Yeah i know its been an age and a half since i posted some fiction up here, and STO: Fall Of Arturo isn't finished is just on a hiatus for a while as I write some things that a more inspiring to me now, which is Darkest Hearts, a series of dark fantasy stories set in a moderns setting where magic and science go hand in hand.
These stories are only short stories and art going to be posted in order that they occur just in order that i write them and will explore different styles and formats as i try learn more skills.
Martyr's Birth
There was the sound of scrapping
iron as the heavy bolt was drawn back, then creaking as the heavy oak door drew
open a fraction and the old man peered out. His eyes when wide at what he saw,
that was all he could do as within a second most of his skull, brains, hair and
blood were spraying behind him.
The man kicked the door open and
stepped in firing more shots from the high powered Long Arm, exploding more
bodies that had been milling around the cathedral atrium. The white and gold
banners of the order of the Sacred Flame were drenched in blood and gore. The
only sounds were those of foot steps, some belonged the paladins and guards,
metal scrapping on stone and soft leather scuffs now rushing to the sounds the
disturbance. The other was the sound heavy leather riding boots echoing through
the lofty spaces.
They came face to face with a man
stood in the doorway to the main area of the cathedral and behind him a vision
of pure horror. The man was tall, six foot four and pale as ice, with deep
purple eyes which seemed to glow from behind a fringe of black hair. He wore an
old fashion dark green military uniform jacket with silver buttons, black
leather cross belt, the trousers were leather reinforce and thigh high black
leather boots. Held loosely across his body at waste height was what looked
like a 1800s flintlock, though it had a magazine attached, it was about 48
inches long with a barrel that looked like it fired anti tank rounds. At his
hip was a pistol of similar design, and a heave brutish looking sword with a
brass hilt and hand guard which seemed to have a soft blue glow coming from
where the hilt met the scabbard. He smiled and a single pair of fangs showed
through, an aura of darkness surround him.
Though some of the less
experienced guard froze up as this site, the paladins and the more experience
guards charged forward to kill the intruder, they barely managed eight steps
before the high powered Long Arm cut them down. The cathedral’s floor turned
from solid stone floor to a slick blood coated mess. Whether they were frozen
in terror, charging in righteous fury, the Long Arm turned them all in to
equals.
Argustus stepped on the blood
barely noticing the difference in grip his boots had, the wretches needed to
die, to be made an example of and taught a lesson. He had been ordered to be
their instructor in relaying a message. Attack the Darkest Hearts and suffer!
He place the Long Arm on a pew and walked down the central isle, freeing the
pistol from the holster and the heavy cavalry sword from its scabbard as he
went, slaughtering the survivors who cowered hiding from him in the rows of
pews.
He passed the alter leaving it
alone he had no intention of wasting time destroying these fools pathetic
faith, it meant nothing, changed nothing at all. He smashed another oak door
aside, his senses and heightened agility enable him to duck under a massive
blow from a heavily armoured paladins' Warhammer, using his pistol arm he
pushed the man’s out stretched arms up and drove the sword tip into the exposed
arm pit of the holy warrior. The blade plunged deep, tearing through the man’s
neck, twisting the blade to stop the flesh from sucking onto the blade and
pulling it out as the corpse fell. His undead heart barely beat as he shot the
other two paladins exploding their chest in a fountain of gore, bone and armour
shards.
The only thing between him and
the last door he needed to get through was a boy who couldn't even lift the
weapon he had been given. Argustus Dale leapt at the boy using his own blade to
disarm the whelp and smashing the pistol’s grip into his head almost knocking
him over, but before he could fall a pair of fangs tore into his throat. A
gurgling gutter scream erupted from the boy’s lips and faded almost as fast as
his life’s blood flowed down his neck as well as down Argustus’ throat. The
boy’s eyes grew dull while Argustus’ flashed bright purple, he then bit down
harder and smashed the pistol grip into the boys head again the force of the
blow causing the throat to tear apart as his head came unattached and fell to
the ground. He turned to from the body as it crumpled into a pile.
He stood before the final door
barring his way, he paused and with a small white cloth wiped the blood from
his face and pulled four vicious look barbed nails from the pouch on his cross
belt. Tilting his head slightly he approached the door and opened it as if his
previous actions had never happened calmly and relaxed entered the chamber. It
was only lit by a few candles mounted on one wall. In the centre of the room
was large desk, sat behind the desk was a woman in her late thirties, and just
to the side a pale girl of maybe twenty years.
Argustus strode around the desk
pushing the little girl back and grabbed the women by her forehead and threw
her against the back wall, as she impacted the wall he threw the two smaller
barbs which went through her palms stapling her to the wall. She screamed out
in pain. Argustus glace at the girl, she had collapsed against the wall and was
watching him, she didn’t move you almost couldn’t tell she was breathing.
“You know what this is about.”
His voice was flat, any emotions he was feeling weren't being betrayed. Even
his face was neutral.
The woman just groaned and
breathed heavily. Argustus struck each barb driving them further in, bringing
on another torrent of screams, in amongst these the word yes was barely
audible.
“We had left you alone, we were
happy not to get involved with you.” He was now angry, really angry, his blood
burnt within him but is voice was still cool. “Yet you just weren’t content,
you attacked the castle and killed fledglings, who were barely a week after
their rebirth.”
“So this is revenge?” her voice
thick with pain, hatred and a hint of mockery spat back.
Argustus tilted his head
slightly, “No, this is justice. I want answers, you will provide them.” This
statement was said almost with a smile.
“Only on a cold day in hell.” The
voice replied.
“I know you had help getting in
and where to strike. You will tell me who.”
“Fuck you, monster.”
Argustus smashed the two
remaining barbs down through her shoulder joints, shattering the ball and
socket joints, driving them all the way through piercing the woman shoulder
blades. She cursed and spat oaths at him. He smiled thinly and clicked a button
on the end of the barbs. Sharp spikes jutted out along their length as he began
to twist them in, tearing muscles, shredding flesh and grinding bone into
splinters. Amongst her screams and sobs he heard her submission, he leant
forward as she revealed the traitor.
He ran his tongue over his fangs,
a subconscious act when nervous or excited, he tore the barbs from her flesh
and let her fall to the slick flag stones. Wiping the barbs with the cloth as
he place them back in the pouch. With a snap of his fingers his Long Arm
appeared in hand, he slung it over his right shoulder and headed for the door.
Something grabbed his hands and tugged at him. The young woman was holding his
left hand her eyes were blank as she stared at him. For the first time he
appraised her as something other then a potential threat. She was pale, her
face was covered in bruises and cuts, she was bone thin, the clothes were
barely able to hang onto her.
The sound of footstep and gasps
of horror came from the entrance to the cathedral, snapping him back to the
situation. In a fluid motion of grace he unslung the Long Arm of his should and
catching it in his free hand, aimed it out of the door, pulled the trigger
three times to the sounds of scream and cries of pain echoing in great open space
of the cathedral. Smiling he pulled the young women close and stepped into the
darkest shadows where he could keep a line of site to a shadow near the
cathedrals entrance.
A few seconds passed before a
group paladins burst into the room surveyed the room, but saw only the Arch
Priest on the ground by the back wall. Two of the paladins pulled her up to the
desk and she slouched over it unable to hold herself up she dropped into the
chair one of the paladin place for her.
“Your Eminence?” one of them said.
She whispered something, only
that paladin and Argustus could here “It is time for a new Saint” the voice
wasn’t one of revenge or pain it was in fact it wounded triumphant.
The Paladin hefted his Warhammer
high above his head and slammed it down onto hers shattering the skull and
covering the desk in a deluge of blood, brain matter and cerebral fluid. The
other paladins gasped in shock and protested the action, but the lead paladin
raised a hand to placate them all and said in a raised voice.
“All will kneel before the new
Saint and Holy Martyr, Saint Saveen!” as he did so they looked at one another
dubiously then they knelt and heads bowed.
“Today, we shall see the
beginning of the end to the Darkest Hearts!”
Argustus smiled to himself,
looked at the girl as she just stared in front of her. Shrugged, looked at the
far shadow and pulled her through the one they were in and out of one by the
entrance. They could have their crusade, Lady Tenma would be waiting for them,
so would he, once he had given his report and dealt with the unfinished
business of the traitor. He would happily deal with these fools. He released
the girls hand and led the way out.
The girl followed, watching his
every move with awe at her saviour and she thought, the gods maybe cruel, but
devils were salvation.
