| Unfulfilled vengance |
[May. 8th, 2004|08:39 am] |
| [ | stāvoklis |
| | Radošais | ] |
| [ | melodija |
| | Nightwish - Nemo | ] |
Skallran had finally reached the fortress. Krug warriors poured upon him from their secret exits in the walls, but as soon as their feet touched the ground, a sea of flames swallowed them and only charred heaps of meat lay on the ground. For a moment the world was silent, nothing else existed on the world, except Skallran, his next victim and the slow stream of burning gas, pulsing irrevocably forward. Enormous despair and fear covered the face of the krug man. Not long until the krug supply was exhausted, alas so was the flamer's cartridge. Skallran heard a noise - it was the sound of wolf riders ripping towards him from the valley he had just left. With no other acceptable option, he pushed the red button and threw the gun away, towards the foe. He didn't nor want, nor wait to see the bloodshed and carnage; he simply turned to face the fortress.
Despite the ongoing burning fires, the gates were icy to the touch, and, although it was huge, it opened almost effortlessly, as if it was really made of the wind depicted on it. Behind them was a great hall with pillars reaching up into the dark distance, it was dimly lit by only a few torches hanging from the pillars.
Slowly the strong scent of a yarch crept into the room. Skallran could hear his heart beating insanely, as if it wanted to rip out of the ribcage and head for cover, out of harm's way. A slight breeze flew, closing the open gates and extinguishing most torches. Suddenly something large ran by Skallran, making a wind, but not making a sound. He fired and sensed that he missed, because he knew that yarchs cannot withstand pain, not even the slightest, thus they can easily be traced by their screams of pain. While he was wallowing in his thoughts, again a shadow ran through the darkness and the last torch faded out into oblivion.
It was pitch dark. Horrifying footsteps echoed from the distance and moments later burning pain struck Skallran, he got bitten and could even feel how the beast's venom flowed through his blood vessels. Skallran kneeled of pain, saving him from the next attack. From his belt he detached a medium charge needle grenade, activated and rolled it away. At the very moment he pulled his thick cloak over him, the footsteps sounded again and the grenade detonated. And again the feeling of increased awareness came to Skallran. He sensed every movement of air, every dust particle, he even nodded his head to avoid a needle heading towards him. Now he knew where the yarch was, and where it would be some moments later. Those moments passed, but Skallran already had a jackhammer shotgun in his hand.
Before even the first needle landed, the yarch was one shot of lead heavier. Using its scream, Skallran aimed his fire and the clip got emptied at the creature. With a blood chilling death-cry, a smoking carcass crumbled to the ground. To finish the scene, needles rained all over the room nailing every loose thing to the ground, except Skallran, who hid behind a column. Nevertheless a needle pierced his shoulder.
Slightly stunned and with a merely disfunctioning arm, Skallran slowly went forward in the darkness. The shots echoed in his mind, not just the last shots but each and every bullet he fired on this crusade now backfired in his mind. Regardless of that, he strived on forward. The goal always saw him through. There is no higher cause than revenge.
- Mother… Father…
Some inexorable presence here dampened Skallran's spirit. It intensified, as he got closer to the place, where a doorway should be. AS he raised his hand, he felt such an enormous repulsion, that he almost shattered upon this wall of fear blocking his passage. This gate was even more tremendous than the one before, nevertheless it opened as easy, instantly clearing the feeling of despair. A slight touch revealed a room well lit, but somehow even more impenetrable than the total darkness of the beast's den. It was poorly equipped with only a desk and a few chairs around it.
An inner voice told Skallran that this was the end, the fulfillment of his destiny, the place where all ends run together, the place where he'll have his revenge. He slowly went to the desk gun-first and spoke. - Face me you fiend!
The chair turned slowly, so slow that Skallran again suspected the time extending, or was it maybe the foe's vile course of action this time. It was indeterminable. Moments passed slowly, as the moment of truth moved ever closer. What will Skallran see there? Who could be responsible for all the suffering? What is the face of the one who murdered his family? The chair stopped towards Skallran. He stood petrified, befuddled, facing his own sneering face…
There was no weaponry in Skallran's hands or by his side, no ammo packs on his back, no knives, no armor, no wounds, no scars, no evidence of his past. He lay in a bed surrounded by a curtain. From somewhere deep inside his skull came the memory, that this is a hospital. Through the mist in his mind he heard a voice, he couldn't make out the words, still he understood it was somehow related to him.
James was sitting at home, reading some old paper over and over again. One story in particular caught his eye: "Man wakes up from long coma. Yesterday James Golting woke up after ten years spent in coma. He claimed to be named Skallran. He was delivered unconsciuss to the hospital as the only survivor after a car accident in which…" He tore the paper to pieces, and threw it away. Enraged he got up, smashed his fist through the coffee table and shouted.
- I am Skallran! Your evil curse won't work monster! I know who I am, and I will kill you! |
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