Post by Ladd Russo of the Russo Family on Feb 1, 2010 18:31:23 GMT -5
(Note: I was trying to write this in a kind of Biblical style, concentrating on rhythm and memorable sentence structure. It is going to be more action and dialogue heavy, and (this was especially hard for me) not go very far into the characters' thought process. Very 'on the surface'. Also, I cannot think of a better term to describe Belrial's voice except for 'sultry', which doesn't do it justice. XD)
Now it came to be that Asehrai met a demon on the plains of Fareth, and he was alone. The demon was called Belrial, and so evil and great was he that never before had his feet touched this earth, for it was beneath him. He was fair beyond the beauty of any elf, and the awe of it might have overcome Asehrai, had he been another man. But Asehrai was of a people that were for centuries hunters of demons. Theirs was the speed and strength beyond any of their fellow humans, and they had the ability of lasting days without rest or food. They were called vampyres, and all of the earth praised them. And of all the vampyres, Asehrai was the greatest.
Though Asehrai stood before a daeholder second only to the King of the Damned, he was not prepared for such a battle, if indeed any mortal man could be. Believing the land safe, he had been traveling with only a crossbow.
“Asehrai,” said the demon, in a voice that was powerful in its calm, booming in its languid hush. “Even in Hell the creature of darkness lament thy name, and thy people have become the bane of mine.”
Though threatened, Asehrai held his courage and did not move, for all knew that demons found pleasure in fear. The hero Asehrai knew them that he would die, but his courage burned all the stronger. To relent was to betray his people and the dream years upheld.
The demon was angered when his enemy neither bowed nor fled, but he did not rage. No, the terrible beauty of the monster instead grew, until despairingly Asehrai found that all else was ugly and abhorrent, save for the dark creature before him. Still he resisted, only hating the demon for his majesty, for Asehrai would never see his wife as fair again.
Then the sky scabbed over with nightmares, and a Hellish gale broke upon him. Though he could still behold the fairness of the demon, he now saw a nocturne beast as well, standing where it stood and moving as it moved, and raw bloody terror dripped from its fangs. Horror nestled like boring worms in its gaze, a parasitic weapon delivered unto him. Asehrai was consumed with fear as he had never known. He saw Hell before him, his family damned and screaming, his companions butchered and raped. He saw himself, every flaw laid bare and allowed to fester. He saw himself but crueler, laughing and joining in the betrayal. Terror tore him, for in his heart he knew the demon had the power to make it so. And all the while, the demon’s beauty grew, ripping Asehrai’s mind and turning his stomach.
Tears shook unspilt in his eyes, but Asehrai stood firm. He closed his gaze, feeling the warmth of loyalty buried inside him, and he kept the faces of his beloved in his sight. Asehrai entrusted to the Keeper his soul, and for it he feared no evil.
“Why dost thou avert thy gaze?” asked the demon. “Could it be that thou art Held in fear of me?”
“Nothing you have may threaten me, demon,” Asehrai said then, looking upon his enemy in all its awful majesty. “I have taken the oath of my people, and walk with God.” His words were loud and sang across the plain, as the storm around him struggled and roared. Asehrai raised the crossbow in his hand and fired defiance at the demon, and though his form was straight and unbending, he knew in his heart of hearts that he would perish.
The bolt left the weapon, but it was Asehrai that felt the sting of a blood wound. His feet left the ground, and hot agony seared from his neck. The demon’s fingers had buried inside his flesh and held him doll-like in the air, and flood flowed from the broken skin. Choking and drowning on his life, Asehrai glared into the demon’s eyes so placid and blue.
“Forsake thy God, Asehrai. He is not here to save thee. Come to Hell and I will spare thee, spare thy people the punishment they deserve,” the demon said, words delivered so slowly and surely that they soothed as a balm soothed in irresistible assurance.
“God will judge our punishment,” said Asehrai, and the storm moaned.
“Thou art a fool. And because of it, thou shalt never see God.”
And a curse darker than blackest night flooded into Asehrai from the hand that held him. Cold took the place of warmth, and his life drained from him into the demon’s tightening grasp. In Asehrai’s heart there was the fear of death, and its weakness trembled in his limbs. His brain numbed and his dark eyes began to close in weariness. Only his defiance did not wane, and the demon saw this.
“Thy people art also damned, and it is because of thee.” The taunt was uttered to dishearten Asehrai, and it did, for he lamented that his people should suffer. But it also reminded him of the will of his people, and gave him a fluttering, dying strength.
“The sun abhors you demon, you hide from it with storms. We shall not submit,” said Asehrai. There was horror in his heart, for it had stopped its beat. Though weariness and pain wove their fibers through him, he was awake still. Asehrai had become one of the dead, and only his defiance did not wane.
“I hide from nothing,” said the demon, and the storm parted above them to produce a single ray of light.
“Nay, you do hide. You hide from the people of this world. You are leeches and upon humankind you feed; blind, writhing, hateful. And still, though you may force it look upon your face, the Light of God abhors you. We shall not submit.”
“Thou art insolent to a Lord of all things,” said Belrial, and though no anger tainted his voice, it drew up around him in the form of bloodiest rage. Complacently, as a grown man would talk to the dumb animals of the earth, he spoke. “It is you that shalt repulse the sun, and ever you shalt sear at the sight of it. The Light of your beloved Lord shalt be death.” Asehrai gasped, for the sunlight on his face had become as fire, and he would have burned if the clouds had not then closed.
“We shall not submit,” said Asehrai softly.
“You speak of leeches. If it is as you say, then I share with thee the hunger of the demons.” The daeholder Belrial took Asehrai’s mouth in his own and, despite his victim’s struggles, delivered a kiss. Asehrai cried out, for his third-teeth grew sharp and filled with unholy longing.
“We shall not submit,” he whispered.
“You shall be my force of corruption upon this land that has attempted to defy me. Do not forget. Long to serve me, Asehrai. Always long. Your flesh now repulses God. One day, demonhunter, so shall your entire being.” The demon smiled. “O hunter of demons, thou art now a hunter of man.” Asehrai was enveloped in nothingness, and he thought no more.
Then the sun was set, and a woman called Aririn heard a cry in the night. She lit a torch and left her farm. She walked out into her fields and was surprised to feel the give of sand beneath her feet. For though she knew it not, the force of the conflict between Asehrai and Belrial had blasted away Fareth’s fertile plains until all was shifting dust.
She came upon Asehrai by his sobs in the dark, his form bent by pain and madness. Pain and madness are ever the gifts of demons. The woman knew the face of Asehrai, but she did not know the man before her. He was beautiful beyond the fairness of the fey, and even in his grief there was grace. Belrial had recreated all of vampyre in his image.
She attempted to comfort the man. His face was as pale as death, his eyes as lost, his skin as cold. Thinking him mortally injured, she turned so as to find help. Asehrai killed her as a beast kills, ripping into her neck and mindlessly lapping at her blood. It was his darkest time.
Indeed, it was so for all of his people, and in only a night the world learned to curse the name ‘vampyre’. As Belrial had said, his people suffered his same doom. The madness that Held them soon subsided, but only after it was quenched in cities of blood. The curse of Belrial spread like a sickness, corrupting all the people of non-vampyran descent if they survived an attack. This night was called the Night of Unending Cries, or Yengxianochen, and it was remembered until the world ended and a another began. The name of Asehrai’s people, despite world’s end and endless atonement, was forever stained.
Now it came to be that Asehrai met a demon on the plains of Fareth, and he was alone. The demon was called Belrial, and so evil and great was he that never before had his feet touched this earth, for it was beneath him. He was fair beyond the beauty of any elf, and the awe of it might have overcome Asehrai, had he been another man. But Asehrai was of a people that were for centuries hunters of demons. Theirs was the speed and strength beyond any of their fellow humans, and they had the ability of lasting days without rest or food. They were called vampyres, and all of the earth praised them. And of all the vampyres, Asehrai was the greatest.
Though Asehrai stood before a daeholder second only to the King of the Damned, he was not prepared for such a battle, if indeed any mortal man could be. Believing the land safe, he had been traveling with only a crossbow.
“Asehrai,” said the demon, in a voice that was powerful in its calm, booming in its languid hush. “Even in Hell the creature of darkness lament thy name, and thy people have become the bane of mine.”
Though threatened, Asehrai held his courage and did not move, for all knew that demons found pleasure in fear. The hero Asehrai knew them that he would die, but his courage burned all the stronger. To relent was to betray his people and the dream years upheld.
The demon was angered when his enemy neither bowed nor fled, but he did not rage. No, the terrible beauty of the monster instead grew, until despairingly Asehrai found that all else was ugly and abhorrent, save for the dark creature before him. Still he resisted, only hating the demon for his majesty, for Asehrai would never see his wife as fair again.
Then the sky scabbed over with nightmares, and a Hellish gale broke upon him. Though he could still behold the fairness of the demon, he now saw a nocturne beast as well, standing where it stood and moving as it moved, and raw bloody terror dripped from its fangs. Horror nestled like boring worms in its gaze, a parasitic weapon delivered unto him. Asehrai was consumed with fear as he had never known. He saw Hell before him, his family damned and screaming, his companions butchered and raped. He saw himself, every flaw laid bare and allowed to fester. He saw himself but crueler, laughing and joining in the betrayal. Terror tore him, for in his heart he knew the demon had the power to make it so. And all the while, the demon’s beauty grew, ripping Asehrai’s mind and turning his stomach.
Tears shook unspilt in his eyes, but Asehrai stood firm. He closed his gaze, feeling the warmth of loyalty buried inside him, and he kept the faces of his beloved in his sight. Asehrai entrusted to the Keeper his soul, and for it he feared no evil.
“Why dost thou avert thy gaze?” asked the demon. “Could it be that thou art Held in fear of me?”
“Nothing you have may threaten me, demon,” Asehrai said then, looking upon his enemy in all its awful majesty. “I have taken the oath of my people, and walk with God.” His words were loud and sang across the plain, as the storm around him struggled and roared. Asehrai raised the crossbow in his hand and fired defiance at the demon, and though his form was straight and unbending, he knew in his heart of hearts that he would perish.
The bolt left the weapon, but it was Asehrai that felt the sting of a blood wound. His feet left the ground, and hot agony seared from his neck. The demon’s fingers had buried inside his flesh and held him doll-like in the air, and flood flowed from the broken skin. Choking and drowning on his life, Asehrai glared into the demon’s eyes so placid and blue.
“Forsake thy God, Asehrai. He is not here to save thee. Come to Hell and I will spare thee, spare thy people the punishment they deserve,” the demon said, words delivered so slowly and surely that they soothed as a balm soothed in irresistible assurance.
“God will judge our punishment,” said Asehrai, and the storm moaned.
“Thou art a fool. And because of it, thou shalt never see God.”
And a curse darker than blackest night flooded into Asehrai from the hand that held him. Cold took the place of warmth, and his life drained from him into the demon’s tightening grasp. In Asehrai’s heart there was the fear of death, and its weakness trembled in his limbs. His brain numbed and his dark eyes began to close in weariness. Only his defiance did not wane, and the demon saw this.
“Thy people art also damned, and it is because of thee.” The taunt was uttered to dishearten Asehrai, and it did, for he lamented that his people should suffer. But it also reminded him of the will of his people, and gave him a fluttering, dying strength.
“The sun abhors you demon, you hide from it with storms. We shall not submit,” said Asehrai. There was horror in his heart, for it had stopped its beat. Though weariness and pain wove their fibers through him, he was awake still. Asehrai had become one of the dead, and only his defiance did not wane.
“I hide from nothing,” said the demon, and the storm parted above them to produce a single ray of light.
“Nay, you do hide. You hide from the people of this world. You are leeches and upon humankind you feed; blind, writhing, hateful. And still, though you may force it look upon your face, the Light of God abhors you. We shall not submit.”
“Thou art insolent to a Lord of all things,” said Belrial, and though no anger tainted his voice, it drew up around him in the form of bloodiest rage. Complacently, as a grown man would talk to the dumb animals of the earth, he spoke. “It is you that shalt repulse the sun, and ever you shalt sear at the sight of it. The Light of your beloved Lord shalt be death.” Asehrai gasped, for the sunlight on his face had become as fire, and he would have burned if the clouds had not then closed.
“We shall not submit,” said Asehrai softly.
“You speak of leeches. If it is as you say, then I share with thee the hunger of the demons.” The daeholder Belrial took Asehrai’s mouth in his own and, despite his victim’s struggles, delivered a kiss. Asehrai cried out, for his third-teeth grew sharp and filled with unholy longing.
“We shall not submit,” he whispered.
“You shall be my force of corruption upon this land that has attempted to defy me. Do not forget. Long to serve me, Asehrai. Always long. Your flesh now repulses God. One day, demonhunter, so shall your entire being.” The demon smiled. “O hunter of demons, thou art now a hunter of man.” Asehrai was enveloped in nothingness, and he thought no more.
Then the sun was set, and a woman called Aririn heard a cry in the night. She lit a torch and left her farm. She walked out into her fields and was surprised to feel the give of sand beneath her feet. For though she knew it not, the force of the conflict between Asehrai and Belrial had blasted away Fareth’s fertile plains until all was shifting dust.
She came upon Asehrai by his sobs in the dark, his form bent by pain and madness. Pain and madness are ever the gifts of demons. The woman knew the face of Asehrai, but she did not know the man before her. He was beautiful beyond the fairness of the fey, and even in his grief there was grace. Belrial had recreated all of vampyre in his image.
She attempted to comfort the man. His face was as pale as death, his eyes as lost, his skin as cold. Thinking him mortally injured, she turned so as to find help. Asehrai killed her as a beast kills, ripping into her neck and mindlessly lapping at her blood. It was his darkest time.
Indeed, it was so for all of his people, and in only a night the world learned to curse the name ‘vampyre’. As Belrial had said, his people suffered his same doom. The madness that Held them soon subsided, but only after it was quenched in cities of blood. The curse of Belrial spread like a sickness, corrupting all the people of non-vampyran descent if they survived an attack. This night was called the Night of Unending Cries, or Yengxianochen, and it was remembered until the world ended and a another began. The name of Asehrai’s people, despite world’s end and endless atonement, was forever stained.
