WRITING The Bloodmoon Falls

Discussion in 'SHOWCASING' started by The Void, Feb 1, 2014.

  1. (This is one of the most recent sl's I was working on, for myself, when my last refuge of creativity became a place I no longer cared to be. It's not quite finished as I am undecided how I feel like ending it atm but I will post more of it here as I write it out. There will be about 4 posts done right in a row.

    I'm not sure if any thing in this personal sl will be considered too violent or descriptive but I don't think it is. However, if I need to put this in a spoiler thing, just let me know!)

    Silence reigned over a small clearing within the depths of a forest. Moments ago that clearing had been filled with the sound of swords clashing as armored figures danced with death. They had gathered to kill a single man. What remained was indeed a grisly scene if one were to stumble upon it.

    Swathes of blood covered the trampled grass and stained the bark of nearby trees. Seven bodies littered the ground, all wearing black armor with silver fluting and the symbol of Ozmosis on their breast plates. At least two of the dead looked to have been struck by lightning. Another appeared to have had their head cleaved in two by a vicious sword stroke. The remaining dead suffered various fatal blows from the very same sword.

    One being remained alive on the edge of the clearing, sitting with their back propped against a tree. A tall form in tattered and blood stained clothing. Their long, silver hair was matted with drying blood. One hand rested over a blood soaked patch of their midnight blue shirt, if one loaked close enough they would notice that blood oozed freshly between the fingers of that hand. Victory had been his but he had not escaped unscathed.

    Brilliant blue eyes, slightly faded, began to close slowly as the man kept the fingers of his other hand tightly clasped about the handle of his sword. His chest rose and fell unsteadily with each breath taken, a hint of a bloody froth staining his lips. He let his head slump forward till his chin was nearly resting upon his chest, blood stained, silver hair falling to completely cover elven features. He was done, too tired in so many different ways to continue, and so he was ready to simply let go as his eyes shut completely.
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  2. With eyes closed, the grievously injured elf's thoughts wandered. He had lived a long time, by human standards. He had committed acts of evil. Even with all the good he had done, he could never wash his hands of the blood that stained them from those darker years. Some would say he had atoned for the past, but he knew other wise. It was why he had withdrawn so completely from society. Why he had simply vanished without word to those who considered him a friend.

    The rise and fall of his chest slowed with each painful breath he drew in and exhaled. It was a great effort on his part to keep doing so. The grip of his hand upon the handle of his sword weakened some but tightened a moment later to the point that his knuckled whitened. The hand over the oozing wound, however, slid away with no effort to move it back. With that motion the blood began to flow more freely from the wound.

    Inwardly he laughed at himself. Laughed at fate. Yes, this was the end he deserved. The end he had earned for himself. Seth Bloodmoon, hero to some and a monster to others dying alone in a forest in the middle of nowhere. Yes, this was as it should be... He knew it was a pathetic thought and yet he didn't care.

    His mind grew fuzzy after that self scathing thought. The pain shooting through his injured body began to numb as he took another ragged breath and exhaled it several moments later, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth to drip off his chin. He felt cold and yet somehow warm. He tried to focus his thoughts but it was a futile effort and they simply drifted as they would as his body slumped over sideways.
  3. The clearing was nearly silent, save for the occasional squabble of carrion birds fighting over a gruesome morsel. Then there was a faint shimmering in the air in the center of the macabre scene. Slowly the shimmering took on the form of a portal from an unknown destination. The instant that portal stabilized a tall figure cloaked in black stepped out. Once out the figure waved a hand as pale as winter snow in a rather dismissive manner, closing the portal.

    For a long moment the cloaked figure just stood there, hooded head turning slowly from one side to the other as it took in the carnage. Turning about the figure then took in what was behind it. The sweeping gaze, lost in the shadowed depths of the cloak's hood, came to rest on the tattered and bloodied form of a tall, male elf, slumped on its side near a tree. From the look of things that elf was as dead as the unmoving, armored forms strewn about the clearing.

    Several long moments passed before the cloaked figure began to move again. Slow, purposeful steps carried it towards the fallen elven warrior. A carrion crow landed and prepared to peck at a patch of exposed flesh upon the elf's face. Before the beak could do any damage, the cloaked figure raised a pale, white hand, quiet words of magic issuing forth from the depths of its hood. As the words came to a stop the pale hand closed into a tight fist. With a squawk of surprise the bird exploded in a mass of gore and feathers. More of the birds let out irritated squawks a lifted into the air, beating a hasty retreat from the clearing before they met their own untimely ends.

    Coming to a halt in front of the fallen elf, the cloaked figure raised pale hands to shove back the hood of its cloak. This action revealed snow white, fine elven features set into a slight frown. Stray strands of hair, as white as the pale elf's flesh, were absently brushed out of his face with a simple gesture. No hint of emotion stirred in the crimson depths of this elf's eyes as he gazed upon what lay before him. The slight frown upon his lips deepened as they parted, "Well now, brother, it seems you got the short end of the stick..," a trace of scorn in his voice as he uttered the word 'brother', "A pity I missed the party.." There was, of course, no response from the fallen elf.
  4. The pale elf, Ixius Bloodmoon, slowly lowered into a crouched position, staring at his fallen brother with deep crimson eyes, head tilting from one side then to the other. This was a day he had been waiting for. Seth's death was something he had wanted for as long as he could remember. Hell, on occasion he had tried to bring it about. Once or twice he had damned near succeeded. And now, lying here before him was Seth. Dead. Or near death at the least. The faintest of smiles tugged at the corners of his mouth with that thought.

    Slowly he extended a snow white hand towards Seth's body, brushing aside a several locks of bloodstained, silver hair before letting his fingertips rest upon the side of his brother's neck. The flesh he touched was cool and deathly pale. Would there be a pulse or had life finally left this broken body? Ixius kept his fingertips pressed there for a long moment. Then then an annoyed frown took hold of angular features. It was faint, but somehow there was still a pulse.

    For an instant, Ixius struggled with conflicting emotion, though his expression was completely unreadable. Why couldn't the bastard just die? Granted it wasn't a sure thing Seth was going to survive this. Still, it rather irked Ixius that it hadn't already happened. How much blood could a person lose and still live? A few, annoyed words were uttered in ilarian elven as crimson eyes narrowed.

    A flicker of dangerous thoughts danced in the depths of those red orbs. Immediately a dozen spells came to mind that could easily finish the job. At the same time a few spells that could perhaps save his injured brother danced though his mind, but those he shoved aside without a second thought. Hell would have to freeze over before he'd ever lift a finger to save Seth.

    For a moment Ixius pondered simply slipping his hand around Seth's throat and squeezing until the guttering flame of life was snuffed out. It would be so easy, take so little effort. Indeed, his pale hand moved to place itself around his brothers throat and began to slowly apply pressure. Death danced in his eyes, though his expression remained unreadable. Who would have thought things would end up being so easy after the clashes the two of them had had in the past... Well, at the very least Ixius was an opportunist and this was indeed an opportunity.
  5. Several moments passed before Ixius let out a low growl of frustration. As much as he wanted to close his hand even tighter about his unconscious brother's neck he just couldn't. Despite the opportunity this offered him, it was too easy. There would be no satisfaction to be had in this, and that aggravated him to no end. Oh, he would take Seth's life some day, but that day would be when his brother was in better health. When he could crush his brother completely. This left Ixius only one option if he wanted to see such a day. If he did nothing now, Seth would die.

    Uttering a curse in ilarian elven, Ixius glared down at his fallen brother, releasing his grip upon his neck. A long moment passed with him just crouched there, coming to terms with the course of action he was about to take. Then he shifted slightly, his lips beginning to form strange words as he lifted his right hand to trace an intricate pattern in the air. As he drew upon magical energy, his hair began to shift, as if fluttering in a light breeze. The expression upon his pale, elven features was one of sheer exhilaration as he worked his spell, bending that energy to his will.

    With his right hand still tracing in the air, he extended his left hand, resting it upon Seth's chest. The moment contact was made, a faint blue glow began to form around the fallen elf's body. Ixius' lips continued to moved, though no sound pass through them now, the blue glow intensifying with each passing moment. When the glow reached its highest intensity, Seth's body tensed and shuddered as if wracked with agonizing pain, though his eyes did not open and no sound escaped his lips. The fallen elf's worst injury began to slowly mend from the inside out.

    Several minutes passed before Ixius's mouth stopped moving, his right hand lowering to his side. The blue glow that surrounded Seth's body began to slowly fade as all tension suddenly left the injured elf's body. Once the glow had faded completely, Ixius withdrew his left hand from over his brother's chest. When Ixius completely released the magical energy he had drawn upon, a look of disappointment played across his pale, angular features. That look was soon replaced by one of complete disdain for what he had just done, crimson eyes narrowing as they focused upon Seth's still unconscious form, "This wasn't done out of love, brother, let me assure you of that," growling those words, not caring if they would be heard.

    With that done, Ixius rose to stand, swiveling about and striding away. He would seek satisfaction another day and it would make up for this moment in time. There were important matters he had to attend to. Matters that would further his own ambitions. As he walked, he tapped into magical energies once more, though no words were spoke. Nor did he make any hand gestures this time. His tall form seemed to waver and then it was simply gone.
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  6. Darkness... An acceptance of death... Then agonizing pain... Brilliant blew eyes flew open as Seth drew in a deep breath of air. Almost immediately he regretted that action as the stench of death and decay filled his nostrils. He could even taste it in his mouth. Rolling onto his side he emptied the contents of his stomach stomach. For a long moment dry heaves followed, which in itself was a painful experience. When the spell passed, the tall elf flopped onto his back once more. The only thing he could think was... why?

    Why was he still alive? When death had extended its hand to him, he had readily grasped it and let go. Yet here he was now, alive and kicking. This had to be some kind of cruel joke. In that moment a bout of manic laughter shook his weakened body as tears of frustration trailed down his blood and dirt stained cheeks. The sudden sound startled the carrion birds that had settled once more to feed upon the corpses of the dead that lay strewn about the small clearing. They screeched and made their displeasure be known, but soon enough they settled down to resume their gruesome feast.

    After several minutes of losing himself completely, Seth fell silent once more. For a long time after that he simply lay there staring up at the sky as tears continued to flow unabated. Eventually the flow stopped, though he made no effort to move from where he lay after that, ignoring the feeling of bugs crawling over his body. He contemplated just laying where he was until he simply wasted away or some predator happened along and decided he would make a good meal. Either thing would bring about his end and give him the eternal slumber he longed for.

    Then a part of his mind rebelled against the very idea of simply laying in one place until death extended its hand to him once again. He knew he was a sad and pathetic creature, yet not that damned pathetic. Slowly he rolled onto his other side, so as not to end up in the puddle of his own vomit, and from there he pushed himself shakily to his feet. For a long moment he stood still, for fear of crashing back to the ground if he moved. Once he was confident in the stability of his legs he staggered slowly out of the clearing and into the forest. With a single thought, as he walked, his longsword vanished from the patch of ground it lay upon and appeared back in his right hand. The tall elf looked like hell, but he was alive. While he was not happy with this little twist of fate, he would trudge on.

    ((And this concludes this poorly written little escapade lol x_X))
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