AZNdragon
25-12-04, 01:59 AM
Just a few quick notes before I post the prologue to this thing:
1) Don't read this if you have delicate sensibilties... The prologue is sort of all right, but I've got some pretty bad torture scenes later. I'll continue posting warnings in front of the chapters, so don't claim that I didn't warn you.
2) This is set in my own world.
3) Please post criticism... I know how much I need it.
4) If you're actually interested in reading the monster excerpt I've got so far, e-mail me at Druidfalconwolf@aol.com.
Well, here it is...
Prologue: Death’s Shadow
High Yri Scout Dyl’ran crept stealthily into the forest dividing the land of the High Yri and the Night Yri – sworn enemies. After glancing over his shoulder every few seconds for an hour, expecting any moment a snarling, half-naked barbarian Night Yri woman to leap at him, nothing happened, and he allowed himself to relax.
This, of course, happened to be a mistake. A big mistake, as he was just about to discover.
Scout Dyl’ran was inexperienced, and on his first mission. The High Yri generals had decided to send him on this mission reasoning he would be no big loss if he was discovered and slain. The commanders had kept that knowledge from him, telling him he had been specially selected and chosen. They had not told him from what special group he had been chosen either – the group known for absolute obedience and absolute stupidity. So it was that he did not notice when the forest surrounding him went silent rather abruptly, as if a huge predator walked among them. The squirrels chattering scurried away, and the beautiful birdsong disappeared.
Then she appeared, and the surrounding forest seemed to be shadowed.
Dyl’ran smirked in appreciation as the dark corners of his mind began to race. The riding woman was garbed in a cloak with the hood down, letting her dark blue-black tresses curve her perfect face and slim, clinging revealing garments that kept her most salient points covered, but did not hide her exquisite beauty. He licked his lips in anticipation as he saw two lovely legs bared to the thigh, and one tantalizing glimpse of her chest. The cloak covered her arms, and he wished he had been able to see them. It had been far too long since he had been able to **** a woman, especially a Night Yri, and here was this Night Yri whore, offering herself to him!
Perhaps he wouldn’t torture this one to death when he was finished with her for today. He nodded his head unconsciously in decision. He would keep her.
Finally, he noticed exactly what she was mounted on.
A winged dire wolf the size of a horse.
The shadows detached themselves from the forest, and he licked his lips again, but this time in fear as he saw what they were.
A pack of fifteen winged dire wolves only slightly smaller than the one she was riding on.
He froze in panic the way a rabbit did when face to face with a sleek and majestic wolf barely two inches away.
The woman smiled mockingly and slung a bow and one arrow off her shoulder, which he had not seen before. She nocked the arrow and drew the string slowly, the folds of her dark cloak slipping from pale bare arms.
Dyl’ran screamed, his careful training and instructions vanishing in the blink of an eye within the face of his fear as the woman aimed at him.
“Mercy!” he shrieked. “Mercy!”
“What mercy did you show My daughters as you ***** and slew them? Reap the price of your terrible actions, High Yri!”
How could she have known what he had done to the Night Yri women?
How could she have known what I had done?
He screamed again in utter panic.
She laughed at him. “Your screams shall not be heard until I choose them to be heard.”
He kept on screaming anyway, his cry intensified with the strength of terror, backing away from her, hands held out pleadingly.
“Run,” she whispered as softly as his scream had been loud.
He ran as fast as he would ever do in the rest of his drastically shortened remaining lifetime. He did not even consider fighting; he knew, instinctively, that the woman would laugh as she killed him. He simply ran in blind panic. Ran the way a rabbit did when confronted with a wolf.
Ran the way the women had when confronted with him.
Mocking laughter followed him.
He ran until he could run no more, and every step he ran was matched by her baying wolves and the woman with her arrow trained on his back. And when at last, he came to an exhausted, stumbling halt, she stopped too. He extended his hands once more, begging for forgiveness. She drew once more – and this time, shot.
The arrow thudded into his outstretched hand before he could jerk it away and Dyl’ran screamed in raw pain as it quivered in the air.
“Why?” he gasped. “Why?”
Her expression turned wintry.
“Watch.”
He saw the images of the women he had ***** and tortured. Experienced their fear. Experienced their pain and anguish.
No matter how much he twisted and turned, trying to escape the terrible pictures, they stayed right in front of him.
“Watch,” she repeated implacably.
“Stop!” he managed to croak at last. “Please, stop!”
The woman released his mind, and finally it stopped.
“Kill me,” he begged.
“No.”
“You would let me go?” He was unable to keep the rising hope from his voice.
Again came that mocking smile. “Fool, oh, fool. I will punish you – and then My faithful hounds shall feed.” Her hand swept over the now-silent dire wolves. Then she bound him with her magic to make him stand on the earth, unable to move as cold droplets of sweat beaded down his chest. She stripped off his clothes, tossing them on the ground to lie in a puddle about his feet, then jerked on the arrow, pulling it from his hand even as he shrieked. Blood blossomed anew, but she ignored it. She, too, stripped, and hung her clothes on a tree branch. She drew her knife, a terrible glint in her eyes.
“Fear me.”
Dyl’ran feared her.
She flayed him slowly alive as he screamed all the while begging for mercy. And then she lowered her knife in between his legs, and grasped it firmly as the blade glinted once in the sunlight. It flashed down, and he screamed in pain as she threw the raw flesh to the ground, where immediately the largest wolf growled away the others as he ate it, blood staining his muzzle red.
Hours later, his voice had run out and his skin had been stripped from his flesh. She fed the still warm and bloody skin to her hounds. He tried to scream once more, but his throat was clogged.
“Call for aid, High Yri, and your comrades will come.”
He obeyed instantly, surprised to find he could scream, his voice returned with the need for to be avenged. “They… will… come… soon… enough… and… where… will… you… be… then?” he asked, continually stopping to catch his breath.
“I will be long gone by then.” The hounds came to lick at him and he screamed once more in agony. He dimly noticed the naked blood-bathed woman chasing her equally blood-bathed wolves away, but he noticed through the haze of pain that chunks of flesh had been ripped from him.
Over three hours later, as the sun set, he managed to summon enough energy to ask her the question he had wanted to.
“Who… are… you?”
Her eyes were as cold as a winter day. “I am Vengeance.”
“But… what… are… you?”
“I am the Huntress,” the goddess said softly. “Fear My Wrath.”
He screamed yet again in renewed fear and panic – and agony as She released the magic and his raw flesh fell on the hard earth.
The Huntress turned to Her wolves.
“Feed,” She commanded, and instantly, the fifteen dire wolves covered the writhing body.
“Feed.”
* * * * * * * * *
At nightfall, the High Yri patrol arrived. There was nothing but two clues there to show the horrifying bloodshed that had happened mere minutes before.
There was only the blood painted upon the earth and one clean-picked skeleton.
Along the bones were carved letters.
When the captain cautiously approached to read it, his blood chilled.
“Death walks among the High Yri. And so do We, for the Night Yri Gods have returned.
Beware, High Yri, and fear Our righteous wrath and power.”
Far off in the distance, carried by the light evening breeze, came the sound of mocking laughter and the scent of raw meat.
The captain and his troops left the forest as fast as they could.
In the welcoming cover of the dark, where She had been standing literally right behind them, the Huntress smiled mockingly.
1) Don't read this if you have delicate sensibilties... The prologue is sort of all right, but I've got some pretty bad torture scenes later. I'll continue posting warnings in front of the chapters, so don't claim that I didn't warn you.
2) This is set in my own world.
3) Please post criticism... I know how much I need it.
4) If you're actually interested in reading the monster excerpt I've got so far, e-mail me at Druidfalconwolf@aol.com.
Well, here it is...
Prologue: Death’s Shadow
High Yri Scout Dyl’ran crept stealthily into the forest dividing the land of the High Yri and the Night Yri – sworn enemies. After glancing over his shoulder every few seconds for an hour, expecting any moment a snarling, half-naked barbarian Night Yri woman to leap at him, nothing happened, and he allowed himself to relax.
This, of course, happened to be a mistake. A big mistake, as he was just about to discover.
Scout Dyl’ran was inexperienced, and on his first mission. The High Yri generals had decided to send him on this mission reasoning he would be no big loss if he was discovered and slain. The commanders had kept that knowledge from him, telling him he had been specially selected and chosen. They had not told him from what special group he had been chosen either – the group known for absolute obedience and absolute stupidity. So it was that he did not notice when the forest surrounding him went silent rather abruptly, as if a huge predator walked among them. The squirrels chattering scurried away, and the beautiful birdsong disappeared.
Then she appeared, and the surrounding forest seemed to be shadowed.
Dyl’ran smirked in appreciation as the dark corners of his mind began to race. The riding woman was garbed in a cloak with the hood down, letting her dark blue-black tresses curve her perfect face and slim, clinging revealing garments that kept her most salient points covered, but did not hide her exquisite beauty. He licked his lips in anticipation as he saw two lovely legs bared to the thigh, and one tantalizing glimpse of her chest. The cloak covered her arms, and he wished he had been able to see them. It had been far too long since he had been able to **** a woman, especially a Night Yri, and here was this Night Yri whore, offering herself to him!
Perhaps he wouldn’t torture this one to death when he was finished with her for today. He nodded his head unconsciously in decision. He would keep her.
Finally, he noticed exactly what she was mounted on.
A winged dire wolf the size of a horse.
The shadows detached themselves from the forest, and he licked his lips again, but this time in fear as he saw what they were.
A pack of fifteen winged dire wolves only slightly smaller than the one she was riding on.
He froze in panic the way a rabbit did when face to face with a sleek and majestic wolf barely two inches away.
The woman smiled mockingly and slung a bow and one arrow off her shoulder, which he had not seen before. She nocked the arrow and drew the string slowly, the folds of her dark cloak slipping from pale bare arms.
Dyl’ran screamed, his careful training and instructions vanishing in the blink of an eye within the face of his fear as the woman aimed at him.
“Mercy!” he shrieked. “Mercy!”
“What mercy did you show My daughters as you ***** and slew them? Reap the price of your terrible actions, High Yri!”
How could she have known what he had done to the Night Yri women?
How could she have known what I had done?
He screamed again in utter panic.
She laughed at him. “Your screams shall not be heard until I choose them to be heard.”
He kept on screaming anyway, his cry intensified with the strength of terror, backing away from her, hands held out pleadingly.
“Run,” she whispered as softly as his scream had been loud.
He ran as fast as he would ever do in the rest of his drastically shortened remaining lifetime. He did not even consider fighting; he knew, instinctively, that the woman would laugh as she killed him. He simply ran in blind panic. Ran the way a rabbit did when confronted with a wolf.
Ran the way the women had when confronted with him.
Mocking laughter followed him.
He ran until he could run no more, and every step he ran was matched by her baying wolves and the woman with her arrow trained on his back. And when at last, he came to an exhausted, stumbling halt, she stopped too. He extended his hands once more, begging for forgiveness. She drew once more – and this time, shot.
The arrow thudded into his outstretched hand before he could jerk it away and Dyl’ran screamed in raw pain as it quivered in the air.
“Why?” he gasped. “Why?”
Her expression turned wintry.
“Watch.”
He saw the images of the women he had ***** and tortured. Experienced their fear. Experienced their pain and anguish.
No matter how much he twisted and turned, trying to escape the terrible pictures, they stayed right in front of him.
“Watch,” she repeated implacably.
“Stop!” he managed to croak at last. “Please, stop!”
The woman released his mind, and finally it stopped.
“Kill me,” he begged.
“No.”
“You would let me go?” He was unable to keep the rising hope from his voice.
Again came that mocking smile. “Fool, oh, fool. I will punish you – and then My faithful hounds shall feed.” Her hand swept over the now-silent dire wolves. Then she bound him with her magic to make him stand on the earth, unable to move as cold droplets of sweat beaded down his chest. She stripped off his clothes, tossing them on the ground to lie in a puddle about his feet, then jerked on the arrow, pulling it from his hand even as he shrieked. Blood blossomed anew, but she ignored it. She, too, stripped, and hung her clothes on a tree branch. She drew her knife, a terrible glint in her eyes.
“Fear me.”
Dyl’ran feared her.
She flayed him slowly alive as he screamed all the while begging for mercy. And then she lowered her knife in between his legs, and grasped it firmly as the blade glinted once in the sunlight. It flashed down, and he screamed in pain as she threw the raw flesh to the ground, where immediately the largest wolf growled away the others as he ate it, blood staining his muzzle red.
Hours later, his voice had run out and his skin had been stripped from his flesh. She fed the still warm and bloody skin to her hounds. He tried to scream once more, but his throat was clogged.
“Call for aid, High Yri, and your comrades will come.”
He obeyed instantly, surprised to find he could scream, his voice returned with the need for to be avenged. “They… will… come… soon… enough… and… where… will… you… be… then?” he asked, continually stopping to catch his breath.
“I will be long gone by then.” The hounds came to lick at him and he screamed once more in agony. He dimly noticed the naked blood-bathed woman chasing her equally blood-bathed wolves away, but he noticed through the haze of pain that chunks of flesh had been ripped from him.
Over three hours later, as the sun set, he managed to summon enough energy to ask her the question he had wanted to.
“Who… are… you?”
Her eyes were as cold as a winter day. “I am Vengeance.”
“But… what… are… you?”
“I am the Huntress,” the goddess said softly. “Fear My Wrath.”
He screamed yet again in renewed fear and panic – and agony as She released the magic and his raw flesh fell on the hard earth.
The Huntress turned to Her wolves.
“Feed,” She commanded, and instantly, the fifteen dire wolves covered the writhing body.
“Feed.”
* * * * * * * * *
At nightfall, the High Yri patrol arrived. There was nothing but two clues there to show the horrifying bloodshed that had happened mere minutes before.
There was only the blood painted upon the earth and one clean-picked skeleton.
Along the bones were carved letters.
When the captain cautiously approached to read it, his blood chilled.
“Death walks among the High Yri. And so do We, for the Night Yri Gods have returned.
Beware, High Yri, and fear Our righteous wrath and power.”
Far off in the distance, carried by the light evening breeze, came the sound of mocking laughter and the scent of raw meat.
The captain and his troops left the forest as fast as they could.
In the welcoming cover of the dark, where She had been standing literally right behind them, the Huntress smiled mockingly.