The Fight for Survival: Vilxin Drakz

[Witchblade]

The arrival of the boy was a little surprising, after all human children just do not interact with demons, but then again, humans will always surprise you in their actions and this one surprised her. The kid one unique ability all right, to summon toys from…somewhere. It was weird yet beneficial because he was able to do what she was not and start getting the Magim Beasts comfortable. Now that they were looking much better they could slowly lower the temperature getting them used to the colder climate up here bit by bit.

Of course, with the addition of the boy came a few problems. Storm and his giant ego of his got the better of him—of course if she were to be whipped in the back by a demon she’d probably do the same thing. Of course, now the human was finding himself being dragged away and the halfling’s first instinct was to stop them but it wasn’t her place. She was just another helper here, though they didn’t sneer at her like they did him because she wasn’t human she was not their leader and whatever fate befell Storm for his actions, there wasn’t really anything she could do about it.

Then again, who knows.

Sighing, Witch ignored the addition of the two children, Tobias and Kaza, Zieg’s son, and followed after Storm who was being dragged to one of the large tents set up throughout the encampment. She had a feeling that was only going to be a reprieve though, they were probably going to publicly beat him thinking that would bring him down though she knew that would only anger him further.

Once inside the tent, the demons continued to hold Storm down until Zaketh came in, the General leading this whole brigade. By the look on his face, the halfling could tell Zaketh wanted nothing more than to teach this human a lesson, but that wasn’t really going to help the situation. Somehow that would probably make it worse.

“I’m sure you’d like nothing more than to teach him a lesson right now…” The halfling began, not really sure what she was going to say since negotiating with demons was not something she did often. Hell, talking was not something she did often, “Truthfully, it was the demons fault for attacking him with a whip. You probably don’t want to hear that, but really, if some coward bastard attacked me from behind with a whip I’d rip his face off too.”

She didn’t know if that would even help the situation. But well, she had to try something, otherwise they might end up having a few more dead demons on their hands and that would not be good.



(Sorry, I didn’t really know what to do and I didn’t want to bunny your character.)

[Storm Veritas]

The water which hit his face splashed up in a freezing spray, burning his lungs and skin with its frigid grasp. Before him, a tall, looming demon lurked, grinning at him wickedly as he rubbed his chin with a large, thick boned paw. A deep, sadistic laugh came from the man opposite him, standing not six feet away and brandishing a long, jagged blade. The light in the room was composed solely of a single candle lantern, which painted the face of the demon with a sinister malice. The cackle was terrible, and Veritas was more than worried.

“To defy the demons, and slay one of the eld… you shall pay with your life, human.”

Large, thick shackles surrounded his wrists, and his topless torso was stretched taut, his wrangled black hair now tousled. Soreness sang from his lips and face, swelling and bruising evident but periphery. The shackles, worse yet, were of some incredible hardwood, nothing he could run a charge through. He was helpless.

Son of a bitch. So this is how I go out? After all this, one kill does me in?

The lights hadn’t been out for long, he imagined, but there was no way to tell. When the demon approached, Storm reared and spit, unable to move but defiant at the end. Thin, watery, and weak phlegm missed the assailant, who then gainfully plunged the awful knife through tender flesh. It rended his abdominals, a searing and indescribable pain. Within a single breath he was buckled in agony, the scream of terror from his belly not suppressed by his lungs. He was dying.

Lifted to his feet, he was dragged from the tent, laid on the ground in the town square. His arms were tied to the ends of a long post which ran behind his head, and he couldn’t raise himself from the earth. He heard the chirp of rats screaming with delight as he was discarded before a band of cheering demons.

“Help… help me….”

He was here, pathetic and worthless. Just as they wanted him to be. Strewn on the ground, half naked and unprotected, helpless against the stinging bites of rats, feasting on his innards. The blood was leaving him quickly, and he would be out soon, fainting from a spell he would likely not recover from.

Whatever happened to him next was of no control. The mighty Veritas was helpless.

[Witchblade]

Witch looked at the prone figure of Storm as the rats began to feed on him before he was even dead. She heard his words asking for help and felt the life begin to drain out of him. His heart was starting to beat slower and his skin was taking on a deathly pale tone. No one around seemed at all to care though; they were just enjoying the sight of another human dying by their hands because he had killed one of their own. Her words spoken in the tent had done nothing to help him, they’d only ignored her as if she had spoken nothing or that her opinion mattered little and that she was just another human to them. Human was far from what she saw but she wasn’t about to educate them in that department. What she was about to do was show that no one got away with beating and leaving one of her allies to die no matter what he did.

“Daegun, go untie him.”

The little white dragon perched on her shoulder jumped down to the ground and ran over to the figure of Storm. Some of the rats feasting on him ran for their lives at the thought of something larger coming their way but the majority of them ignored the dragon and continued biting into flesh. As Daegun bit through rope, Witchblade excited the ions around her hands, which quickly exploded into blue flames. Launching one small fireball after another she was able to drive the rats from Storm’s body, now littered with tiny bite marks and bleeding in more places than she cared to count. He looked horrible. He looked like he was on the verge of death and he pretty much was.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

One large, oversized demon stepped between her and Storm asking a most ridiculous question as if her motives weren’t plainly clear.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

The demon wrapped his hand around the hilt of a blade at his side as if ready to pull it out at any moment. Though she could probably take him down she wasn’t sure how quickly she could dispose of him and Storm’s life was slowly bleeding out of him. She didn’t have time for this. Her eyes narrowed and the flames around her hands extinguished themselves. Only one way to deal with this. Concentrating, the halfling began to draw on the darkness within her and the surroundings as shadows began to move slowly towards her and gather in a ball hovering an inch away from her palm. It didn’t take long since she was only powering up one and before the demon had much time to react, Witch smirked and fired the magic straight into his chest. Upon contact it grew to around four feet in size, enveloping his entire upper half. When it dissipated there was a charred and very dead body of what was once a demon.

Stepping over him, Witch calmly walked over to Storm and knelt by the human. He’d bled out quite a bit and she was unsure if her simple healing magic would do it for him. If it didn’t work fast enough he’d have to drink her blood but she’d only do that as a last resort. Taking a deep breath she called upon the light this time and slowly a ball of white energy began to form in her palm. After a few more seconds of concentrating and a light sheen of perspiration forming on her forehead it was of sufficient size. Slowly she lowered the mass of energy into Storm’s chest, watching as his body absorbed it, hoping it would be enough to save his scrawny little ass. He’d feel a nice tingling warmth sensation and perhaps a bit of an uncomfortable feeling as the wound was pulled closed, but first and foremost it would stop the bleeding.

[Storm Veritas]

The life within him faded, his vision blurring, his skin feeling cold and hot at once. The blood that fell from him was life, and he felt it leave with a terrible fastness. There was no stopping it, no ceasing, no salvation. Here, he would die, humiliated and executed like a common criminal. The mighty had more than fallen.

And yet, as is wont to happen upon Althanas, fate played the strong hand. “Impossible odds” did not exist in this land, for the incredible was nearly commonplace. A little thing skittered about, a high pitched yelp and the scattering of the rats. A soft, distant sounding explosion resonated nearby. The witch squatted near him, her darkness looming with some obscure promise. Feeling the hand upon him, the warmth and the buzz and the heat, the pain stopped, and the vision cleared a bit. He wasn’t strong, but he was certainly more conscious, more alert. The ropes were cut, his wooden shackles freed.

”Ungh… oh, motherf*cker…”

He couldn’t offer any grace or thanks, nor could he stand to face his attacker. He didn’t know where the massive demon was, nor what they would do with him. He wasn’t sure still that he would live, as the burn in his stomach was not completely gone. The cool winds whipped about him, his head spinning as those things that were at once freezing and horrible and incredibly loud left him hapless.

Get up. Show strength. You can make it through this, but not if they see you like this. The troops can’t see you like this.

His will was strong, but body weak, and no degree of determination would override it. This was pain, anguish, horror, and fear. Fear of death, fear of the insecurity of his future. They could come and judge him and be rid of him, and he doubted that Witchblade would save him again. Of course, he hadn’t figured out why she had helped him in the first place, but some things were not to be questioned. Perhaps the bizarre old bitch had grown some strange fondness for him. Perhaps she just wanted to watch him linger longer.

And what of the boy? That brave young fighter, that Storm had hoped would serve as Messiah. Where was he now? Where were those grand powers that could help Veritas?

And what of that cocksure demon general? What would he have to say? What would be his treatment for Storm? Death? Instant execution? Torture? Incarceration. None were options that he wished to consider.

Many questions flooded his head as he squirmed on the ground, the once proud warrior writhing like a fish pulled into the boat. The questions scared him as he struggled to gain footing and rise, but not as much as the answers.

[Witchblade]

Due to inactivity this quest will be closed and placed in the Haide Archives. I thank all of you for your participation in Zieg's FQ. You will receive small rewards for your writing thus far, however since the quest was not finished you will not receive full rewards.

Toy Soldier receives 250 experience!

Storm Veritas receives 250 experience!

Witchblade receives 250 experience!

Zieg dil'Tulfried receives 100 experience!

[Cyrus the virus]

EXP added!