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Masters of Blood and Darkness

 
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7/10/2008 3:36:40   
mastin2
Member

Masters of Blood and Darkness Drop a Comment Here!

By Mastin

Intro:

“Hello! I am Darax Darix Derex…yea, that’s my full name…I want to kill my father for his lack of creativity, but you can call me any of those. But since Darax is my first name, of course that is what I’d prefer you to call me. I, as a young child, was what you might call a…spoiled little brat. I’d rather not go into details, but I shall tell you how that changed. I, at the time, was only 15, and had grown to be a slightly less…annoying man. Of course, I was still trouble, and growing up in a somewhat noble house, I had plenty of opportunities to cause it! The first thing that changed about me is how unusual my injuries were…or rather, the lack of them.

Since birth, I have always had an unusual ability…my wounds would heal at an abnormal, not humanly possible speed. In the world of Lore, this is nothing but a fluke; some humans have superhuman abilities, especially those training in magic. However, I would later discover the truth when I was sparring with my brand new red katana, embedded with the symbol of my noble family, the Chimera. My partner had been a life-long friend, a half-vampire my age named Clyde. He, in all aspects, is a vampire, with two exceptions…he has discontinued the practices, but he occasionally took basks in the sunlight, and enjoyed feasts of garlic. His pale skin, red eyes, and black hair, however, show who he, at heart, is. His thirst is that of a vampire, but wouldn’t you know? We live in a mansion; it is not hard to find donations from willing servants. It’s not like it kills them to give a couple drops or anything.

Anyway, he was a good friend—and still is—but he was also my fencing trainer. Being in a noble house, I had already mastered the bow, perfected the art of magic, and become quite an expert at hand to hand combat. Today, I was not to train my arts at sword and shield, as I was confident my skills there would be no higher, but in two handed sword on sword action. Clyde was more of a threat, considering to this very day, his speed, strength, and dexterity far outmatch my own. So it was not a shock when he accidentally cut me…only this cut was supposed to be a lethal kind. He had accidentally slit both of my wrists, and they bleed at twice the rate of a normal human. But after a few seconds, the wounds had healed. I had felt nothing, even though I had loss more blood than a normal human has in their whole body. My gift could not be ignored, and Clyde had panicked “We need to get you to a hospital!” Of course, he was technically under my command, so I simply told him “No, as who knows what this gift could do? I might harm others, or maybe they’ll lock me up forever. Cover up this scene by having a little bit of a feast.”

Reluctantly, he agreed, and we set off after gathering our supplies…my bow, my staff, my longsword, my shield, and of course, my katana. I decided that I’d find what kind of gift I had, and Clyde decided that it would be best if I went alone. “You know, I’m only half vampire, but if I spent some time amongst ‘purebloods’, I think I too would become more powerful.” We would not see each other again until we both had become more powerful, and we had left our home behind for the promise of adventure. I soon found out that there were others like me…the Blood Masters. I seriously doubt all who find this are members, and the names of the leaders are almost all secret, but I can tell you this…it is run by six members—the leader called Divx—who each have their own style. Divx’s style is pure longsword; the other five become more unique as they go along…one of his lieutenants uses a longsword and shield, while the other uses a yellow staff with one slightly sharp end. Then there are the other three…one uses a drill, another a magical giant nail, and the last uses some sort of weapon that he calls a ‘combination of a spear, sword, staff, gun, and other things that are top secret’. Quite an odd group, but it did not take me long to discover that they are, while small, some of the most powerful, no, THE most powerful, mages around. ‘Red Mages’ are the names given to the greatest members of the order, as when I joined, only the six had that title.

I rose quickly in the ranks. I was born to be a member of this order, and nothing could stop me from growing. I had my staff modified to be closer to that of the second style, but kept my family insignia on there. My longsword kept its place with my shield, after both were modified; they were both painted red. But they kept that famous insignia on them. And they were unique in their own ways…the shield, unlike the round shields of the order, was that of a noble, and yet had been changed to weigh less than a standard wooden shield. The longsword had a single silver spike added at the bottom for puncturing into my own body, as a way to access my full power. In addition, if I chose to do so, I can force the Longsword to rotate in sections at speeds too high to describe…I won’t lie to you, and I admit that it was inspired by style four. I also learned to use a small nail, though not as useful as that of style five. Mostly, I use it to puncture my finger for my own style. I had mastered every style, but I still was not satisfied, so I continued my growth rate, fighting our evil ‘black blood brothers’. They were formerly members, hundreds of years ago, when they were killed, then reanimated as something similar to undead. But still, despite the threat of ‘corrupt’ blood masters, my power was not limited. I became so powerful, I invented my own style.

The style uses fists as the primary weapon, though uses everything. I, myself, use my katana more than anything else, but I also use the other equipment I’m blessed with. My secondary weapon, and also secondary weapon of my style (which, by the way, has about 50 users), is my bow, also completely redesigned by me. It now has a rather odd appearance.
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Now, I hate making such primitive sketches, but there is no other way to describe it. If I tried using words, I would end up speechless, as I could only tell you that it is red, and still bears my insignia. After the bow, for me comes fists, for my style comes the katana. Shortly after, there is the drilling (only in emergencies is the drill to be used) longsword and noble shield style. I still have that blue outline on my shield, along with an even thinner yellow trimming, but the followers of my style use all red for their shield. Now, after that I use my staff. It’s not like it’s my weakest style, if anything, it is one of my strongest. But occasionally, I do mix things up a bit, so sometimes, I use my staff as my first. It makes a rather nice walking stick, so if I’m tired or lazy, I’ll use it, and in battle, not bother to switch.

But in the end it does not matter what style, or what weapon you use. My only goal, now at my age of 21, is to become the seventh member of the council. I earned the title ‘Red Mage’ a while ago, and I certainly have enough followers, but I first have to prove myself. This brings us ever so close to today, when I am writing this. I was assigned to go investigate a certain rumor in Darkovia about the return of The Drakes, consisting not of dragons, but of mutant lycanthropes and vampires. Safiria decided to help by sending one of her star now-generals, also one of her supposed best. I, in turn, find out it is my good old friend Clyde, now called Clyde Pure Silverfang. Apparently, he earned his reputation through peace, only killing when necessary, but also from killing any who opposed him inside the vampire order. Mostly comprised of those discriminating at his blood, Clyde’s adversaries could not help but to learn quickly that he is more of a vampire than they. I write this just a few days after our departure, and this shall arrive in safe hands within a few days. With luck, by the end of the week, my name will go down in history.”

< Message edited by mastin2 -- 7/10/2008 3:39:23 >
Post #: 1
7/10/2008 3:46:15   
mastin2
Member

Chapter One:
“Shadow’s Slayer: Clyde’s One Fear”


“You writing our will, Darax?” Clyde, in the dark, asks as Darax releases the raven to deliver his message. Darax laughs at this, at which he simply replies “You wish. We’re probably two of the most powerful fighters alive, so don’t count on out deaths.” The two share some further laughs before Clyde stands up from his old position of leaning against a tree with his knees up. The two had quickly gotten reacquainted, now wishing never to leave each others’ sides again. “So, still plan on getting that seventh seat, Darax?” “So, still intending to become the most powerful vampire alive; possibly leader of them as well?” The two laugh at each others’ questions, both knowing the answer is still yes. When the two finally get moving, Clyde has his vampire sword swung over his back and Darax with his katana slung in a similar fashion. The two travel along the paved road on the outskirts of Darkovia forest, the tall evergreens showing signs of becoming darker. Clyde had to come to Darax to make it more convenient, so now they had to travel all the way back. “So, how good is your toleration of sunlight?” Darax asks as he steers his head to face his good friend who simply replies “Not as good as it was. To take a bask in the sun, I’d have to use suntan lotion, though for travel, I fare just fine.” “Too much time spent in a place with no light?” “You could say that. Like I said, I also gave up my unusual eating habits, as my breath alone would kill my comrades. Good for killing my enemies, but really bad for my reputation.” The two share an even louder laugh, ignoring the fact that they had just entered under the arch separating normal trees from Darkovia.

When the two finally are consumed by the darkness, they take no note of it. “So, how far is it until we start searching, Clyde?” “About ten minutes at our current pace going the long route. The short route takes us through Shadow Slayer patrolling grounds and I am their primary victim, if you know what I mean. Even our current path is dangerous encounter-wise, but it’s the best available.” This has Darax slightly on guard; he wishes to avoid the fight until those who he knows are enemies attack. However, he can sense a shadow moving in the dark. “Hey, for a ‘shadow slayer’, you sure hide in the shadows a lot, don’t you?” Darax asks as he draws his katana, ready for an unfortunate fight. Clyde, however, seems to be petrified. He may be only half-vampire, but he fears what he now faces more than any full-blooded vampire; he is number one on the top-ten wanted vampire list.

However, he manages to move as two silver bullets graze by where his head once was, but he himself is on the ground, petrified. “I assume this is your patrol area, slayer, but might I get the privilege of actually seeing the one who is attacking my friend?” The figure in the shadow sighs, his element of surprise lost. Stepping out, a blond-haired man wearing pure black steps forward, his famous shadow slayer pointed hat standing out above all. “Any who side with vampires meet the same fate, traveler, so leave now before I kill you.” Darax merely smiles at this, noting how the slayer has drawn his holy water, his light grenade, and his garlic surplus. When discarding them on Clyde, however, Darax just lets them go off. “The slayer thinks I’ve backed down. Perfect.” However, he is just waiting. Blam; the grenade goes off. Splash; the water is poured all over Clyde, still paralyzed with fear. Smear; the garlic is rubbed against areas that are sensitive even to humans such as the eyes. Confused, the slayer again looks. Clyde is still motionless, but not because he is dead; he just can’t seem to resist. Inside the mind of the attacker, he is questioning “Why in the name of Lorithia is he not dead?” To experiment, he pokes the vampire in the hand with his witch blade; the silver does not spread. “Silver’s poison to them, yet still he lives. Why?” Darax smiles at his opponent’s confusion and proceeds to swipe him off his feet. The slayer most likely would then resort to cutting Clyde’s head off and that WOULD kill him. So this act would most likely prevent that; now Darax holds his katana to his attacker’s throat.

“Clyde’s only half vampire; he is immune to all your tricks,” Darax explains as he urges the slayer not to stand up. However, the slayer has a job to do, as he mutters “Forgive me, Lorithia, for I must carry out my duties. If I need to kill another human, then so be it.” Darax hears the sound but not the words, so he drops his guard for a millisecond; that is all the slayer needs. With a single swipe of his foot, now the slayer has Darax on his feet quite shocked. Darax is quick to react, however, and jumps onto his feet at the same time the slayer draws his blade. The two clash blades a couple times, the slayer quite impressed at Darax’s skills. Move after move is countered; they fight in a similar style. “Of course,” Darax thinks to himself “Blood Masters were originally enemies of vampires, despite being friends today. Our fighting style is heavily influenced by the works of art the shadow slayer produces, so it is time for me to improvise!” The two continue to fight, somewhat humorously being matched with great frustration and ease by their respective opponent. However, Darax takes a break and draws his bow, quickly dispensing three arrows. The slayer laughs and merely extends his blade to slice the arrows in half, only to find a dozen more from all angles. He ducks most of them, slashing at the rest, only to find even more. Desperately, he draws his gun and fires a round per arrow, countering perfectly.

“By Lorithia’s luck, why me? My gun is out of ammo; I used most of it up in an earlier hunt. My blade can only extend five times; I have used four. My other weapons are useless against humans, so do I have to resort to melee?” However, Darax is equally cursing at himself for having lost all but two of his arrows. Darax considers his other weapons and using magic, but both will not be effective as his blade. With that thought, the two charge again, both cracking their blades. To both’s surprise, they both mutter the well-known curse “Oh, ‘Galin’s curse! Why did it have to happen now?” Both reluctantly stop fighting, lowering their weapons in defeat. “I won’t be defeated by you, stranger to our lands.” “Nor I, you, slayer.” However, before their verbal assault reaches a peak, the two are interrupted by the sound of a monster; in front of them stands a large vampire with the wings of a dragon. “You two have weakened each other to the point where you are no match for me!” Both reluctantly stare at each other, Darax then asking “Hey, can you overcome your preconceptions about my friend here for a while so we stand a chance?” “I can accept that.” “What’s your name?” “Simply call me Shadow Lightbane.” Clyde finally overcomes his fear; he magically senses that his foe will not kill him now. He stands up to join the other two, hoping that this will end well. “Sorry, Darax, but I couldn’t overcome my fear until now. Shadow, eh? You are one of the most feared slayers, aren’t you? Well, Darax, let’s see what our opponent has.” Two more cracks in the branches reveal that another figure is approaching. And then another. Three more reveal that at least a small squad of figures is approaching, ready to kill. “Alright, Shadow, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Post #: 2
7/10/2008 3:48:26   
mastin2
Member

Chapter Two:
“It Appears We Have a Problem”


The three approaching figures reveal themselves; now two dracovamps are ready to kill and the other two seem to be furry half-human, half-beast monsters, and their yellow eyes glowing with unimaginable bloodlust. The same wings from the dracovamps also seem to be sprouting from their backs, revealing their identities. “Lycadrakes,” Shadow mutters, barely being herd.

“This is bad; we face a whole squad of them. I’m declaring the threat officially confirmed, Clyde.”
“That is, if you live to tell about them, Darax. One is a fully transformed dracovamp, no human parts left.” As if to confirm this statement, the dracovamp in front’s eyes glow with an evil red, blood its only objective. The black skin covering this beast is harder than most metals, enhanced by dragon scale. The black wings resemble those of a giant bat, suiting the darkness of Darkovia. The yellow claws on its fingers are ready to rip the group to shreds and the superhuman strength provided from the power of dragons and fully transformed vampires enhances the deadly force. The vampire has long red incisor teeth, serrated as a gift of the dragon blood coursing through the monstrosity’s veins.

The supporting vampire still maintains a human-like form, but she is not human nor vampire. Her white fangs still seem to be a trace of her vampire side and her human-like form gives her the bonus of being able to wield a weapon. Her vampire sword is identical to Clyde’s, but the dark power emitted from hers gives a hint of the evil within. Black wings sprout from her back as a reminder that she no longer serves the vampire queen and has sold her allegiance for dragon power. Her armor is black with red trimming, similar to that of Clyde’s. For all anyone can guess, she might have once been only half vampire. Clyde—to himself—is muttering “Traitor”.

The Lycadrakes are no better; one of them seems to maintain the features portrayed from a normal werewolf. Brown fur covered in white armor with a brown trimming; this is normal. The double-edged light blade he wields; normal. The yellow eyes; slightly more evil but otherwise normal. The white fangs; normal for his half-human form. But what isn’t normal is the silver wings that are sprouting in the same fashion as the vampires; they hint his draconic blood. The last, however, might be the most frightening of all: A beta-werewolf who betrayed his kind for the power of the dragons.

The yellow eyes are still normal; the silver fur is not. His full werewolf blood makes him have no human features; only lycan and drake features remain. His large muscles portray his power, his red claws paint a picture of his ferocity, and his yellow teeth say just how ready he is to rip a chunk of flesh away. The incisors of his teeth are visible as well, though that is not the worst. His growl shows that he has lost his senses; he’ll fight until he dies. The Golden wings that come from his back display his power, as a slight aura can be felt emitted from it.

“Darax, Clyde, it appears we have a problem.” Both Clyde and Darax turn their heads towards Shadow, wondering why he would say such a thing. “Shadow, that’s really a ‘no, duh’ thing to say! We don’t need you to say it; we need you to help us here!” Darax shouts as he draws his bow with a silver-tipped arrow. He’d have to make his two shots count, as would Shadow with his one blade extension left. Clyde may fare the best of them, still having access to his vampire powers, but he himself is not enough; any of the four can easily defeat his magics.

“Alright, they at least seem to have some sense in them, Darax, Clyde, so let me tell you this: You may already know it, but those charging blindly can be dispatched with a single blow while those who stay back are planning their attacks. For those foes, every shot counts, so we must be careful here. In the best of times, we’d be a match. Right now, we’re at weaponry, skill, physical, magical, and number disadvantage.” Darax then whispers “So what do we do to survive?” “Darax, I know not your abilities, but I do know my own and those of a vampire well. Clyde, I assume you use standard vampire attacks, so I can coordinate with you. Darax, you can support. If we’re lucky, we can…” There is no time to finish; the half-Drakes charge at full force. This is not a blind charge; this is organized. Surrounding the three, all four prepare their own attacks.

Darax shoots one of his arrows at the lesser vampire; she is the weakest of the group and an easy target. She blocks, but as her bad meets arrow, Shadow plunges his blade into her stomach. While only half vampire—similar to Clyde but only the other half is draconic—she still has vulnerability to silver; her eyes become blank, blood drops from her mouth, and she drops dead. However, this attack leaves Shadow open, as Darax blocks with his staff against the strength of the beta drake-wolf. A quick roll backwards and Shadow is at the throat of the remaining vampire, though he is quickly thrown back by the wings of the beast. Clyde stabs at the front while Darax parries the blows from both lycanthropes, giving time for Shadow to recover. Darax shouts to Shadow “Prepare your blade extension! The witchblade of the shadow slayers is well known to have that ability!” Shadow dislikes being ordered by anyone other than his superiors, but something tells him that Darax has a plan brewing in his head. “Stranger to Darkovia, what in the name of Lorithia are you thinking?”

Clyde again thrusts at the vampire, though this time the vampire merely shields himself with a magical darkness barrier. Darax stabs his staff into the lesser lycan, now pulling out his long sword and shield. When the beast recovers, he launches a fireball to catch his foe aflame; the lycan cries out in pain as he tries to put the fires out. Darax uses his shield to block the larger lycan, the shield barely holding. With a grunt, he slits his wrist using his long sword, enabling him to access much greater magic. With a blast of pure non-elemental magic energy, the werewolf is stunned, giving Darax enough time to grab the lesser lycanthrope’s light sword. He throws it to Shadow, who catches it without a thought.

Guessing the intentions of Darax, Shadow plunges the light sword at the vampire, knowing that it has a weakness to light. Clyde had distracted the vampire a moment before by shooting a portion of his own blood, temporarily activating his bloodlust. The blade from Shadow imbeds itself in the center of the vamp’s wings, the blade sticking out the other end through the solar plexus. Darax blocks the fury of the lycan again, his friend beginning to put the flames out. Clyde moves his attention to the lesser werewolf, leaving Shadow to take care of his specialty. The vamp cries out in immense pain, immobilized as Shadow thrusts with all his might his witchblade into the beast’s neck. Darax motions for Shadow to move to the side of the greater Lycadrake, at witch, Shadow finally understands why Darax wanted him to prepare the extension. Clyde sucks the blood out of the lesser werewolf’s neck, spitting the blood out knowing that a single drop swallowed might turn him into the thing he wishes to destroy. The lycan turns a little pale, his form looking more human. Like the lesser vampire, he could have been human once, but with his slow death from blood loss and scorched skin, it would be impossible to tell.

Three down, one to go. Darax had damaged most of his weapons already, so he knows he cannot go on for much longer. His shield has a giant dent in it for being pounded by the lycan, his staff has been bent from entering the lesser lycan, his katana was damaged when fighting Shadow, his bow has no arrows, and his little pen would be no use. All he has left is his magic, but he has now way to access those powers without being stuck first. His long sword is fine for the moment, but it can only stand so long against the fists of a lycan. Drilling mode active, he plunges the sword into the attacker’s right arm, leaving a large gap. The drills stop, locking the blade in its original position. However, it is embedded deep inside the lycan; only Darax can remove it. However, the lycan is in too much of a rage to let Darax get near.

Clyde looks up, knowing there is nothing he can do. He exerted himself in the battle and from just recovering from Shadow’s presence; his power had already been weakened. He sees Shadow moving next to the lycan, understanding the strategy. “So, Darax, you’ve done it again. However, I am worried about you myself. Your weapons may have been permanently damaged from this fight which I know you consider just a skirmish and your powers are half of what they should be. Something about Darkovia—which makes me stronger—makes you weaker, so even with your blood magic, you might not be able to win. Shadow is someone you trust already, I can see, but I can also see how you do not wish to rely on someone you barely know to save you.” Darax dodges a lethal slash, noting the yellow afterimage following the claws. He had allowed himself to be scratched, forcing a large amount of blood through the small gap on his arm. With a single push and both his hands focused, he concentrates the energy right towards the beast. The blast would be large enough to send even this creature flying back a hundred feet and it would dig deep into its skin, piercing even the deepest flesh. It is one of his strongest techniques, yet this beast counters with his own dragon-enhanced lycan light magic, nullifying the blast.

As Darax collapses from the effort, he can see the beast raise its claws, ready for a final strike. However, Shadow had been waiting for a chance where the beast has its armpit exposed, making a good spot to hit. The wings on the back would protect the beast, as would the ribcage, but the armpit is one spot where he knows that all things are vulnerable. The wings on his back protect him and the fur is like armor, but in this one spot, there is nothing. Extending his blade over a great distance, Shadow strikes with his extended blade, forcing all his magical energies through as well. Fire, light, earth, and a tint of darkness surge through the blade, combining with the silver to finally end this beast’s life.

Shadow then joins the other combatants by collapsing to the black dirt ground, exhausted. Clyde can’t help but muttering a phrase that should never be said; he mutters “Problem solved.”

However, the roar in the distance suggests that there are a lot more where that came from; half-drake monstrosities will overwhelm the area within the hour.

Darax hears it as well, so he simply mutters “It appears we have a problem, indeed.”
Post #: 3
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