK MY LIFE AWAY FROM ME!” The Feln thundered, his voice echoing above the chatter of the crowd. Hearing those words, all spectators quickly fell silent, gazes locked on the two combatants.
“...Eh? Oh, wait, I remember you now. You’re the Feln I used to make a quick buck. You sold for a really high price kid, kept me from starving. Y’got my thanks.”
“I don’t want your thanks, scum.”
The man shrugged at Dren’s words, not caring one way or another. Even if the Feln warrior had survived for so long where he was, he felt like he’d still win. He was a hunter and a vampire after all, seemed like he had the upper hand. He even felt more confident of this when Dren removed his armor and tossed it aside, carrying only his shield and sword.
Dren made the first move, holding his shield up in a guard as he held his sword low and off to the side of his body, spinning it in his hand. Arcing in toward the hunter’s left side, the vampire’s first strike was easily shrugged off by Dren’s equally immense strength bracing behind the shield, his sword swung upwards in a clean arc that cleaved his right arm in two, the hunter now, quite literally, disarmed.
The hunter was in shock of the willingness of the boy to bring harm upon him. He had been a fighter even back then, but his killer instinct had been amplified. Something he realized far too late as the curved and blunt section of the shield slammed into his gut, causing him to double over as the wind was knocked out of him, a sharp blow to the back of his head causing him to crumple to the ground.
He could feel his head spinning as he was lifted back up off the ground. Coughing as he tried to refocus his vision, he gave a weak smirk down at the blurry Feln holding him aloft.
“Pissed ya off that much?”
“Yes.” Taking hold of the hunter’s left arm, Dren bent it one way to break it, took hold of it in another spot and bent it in the opposite direction to break it again, and finally took hold of the base of his arm, pulling it from its socket. With one final yank, the hunter howled in pain as his arm was torn completely off and tossed aside. This was brutal. It wasn’t a fight anymore, it was a one-sided slaughter. And the crowd loved it. It was a bloodbath at its finest, soaked in the rage of revenge.
Staggering as he was released down onto his feet, he suddenly felt blood pooling in his mouth as Dren’s claws raked across his chest, slicing through his ribs and vital organs like they were paper. Unable to stand from losing so much blood, the hunter fell to his knees, coughing and sputtering as his executioner towered over him. He couldn’t speak, say even a few last words. But then he should’ve expected this. He let his ego get in the way of his judgment, making him overconfident.
He could barely hear the crowd anymore. Tilting his head back so he could match Dren’s murderous gaze, he mouthed ‘Finish it’ to him, letting his eyes fall closed. All too happy to oblige, Dren’s body lurched forward and his jaws clamped down on the vampire’s neck, his body snapping up and around. His throat tore free easily and his body sailed through the air, the hunter landing on his head and settling in a crumpled heap. Dren spat the remnants of the man’s throat out and held his arms out at his sides, roaring at the top of his lungs, his mighty cries mixing in with the thundering of the crowd.
Series: D'Amantru (RPG/Owner's series)
Rating: R (Violence)
Word count: 1049
His chest heaved and his heart pounded. His padded feet made nary a sound as he sprinted through the tall grass up to the crest of the hill. He was almost home. He was finally almost home. The powerful Feln stumbled to a halt upon reaching the hill’s peak, his eyes wide at the sight that greeted him. It was not the peaceful village that he’d grown up in and played about. It was a raging inferno, One man standing in front of the blaze, watching it all.
Dren jolted awake with a muffled yell, his arms tucked around his head keeping the full spread of the noise from escaping him. Rolling onto his back and sitting up, he rubbed his face with his hands, ears flattened against his head as he tried to calm himself down. It’d only been a dream. Just a dream. It wasn’t real, there’s no way that the hunter could’ve known where his home was. Taking his hands away from his face, he sighed and let them fall into his lap, glancing over at the bed.
Maltia wasn’t moving, thankfully. Her eyes were open either. His muffled yell hadn’t disturbed her at all, or if it had, she wasn’t showing it. He’d ask about it later on. For now, he had to attempt to go back to sleep, he had a fight later that day. Curling up on the rug again, he pulled his blanket back over himself and drifted back off into an empty sleep.
Many hours later, Dren stood under the blazing midday sun, his armor and weapons gleaming as he waited for his opponent to be brought out. It was a fight like any other, sword, shield, armor, thundering crowd, dusty arena floor. Another day in the life, as the humans said. Or, it seemed that would be the case.
His whiskers twitched as his opponent was led out by heavily armed guards, shackles clamped around his wrists and ankles. It wasn’t often he fought prisoners. So today would be an execution, it seemed. Sighing to himself, Dren adjusted his helmet. He always hated having to do this. It seemed like a chore since the convicted party always fought like a crazed lunatic with no real focus. It was, he hated to admit, a waste of his talents.
Something clicked after studying the convict as his shackles were removed and a weapon was given to him.
“...I know you.”
“I should care? Tons of people know me.”
“YOU TOOK MY LIFE AWAY FROM ME!” The Feln thundered, his voice echoing above the chatter of the crowd. Hearing those words, all spectators quickly fell silent, gazes locked on the two combatants.
“...Eh? Oh, wait, I remember you now. You’re the Feln I used to make a quick buck. You sold for a really high price kid, kept me from starving. Y’got my thanks.”
“I don’t want your thanks, scum.”
The man shrugged at Dren’s words, not caring one way or another. Even if the Feln warrior had survived for so long where he was, he felt like he’d still win. He was a hunter and a vampire after all, seemed like he had the upper hand. He even felt more confident of this when Dren removed his armor and tossed it aside, carrying only his shield and sword.
Dren made the first move, holding his shield up in a guard as he held his sword low and off to the side of his body, spinning it in his hand. Arcing in toward the hunter’s left side, the vampire’s first strike was easily shrugged off by Dren’s equally immense strength bracing behind the shield, his sword swung upwards in a clean arc that cleaved his right arm in two, the hunter now, quite literally, disarmed.
The hunter was in shock of the willingness of the boy to bring harm upon him. He had been a fighter even back then, but his killer instinct had been amplified. Something he realized far too late as the curved and blunt section of the shield slammed into his gut, causing him to double over as the wind was knocked out of him, a sharp blow to the back of his head causing him to crumple to the ground.
He could feel his head spinning as he was lifted back up off the ground. Coughing as he tried to refocus his vision, he gave a weak smirk down at the blurry Feln holding him aloft.
“Pissed ya off that much?”
“Yes.” Taking hold of the hunter’s left arm, Dren bent it one way to break it, took hold of it in another spot and bent it in the opposite direction to break it again, and finally took hold of the base of his arm, pulling it from its socket. With one final yank, the hunter howled in pain as his arm was torn completely off and tossed aside. This was brutal. It wasn’t a fight anymore, it was a one-sided slaughter. And the crowd loved it. It was a bloodbath at its finest, soaked in the rage of revenge.
Staggering as he was released down onto his feet, he suddenly felt blood pooling in his mouth as Dren’s claws raked across his chest, slicing through his ribs and vital organs like they were paper. Unable to stand from losing so much blood, the hunter fell to his knees, coughing and sputtering as his executioner towered over him. He couldn’t speak, say even a few last words. But then he should’ve expected this. He let his ego get in the way of his judgment, making him overconfident.
He could barely hear the crowd anymore. Tilting his head back so he could match Dren’s murderous gaze, he mouthed ‘Finish it’ to him, letting his eyes fall closed. All too happy to oblige, Dren’s body lurched forward and his jaws clamped down on the vampire’s neck, his body snapping up and around. His throat tore free easily and his body sailed through the air, the hunter landing on his head and settling in a crumpled heap. Dren spat the remnants of the man’s throat out and held his arms out at his sides, roaring at the top of his lungs, his mighty cries mixing in with the thundering of the crowd.