The mist swirled about the man’s feet as he passed through the path of the forest. The night was frigid yet the traveler took no notice. The moon hung overhead like a cold face staring down on the unkind world below it. Luckily, this happened to be an area of the world that did not yet feel the sharp pains of the Gathering, the stars still shown down from above without hindrances from any creature below. For that, the man was thankful.
One could hardly call him a man knowing he was barely older than sixteen, yet it would be impossible to suggest he was something else unless you knew him. Very few knew him and those that did certainly wished they did not. The very demeanor of the boy revealed a malicious mind inside the creature. There just wasn’t something completely right about him, completely whole. He looked over his shoulder for a moment and saw nothing, yet everything. There is much to explain.
The man was covered in a tightly bundled black overcoat. The coat had been drawn together with tight lengths of rope and padding so it wouldn’t betray him with sound. His coal boots had also been modified such. On the sole there were several layers of soft fabric that muffled his footsteps, despite his already extremely light feet. Over his head was draped the shadow-like hood of the coat he wore. All that could be seen of the owner of the figure was a long length of silvery hair that fell from inside the coat. On his back was a great hunch that gave the man a crippled look and every now and then, when he made an awkward motion, a black feather fell from the base of the overcoat.
It was hard to describe the area he walked in as a forest. It had certainly been one at a time, but now the remains of the once splendid land was being erased by a cruel vermin that felt little remorse of the elder pines. The sight of the newly erected dwellings sickened the man as he past them, leaving him pondering the thought of setting them ablaze for the owners’ treachery of all that nature had given them. He found a deep hate and loathing for these soft, pudgy creatures and their habits. He had once embraced their kind until they had revealed themselves to be such traitors. As the man passed one of the gentle trees that still stood, he stopped, momentarily and examined the wounds that had been inflicted upon it despite it had been overlooked by harsh blades.
Pulling a bare hand from his sleeve, the man revealed a pale set of digits that he approached the bark of the tree with. Gently, he pressed the warm palm to the trunk of the injured giant and breathed in deeply. Something lit up in the man’s eyes and their brilliant blue shown out, almost glowing themselves. He breathed outward, an ancient language spilling from his tongue as the wind blew past him, lifting the lock of white hair into the air in front of him. His palm began to glow gently and soon the whole tree joined in the show of light. A groan spilled from the traveler that was echoed by the tree.
Clutching his hand as though it had been burned, the man bent over as the glow on his hand turned fire red and the glow of the tree slowly faded. The man sighed deeply and looked up at the tree, his eyes still glowing. Remarkably, the tree’s wounds had sealed themselves, leaving on the sap that had leaked from it to show that they had ever been there. Even the limb that had broken from some child’s frolicking had been restored. A smile flickered into sight under the hood, reflecting the red light from the man’s hand and giving his teeth a vampirism aura. The traveler appeared to have four canines too many, but he hardly noticed nor cared. The deed had been done and slowly, the glow and pain of his hand faded.
The traveler slowly let himself stand upright again, removing his hood to wipe a sweaty brow. Long strands of the silvery hair flowed along his body, flowing over the hunch in his back and coming to rest halfway down. His pale face almost gave off sheen of its own in the night, reflecting his strange heritage. From his face alone, the man looked like a human, yet there was something about the configuration that made him different.
The most striking of features about the stranger were his almost inhuman eyes. They looked as though the moon had fallen into the ocean, leaving the brilliant display of color splashed upon the only way to capture the scene the being had. The brilliant blue of his eyes also held a powerful paleness to them that was amplified even more by the full moon in the air. Another thing about the man were his cheekbones, placed oddly high. This did not make him look strange, in fact it made him appear handsome, yet left him with a demeanor that would either coax people into giving him a second glance, or simply scurrying away at the sight of him. His nose was a small and rather pointed protrusion of the skin place perfectly between his fascinating eyes and thin mouth.
At the moment, a true smile was on the travelers face and his eyes had a sympathetic joy about them. He felt the pulse of the tree return to full life, as its injuries no longer brought about the cold that had ailed it. The man approached the tree again and patted it fondly before turning away, not bothering to don his hood again. The hate in his heart had been momentarily quenched by the task of something meaningful. All around him he still felt the suffering of nature, yet it brought him no mean satisfaction that he had helped to relieve at least one creature, knowing that he was far too weak to aid the others.
Touching the presence of nature as he moved, the traveler stopped suddenly. His blue eyes had widened into perfect circles, much like a bird’s. Something near him had startled him. A fowl word flew from his mouth in his own language and he looked around. Something wasn’t right. His fair head turned left and right, but something was blocking his sight. Then, everything went completely still, leaving only the rustle of leaves to be heard as the wind dragged them across stones and stumps.
Without waiting to see what it was, the stranger set off at a great speed, feeling the presence begin to move again. But the thing or things wasn’t near fast enough to compete with the blur that became the man’s legs. In a matter of seconds, the man had left the dwellings behind him, allowing him to stop for a moment. Unsure of what was happening, he looked around for a moment, surveying the vast countryside that had opened up before him. He looked at what lay beyond the edge of the Old Forest for only a second before something burst from the bushes beyond the path.
Two watchmen stood, their pikes out and flashing in front of him, blocking his path. They said in their rough language, “Halt! Who be-“ before the man cut himself off. Glancing from the man’s face and then to his partner, the weathered guard said, “Maud, isn’t he a Guntlam?”
Without giving them a chance to continue the conversation, the man drew a small dirk with a brilliant flash. The sapphire weapon was quickly stained the color of rubies as blood from the guard’s throats flowed over it. The action had been so swift and fluid that neither of the men had a chance to conclude they were dead. A sick gurgling was the only noise from the bodies. They hadn’t even moaned in pain. The stranger stood over their fallen bodies, a mixture of hate for the creatures, yet also pity at the loss of life. Knowing he had tarried too long, the boy sheathed the sapphire dirk and made to continue on the path before he heard a great cry, “Stop, Guntlam! You’ve done it, now! Killing a human would have you slain if your breed wasn’t so rare!”
Without turning to count the approaching men, the stranger that was called a Guntlam removed his hands from his sleeves. Pointing his palms outward, the Guntlam and the men alike watched as milky white blades cut through his palms, pushing themselves out. The blades slid out in a fluid motion, greased by the traveler’s own blood. As the traveler turned to face the soldiers, the other men felt a chill befall them, causing them to knock arrows into their bows despite their orders. The obvious leader lifted his bow giving consent to the others to do the same, and said in a shakier voice than before, “Don’t do that! We don’t want to hurt you, Guntlam…”
The traveler slowly lifted his face to the soldiers, giving them a cold stare that displayed his hate for their race. That would be all the soldiers needed to decide what to do with their bows. With a uniform twang eight arrows sang their way towards the stranger. With a flick of his wrist, though, the stranger parried the arrows with sickening cracks of the metal heads on the bone blades and finally the hard thud as each arrowhead found its way to the ground at the Guntlam’s feet.
Greatly perturbed by the stranger’s speed, the soldiers quickly reknocked their bows and lifted them again, pulling them the full length of their strings. As if with melded minds, the soldiers released the arrows in uniform without word from each other. Again, the stranger flicked his wrist as his swords that remained attached to his arms like a freakish extension passed through the air. Instead of falling to the ground, though, the arrowheads never fell, greatly confusing their masters. It took a moment for the soldiers to notice the arrowheads, pierced and shafted onto the sword like a great metal and bone shish kabob.
Before the soldiers had time to react, though, the stranger went into and elegant twirl, turning suddenly violent and pointing his arms outright at the perfect moment when he stopped. With a cruel and unnoticeable speed, the arrowheads flew from the end of the cold bone and perfectly into the chests of the unprotected soldiers. The once innocent-looking stranger shown in a new light for the men as the lights of their lives were extinguished in as much uniform as they had fired the arrows. They could merely clutch their chests in pain as they sunk to the ground, groans slowly dying away as they did. No blood spilled from their bodies as they fell limp to the ground, the wounds having been cauterized from the mere friction of the speeding arrowheads.
Without taking a moment to look behind him at the pain on the men’s faces, knowing they were dead, the stranger walked away coldly. He retracted the milky white bones into his palms that seemed to seal without consent of their master. The wind seemed suddenly gone as the stranger walked away, into the night. The only sound that remained was the soft pitter-patter of blood droplets that fell from the traveler’s fingertips.
One could hardly call him a man knowing he was barely older than sixteen, yet it would be impossible to suggest he was something else unless you knew him. Very few knew him and those that did certainly wished they did not. The very demeanor of the boy revealed a malicious mind inside the creature. There just wasn’t something completely right about him, completely whole. He looked over his shoulder for a moment and saw nothing, yet everything. There is much to explain.
The man was covered in a tightly bundled black overcoat. The coat had been drawn together with tight lengths of rope and padding so it wouldn’t betray him with sound. His coal boots had also been modified such. On the sole there were several layers of soft fabric that muffled his footsteps, despite his already extremely light feet. Over his head was draped the shadow-like hood of the coat he wore. All that could be seen of the owner of the figure was a long length of silvery hair that fell from inside the coat. On his back was a great hunch that gave the man a crippled look and every now and then, when he made an awkward motion, a black feather fell from the base of the overcoat.
It was hard to describe the area he walked in as a forest. It had certainly been one at a time, but now the remains of the once splendid land was being erased by a cruel vermin that felt little remorse of the elder pines. The sight of the newly erected dwellings sickened the man as he past them, leaving him pondering the thought of setting them ablaze for the owners’ treachery of all that nature had given them. He found a deep hate and loathing for these soft, pudgy creatures and their habits. He had once embraced their kind until they had revealed themselves to be such traitors. As the man passed one of the gentle trees that still stood, he stopped, momentarily and examined the wounds that had been inflicted upon it despite it had been overlooked by harsh blades.
Pulling a bare hand from his sleeve, the man revealed a pale set of digits that he approached the bark of the tree with. Gently, he pressed the warm palm to the trunk of the injured giant and breathed in deeply. Something lit up in the man’s eyes and their brilliant blue shown out, almost glowing themselves. He breathed outward, an ancient language spilling from his tongue as the wind blew past him, lifting the lock of white hair into the air in front of him. His palm began to glow gently and soon the whole tree joined in the show of light. A groan spilled from the traveler that was echoed by the tree.
Clutching his hand as though it had been burned, the man bent over as the glow on his hand turned fire red and the glow of the tree slowly faded. The man sighed deeply and looked up at the tree, his eyes still glowing. Remarkably, the tree’s wounds had sealed themselves, leaving on the sap that had leaked from it to show that they had ever been there. Even the limb that had broken from some child’s frolicking had been restored. A smile flickered into sight under the hood, reflecting the red light from the man’s hand and giving his teeth a vampirism aura. The traveler appeared to have four canines too many, but he hardly noticed nor cared. The deed had been done and slowly, the glow and pain of his hand faded.
The traveler slowly let himself stand upright again, removing his hood to wipe a sweaty brow. Long strands of the silvery hair flowed along his body, flowing over the hunch in his back and coming to rest halfway down. His pale face almost gave off sheen of its own in the night, reflecting his strange heritage. From his face alone, the man looked like a human, yet there was something about the configuration that made him different.
The most striking of features about the stranger were his almost inhuman eyes. They looked as though the moon had fallen into the ocean, leaving the brilliant display of color splashed upon the only way to capture the scene the being had. The brilliant blue of his eyes also held a powerful paleness to them that was amplified even more by the full moon in the air. Another thing about the man were his cheekbones, placed oddly high. This did not make him look strange, in fact it made him appear handsome, yet left him with a demeanor that would either coax people into giving him a second glance, or simply scurrying away at the sight of him. His nose was a small and rather pointed protrusion of the skin place perfectly between his fascinating eyes and thin mouth.
At the moment, a true smile was on the travelers face and his eyes had a sympathetic joy about them. He felt the pulse of the tree return to full life, as its injuries no longer brought about the cold that had ailed it. The man approached the tree again and patted it fondly before turning away, not bothering to don his hood again. The hate in his heart had been momentarily quenched by the task of something meaningful. All around him he still felt the suffering of nature, yet it brought him no mean satisfaction that he had helped to relieve at least one creature, knowing that he was far too weak to aid the others.
Touching the presence of nature as he moved, the traveler stopped suddenly. His blue eyes had widened into perfect circles, much like a bird’s. Something near him had startled him. A fowl word flew from his mouth in his own language and he looked around. Something wasn’t right. His fair head turned left and right, but something was blocking his sight. Then, everything went completely still, leaving only the rustle of leaves to be heard as the wind dragged them across stones and stumps.
Without waiting to see what it was, the stranger set off at a great speed, feeling the presence begin to move again. But the thing or things wasn’t near fast enough to compete with the blur that became the man’s legs. In a matter of seconds, the man had left the dwellings behind him, allowing him to stop for a moment. Unsure of what was happening, he looked around for a moment, surveying the vast countryside that had opened up before him. He looked at what lay beyond the edge of the Old Forest for only a second before something burst from the bushes beyond the path.
Two watchmen stood, their pikes out and flashing in front of him, blocking his path. They said in their rough language, “Halt! Who be-“ before the man cut himself off. Glancing from the man’s face and then to his partner, the weathered guard said, “Maud, isn’t he a Guntlam?”
Without giving them a chance to continue the conversation, the man drew a small dirk with a brilliant flash. The sapphire weapon was quickly stained the color of rubies as blood from the guard’s throats flowed over it. The action had been so swift and fluid that neither of the men had a chance to conclude they were dead. A sick gurgling was the only noise from the bodies. They hadn’t even moaned in pain. The stranger stood over their fallen bodies, a mixture of hate for the creatures, yet also pity at the loss of life. Knowing he had tarried too long, the boy sheathed the sapphire dirk and made to continue on the path before he heard a great cry, “Stop, Guntlam! You’ve done it, now! Killing a human would have you slain if your breed wasn’t so rare!”
Without turning to count the approaching men, the stranger that was called a Guntlam removed his hands from his sleeves. Pointing his palms outward, the Guntlam and the men alike watched as milky white blades cut through his palms, pushing themselves out. The blades slid out in a fluid motion, greased by the traveler’s own blood. As the traveler turned to face the soldiers, the other men felt a chill befall them, causing them to knock arrows into their bows despite their orders. The obvious leader lifted his bow giving consent to the others to do the same, and said in a shakier voice than before, “Don’t do that! We don’t want to hurt you, Guntlam…”
The traveler slowly lifted his face to the soldiers, giving them a cold stare that displayed his hate for their race. That would be all the soldiers needed to decide what to do with their bows. With a uniform twang eight arrows sang their way towards the stranger. With a flick of his wrist, though, the stranger parried the arrows with sickening cracks of the metal heads on the bone blades and finally the hard thud as each arrowhead found its way to the ground at the Guntlam’s feet.
Greatly perturbed by the stranger’s speed, the soldiers quickly reknocked their bows and lifted them again, pulling them the full length of their strings. As if with melded minds, the soldiers released the arrows in uniform without word from each other. Again, the stranger flicked his wrist as his swords that remained attached to his arms like a freakish extension passed through the air. Instead of falling to the ground, though, the arrowheads never fell, greatly confusing their masters. It took a moment for the soldiers to notice the arrowheads, pierced and shafted onto the sword like a great metal and bone shish kabob.
Before the soldiers had time to react, though, the stranger went into and elegant twirl, turning suddenly violent and pointing his arms outright at the perfect moment when he stopped. With a cruel and unnoticeable speed, the arrowheads flew from the end of the cold bone and perfectly into the chests of the unprotected soldiers. The once innocent-looking stranger shown in a new light for the men as the lights of their lives were extinguished in as much uniform as they had fired the arrows. They could merely clutch their chests in pain as they sunk to the ground, groans slowly dying away as they did. No blood spilled from their bodies as they fell limp to the ground, the wounds having been cauterized from the mere friction of the speeding arrowheads.
Without taking a moment to look behind him at the pain on the men’s faces, knowing they were dead, the stranger walked away coldly. He retracted the milky white bones into his palms that seemed to seal without consent of their master. The wind seemed suddenly gone as the stranger walked away, into the night. The only sound that remained was the soft pitter-patter of blood droplets that fell from the traveler’s fingertips.
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