Realms Converge | By : Candice Category: +G through L > Legacy of Kain Views: 3562 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Legacy of Kain, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.Don't get to Nosgoth itself til chap 5 |
Yay finally in Nosgoth everyone! Please Enjoy!
I do not own Legacy of Kain, The Breed or any of the characters mentioned in this Fan Fiction save for Katrina, Auron and Nikolai (And a few folks added later).
Also " " is speaking verbally. ~ ~ is speaking mentally or Whisper when it comes up.
Chapter Five: First Slaughter
I woke up slowly to a dull pain, a foul stench in the air that seemed a mix of rotted food, piss and sick as well as the fact that I had ended up soaking wet at some point. I found that I was lying on my left side, my left wing trapped at a rather painful angle between my body and cold, mud covered cobblestone. The wing was not broken, that much I could easily tell as I slowly sat up. There was no sharp pain from a broken limb to assault my senses that would have resulted from such a break, a pain that I was very familiar with by now. Yet the limb was still unresponsive to my movements beyond a few weak twitches. A poke and prod of the wing revealed that it had merely fallen asleep under the weight of my body as the slow tingle of renewed blood flow started to make the wing twitch and itch the more I tried to move it. The rest of my body was soaked through and cold. For a moment I couldn't quite tell why I was soaked to the skin. I glanced around me and then up and I suddenly had to blink rapidly to clear the water from my eyes.
It was raining gently, the soft splashes of water hit my skin and drummed a steady rhythm that I hadn't noticed against the cobblestone. The rain water was what had drenched me through and through, but I welcomed its' soothing chill. I wasn't trapped inside any more. I was free. I wasn't sure how long I had been laying there on the ground, but I knew I had to get moving. I got to my feet slowly and I looked myself over critically. Other than the stiff and tingling wing that was rapidly regaining full movement, flame-blackened feather tips and my being covered in a mix of my own blood and the muck that was on the ground that was rapidly being washed away by the steady rain, muck of which I assumed was mud since there was no harsh scent of shit, I was in good shape. Yay.
As I looked around, I realized I was no where near that castle of horrors. There was no cliff nearby for me to have fallen from. In fact, it looked like I was in the outer slums of some sort of city, near the edge of a copse of trees in a... park of some sort? All of it, the nearby buildings and the signs hanging from them... seemed vaguely familiar to my mind somehow. There was a peculiar green glow coming from somewhere nearby and that glow cast a bit of light on the streets to break the pitch blackness of the moonless night.
A dull and damp mist covered the ground both in front of and behind me. I stretched my wings a bit as I looked around, the movement made in order to get more blood flowing so that my wing would stop twitching on its' own from the itch. Once the limb stopped twitching, I drew my wings around my body like a kind of feathered cloak or cape, the odd bone structure of the wings allowing for the largest bend of the wing to rest neatly upon my shoulders. I moved down the small alleyway I was in and took the left route when I saw, despite the darkness of the night, that going straight or to the right would only lead me to a pair of dead ends.
I kept to the shadows as I reached the main streets, wary of my location and wondering if this was some new and strange game of Auron's. I froze in confusion however, at the sight on the near empty streets before me. I say near empty, as there was a young man that was yelling at three others who all wore an eccentric and stylised type of armor and there were no others present in the immediate area to take note of the growing argument. The armor was familiar to me just as the city streets seemed familiar, but the thought of where I could be and why this place would seem familiar tickled at the back of my mind like a half remembered dream from weekends spent at home gaming. Which didn't make much sense to me. The armor looked like steel and had a bright, silvery sheen to it. Blue cloth hung along certain areas, back, crotch and hips, and each strip of cloth had an odd symbol on it. Symbols that were also etched into the armor itself. Symbols that I clearly remembered would glow when a certain kind of creature came too close. If... vampires came to close. The memory clicked into place. Those three men were... Sarafan!?
I stood there for a few moments as my thoughts ran wild. How could this be possible? Sarafan did not exist on my world, but maybe that was it? I realized with a start that maybe, just maybe, I was somehow, someway, no longer in my own Realm. That I was no longer on Earth or at least the Earth, Terra, Gaia that I knew. That, or I was having one hell of a hallucination brought on by injury or my finally descending into complete madness. I blinked a few times and then shrugged to myself. I decided that, if this was indeed a hallucination brought on by my state of mind, then what the hell, I might as well enjoy it while it lasts right? It's not like my dreams ever hurt me. It was the waking world that I felt pain in. If something actually hurt me then I'd work to be more careful.
I let my eyes drift shut for a brief moment and I tried to remember what exactly happened when I went flying out of the window. I had been spinning as I fell. There were the flames of course. There was... also a cyclone of fire or light? Somehow, perhaps, during the time of my fall and the time I hit the ground I might have passed through some kind of a vortex or portal and into... If I was right this was the capital city of Nosgoth... what was it called again? Meri... Marri-something? Meridian. Right, that was it. I hummed to myself as I realized that my memory still seemed fine at the least. I was not about to complain about the situation because, dream or madness, this meant I wouldn't have to deal with Auron directly any longer. Either I was out of his hands for good or I was too mad to care any longer. I had a new set of worries though. Mainly, was I dreaming, and if not, how I would get home? Could I get home? Did I even want to go home? And lastly, how in the world I had ended up in Nosgoth of all places? Had Kain been fiddling with the powers of the Pillar of Dimension at some point and my landing here was the result of that meddling?
Wouldn't really put it past him, I thought to myself with a small bit of dry amusement.
I looked back to the small group on the main streets. The boy was gesturing rudely now at the Sarafan knights. His hand rested upon the hilt of the short sword at his waist and it seemed like he was ready to draw the weapon at a moments notice. From the look on his face, as well as the slurring of his words, I would say the poor boy was quite thoroughly drunk. At a glance, he looked to be about sixteen years old, though it was hard for me to tell for sure. He might well have been younger than that given that life on Nosgoth was equivalent to Gaia's Dark Ages and that meant that a human's lifespan was roughly thirty to thirty five years, maybe, if you were lucky, you might hit forty to forty-five but that was rare. He stood at about five and a half or so feet tall and seemed a bit gangly as if he had yet to hit his last growth spurt, which was another reason I thought he might be around his mid-teens. Even given the dimness of the street lamps, I could still easily tell that he had long brown hair and his eyes were so dark a brown that they were almost black. He was well built for one so young, definitely a person who spent a lot of time fighting. I moved a few feet closer to the group, as I wanted to be able to hear what they were saying, yet I stayed close enough to the shadows so that I continued to remain out of sight. The runes on their armor didn't seem to react to me at all. I was fairly sure that Kain or another vampire would have set them off by now. I tuned into the conversation as the tallest of the three Sarafan had started speaking to the boy in a cool, condensing tone.
"Get inside citizen! The Vampires are always out this late at night. If you value your lif-" the boy cut him off.
"Shut up ya piece of trash!" the kid shouted. "Vile, snobbish murderers! Without a true leader even! Just a brat sittin' in his high chair! Worthless, the entire lot o' ya! I would rather meet with a Vampire then remain in the presence of your filth!"
The youngest of the three Sarafan started to move toward the boy angrily even as his hand strayed to the hilt of his sword. The third member, and the bulkiest of the three, held out his hand to stop the young Sarafan as the taller one spoke again. The man's voice was cold and cruel and, well yes, snobbish. He was acting like a high and mighty noble, when it was more likely that the man had been no more than a peasant himself before joining the ranks of the Sarafan.
"Hold your tongue boy," he growled out, "before we are forced to teach you respect! You are drunk, so we are goin-"
"Respect? Respect!?" the boy cried out in a scoffing tone. "What do you bastard whore-son's know about respect!? My family was ruined by your bloody lot just because you wanted them out of the way so tha' you could take our rightful property! Your lot accused my family of being in league with Vampires! We did no such thing and even when we showed you truth, blatant proof, of our innocence, you still destroyed our home, our lively-hood! That's not counting what else you lot have done to the other nobles of the city!"
It seemed that the boy's anger had grown too much for him to control in his drunken stupor. He drew his sword suddenly and moved forward toward the guards. He slashed the blade in a quick horizontal cut and, very accurate for a drunkard, caught the youngest guard at the throat with his blade. The blade gouged a deep wound and blood began spurting and flowing in massive, pulsing rivulets that beat in time with the guard's rapid heartbeat. The young Sarafan fell to the ground, choking and drowning in his own blood. The blood-scent was like a siren's call but I held still for the moment despite my hunger. I knew how to control the need for blood even half-starved as I was.
The second Sarafan drew his sword with a ringing shout for aid and then leapt forward as he brought his own blade down for a blow meant to hit the boy's left shoulder. The boy brought the blade of his sword up hard enough in a counter blow that the guard lost his grip on his weapon. The blade went flying into the air and clattered to the ground near my own feet. I bent down and quickly picked up the blade and hefted it in my right hand as I moved a little further back into the shadows. I looked over the blade and blinked in surprise. It was odd, the blade hadn't been damaged by the boy's disarming blow. I knew that swords were made for striking, not blocking. It seemed as if the blade was made differently from the swords of Earth, more resilient to the shock of impact thanks to magic or perhaps made from a different material altogether. As I looked back up, I saw that several more Sarafan were moving in from further down the wide street in order to join in the fight, having heard the commotion echo off the building walls. The boy was drastically outnumbered. The call of blood in the air was also very strong. I suddenly wanted to fight.
I licked my lips and shifted the sword in my grasp to clasp it loose yet firm. I then moved forward quickly and silently toward the boy's side. I lashed upwards and to the side with the blade in a move half remembered from the times with I'd practice with my own swords, never having received any formal kind of training I had relied instead on YouTube videos to get an idea of the basics, and I managed to cleave off the head of a guard that had been about to impale the boy from behind. My superior strength helped put an omph behind my blow that made up for my lack of skill. Due to my being stealthy, the man never even had a chance to realize what had happened.
Surprise, I thought to myself in grim satisfaction.
The boy turned toward me with a start, his blade raising as if to strike me, but he hesitated as he looked me over. From the initial look on his face, he must have first thought I another of the Sarafan... as if. I knew they'd kill me the moment they realized just what I was and I had never much liked the Sarafan depicted in the games anyway. I grabbed the boy by his free arm and yanked him to the side to pull him out of the way of an incoming blow. I then gave the boy a shove toward an alleyway, a shove that earned me a dirty look from him.
"Get out of here kid!" I hissed at him.
Pushing him toward the alley had left me open. I felt a sharp, yet shock-dulled pain suddenly in the right side of my body. I looked down, startled, and saw the tip of a sword protruding from the lower area of my chest. A moment later and the Sarafan yanked it from my body which caused me to hiss faintly in pain. Alright, alright... fuck, shit and damnation, but the pain meant that all of this was far more likely to be real and not a hallucination. Maybe.
Work it out later when you're not currently surrounded! I thought to myself angrily.
The boy moved as if to help me and I let out an angry and pain-filled hiss as I bared my fangs at him. It caused the boy to freeze at the sight of the sharp ivory points. I spread my wings out suddenly to their full length and knocked at least three of the Sarafan to the ground as I used my wings in order to shove them back and give myself some room to fight. I spun and caught the throat of the one that had wounded me, my claws extended and delving deep into the man's throat.
I felt an enraged, hungry sneer come to my lips as he gurgled, as if trying to speak, or perhaps to scream, then I suddenly yanked my hand back and tore out the man's throat to the point where the bone of his spine was glistening in the light of the moon and stars. The boy fled at that point, either in fear or knowing suddenly that I could last on my own, and I didn't care why, just that he was gone from my sight. Blood lust was building in me, stronger than it had ever been before. I hungered for blood and battle and for once, I was able to fight back.
With the boy gone, I was left to deal with about six or seven of the Sarafan. Many of them were shouting 'Demon Spawn' or something of the like, but I couldn't focus on their words. I had gone without feeding for I didn't know how long by that point. I was also wounded. It was getting hard to breathe beyond that need that grew within me, hard to focus beyond a rending hunger that filled the core of me and woke something from the depth of my mind. And that something was angry and finally free.
I began to lose myself to the blood lust and, being honest with myself, I welcomed the sudden rush of strength I felt as it begin to course through my system. My instincts had heightened to a level I had known before, whilst bound and chained. Previous times I had been unable to lash out, unable to strike back, take my vengeance and feed upon fallen foes as I had wished to, had longed to. Now there was nothing to hold me back, nothing to contain my rage and my hunger. I spun around swiftly and lashed out wildly to strike a sword from the grip of another guard. The blow him weaponless and open to further attack. I started in for the kill, the want to feed briefly blotting out all other coherent thoughts. I was jerked to a stop by a new pain, however, and my mind was pulled back from the edge of blood lust. One of the guards behind me had attacked and caught his blade in the bone of my left wing. A ragged scream escaped my lips at the familiar agony. My mind was filled with agony and rage. How dare this human attack me when I was about to feed. How dare he damage my wings. How dare he?!
"You! How dare you?!" I hissed low as I rounded on the human who had done damage to my wing.
I lowered myself to a crouch and drew my wings close as I swiftly yanked the blade from the man's grip. I then spun in nearly a full circle. I lashed out with my sword instinctively as I turned and cut my blade deep into the legs of those closest to me. As I stood, still spinning, I lifted my blade in an upwards spiral and those closest to me had their heads cleaved from them thanks to the vampiric enhanced strength behind my attack. A few heads hit the ground, with one or two others stumbling away and clenching desperately at their slashed throats. Instinct alone drove me onward as I ripped the now owner-less blade from my left wing and threw it like one might toss a throwing blade. The sword pierced the heart of one of the remaining Sarafan warriors. The armor that these men wore either wasn't all that thick or the thrown blade, enhanced as it was by my strength, was thrown with enough force to pierce the armored metal and lay the man low. The lust for blood was becoming too strong to resist, all I wanted to do was to feed, but I also felt weak.
My sight began to dim due to blood loss and growing weakness, yet despite that I could now somehow sense the humans far easier than I had when I could see clearly. Instincts reared within me to such a degree that I could practically taste where they were one my tongue and could all but predict what they were going to do next. I heard it clearly when one screamed a cut off sound as my sword slashed into his throat. I could feel my claws rending through the armor in order to tear out the spine of another. I could taste in sharp relief the sweetness of the blood on my hand after I had torn out the heart of the final Sarafan guard and had crushed the still beating heart in my hand with a dark satisfaction that I was unused to.
My sense of sight began to clear slowly and I saw the remains of my enemies around me. Little blood had been squandered as I knew I had fed and fed well. And yet... that sense of pain began to return to me as well. I raised my hand to the wound upon my wing and realized that the main vein had been cut and had been having trouble healing what with all the continued movements made in order to kill the men around me. Still, that wound should have closed over some time ago. I was losing blood at an alarming rate because of said wound despite the fact that I had fed just moments ago and I could feel the blood as it pulsed out blood in time with my heart beat. A glance at my other injuries showed that my other wounds were healing far slower than they should have as well. I knew how fast it took me to heal from a particular kind of wound... sword wounds should heal faster than this.
I began to move toward the alley with a growl at the realization that I wasn't out of danger yet and I felt my body sway as I moved. Again my vision began to blur, but this time not with blood lust. I knew I was going to pass out soon. For some reason my wounds were not healing right, barely healing at all really. I dimly thought to myself that there might well have been some kind of magic put on the blades to halt vampiric flesh from healing. I realized as well that the weapons the Sarafan had used had runes on them, runes that would obstruct a vampires healing abilities, and I was a half-blood vampire and thus still affected by said runes.
I tried again to move toward the alley and out of the open air. I had to get out of sight and hide myself so I could heal in full. I needed time to recover and if I remained out in the streets I knew I would be in trouble if another group of Sarafan came upon the scene if I was still here. They would either catch me, or kill me. Most likely the latter.
Again I had to stop and I rested a hand against the wall at the mouth of the alleyway. The dizziness was becoming too much. My claws scratched at the stone building and I dimly realized that I was falling backwards as my gaze was suddenly on the half-hidden stars above me. As I fell, my wings spread out in front of me and I realized that at some point during the battle it had stopped raining as hard as it had been and it was just sprinkling a bit, the barest touch of water hitting my skin as I fell. It was a strange thing to suddenly find myself focusing on.
I gave a harsh mental tug at my wings in order to draw them back into my body where they could be safe and heal. Hopefully, if I was found by more Sarafan, the lack of wings and the slow healing injuries would make them think I was an unlucky bystander. A rush of feathers filled the air as my wings slid back inside. I had a dim, and rather ridiculous thought then as I looked up at the starry, still partly cloudy sky. As my feathers filled the air I ended up thinking 'oh, how pretty.'
When I finally hit the ground, my wings were back within my body in full, safe and healing. That would prevent further blood loss at the least.
My eyes fell shut even as I struggled to try to move to get up, to do something, even if it was just to raise my hand. I blinked my eyes back open briefly as I continued to try to turn over, to stand up. I thought I could suddenly make out the form of a man as he moved to stand over me. The man had long white silver hair, the tips of which peaked out from his raised hood and he wore a dark red cloak over his shoulders to protect from the rain. I couldn't see his eyes, hidden as they were behind the hood, but I could see the cold smirk on his lips. He looked so familiar, even though I could barely focus on him as I slipped into unconsciousness.
Who... who was this man?
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