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myOtaku.com: Bloodmire

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Ok... well someone asked for the name today, so I shall greet you with this. This is all part of a series known as the "Lumerian Chronicles". In this series, there are three different book series inside the series. They are the Lumerian Cycle (( Name of this book series )), Lumerian Saga (( The story of my true main character)), and the Lumerian Prophecies ((The history of Lumeria that brought about everything))... Anyways, this is the Lumerian Cycle: Book 1: Twilight Sunris (( And for those who dont get the meaning ( Sorry, I know alot of you wont) The sunrise is the Golden Gryphon and the Twilight is Methodius and his gang. So... everyone got that... good!)) Oh... and yeah... Chapter 3 starts at the bottom.

Chapter 2

The castle Raigon, a once great kingdom in the Lumerian lands, now only a memory to those who pay respect. Now in ruins, only the castle itself now stands, with the towers and stone wall gates brocken down and scatter every where. Even the castle itself is covered in moss and vine, the scars of battle and the testement of time showing that nothing last. Nothing stays forever.
Yet, even though it seems to have been abondoned for many years, no one will enter this place of now evil. Tales of this place run far through the veins of mortal psyche, of ghost and demons who now run the halls of the great white knights. Creatures so horrible that there mere presence drains every bit of hope from your body and enslaves your soul. And just not that, but menacing creatures of death, known as Menaros, live in the courts and ruins of the castle, making life hell for any who even cross by the decriped old castle.

"So, this is Raigon. The kingdom of the Knights of Iord. A place I was once feared in my time of reign so long ago. I feel so... akward at this site. Almost like I am hurt in my heart of hearts by the destruction of such a foe. One that I deemed so worthy to be my match."
So slowly were these words spoken. The tinge of hate thick in the words. For Methodius, he had the deepest of loathing for this place of such power, a place he respect before his first death. To him, this was the greatest disrespect. Standing on the high ridge above the castle, he scowled at the mockery of his former foe.
For many who do not know the story of this character, he was once an evil warlord who ruled over the northern lands of Lumeria, thousands of years ago. At that time, he commanded armies of creatures that others could now, and trampled the land with his iron fist. Such was this man, that many, even the Knights of Iord doubted that they could win against such a glorious leader. That is why the story is so sad, to say, that no one knows how he was defeated or who defeated. Even though this would be called a blessing, many can not help but feel sorrow to learn that such a powerful man could end without a grand and honorable ending, that his death was caused by a hero of skill, that he did not die by giving up his blade. Such a sad tale.
But alas, he did die. Even without the knowledge of what happen, he did die. So, how could he be alive now, in a time much longer than he could have stayed? Well, any who looked at him could no the answer without asking. For once, he was known as a gorgious man that was envied by men and loved by women. Now, it was nothing more than scarred, burnt, and scaled, with his hair like darkness upon head, with two winding horns coming from beneath it. His eyes were of vermillion, his clear skin white with the veins deep blue, the scales black with red veins. His body was larger, armor of twisted grotesque, hellish black in all since. A mortal he was once, now a demon he be. That is the best to describe it.
With the high winds blowing across the mountains, his blood red cloak fluttered behind him, tugging on the round ruby pins that keep the cloak latched upon his shoulders. Peeking out just above the cloak, angled at his right shoulder, the handle of his devilish greatsword stood stock still upon his back. The gleeming eyes of blood red rubies locked in the sockets of the skull on the hilt, the grinning teeth of diamonds in its mouth, and a very discriptive, finely crafted iron finish. For such a weapon, there could be no equal to its dark elegance.
"Well, this is a site to be seen," spoke a voice of charming, simple with a sence of savvy that were not common among the masses, carrying a powerful feel for command.
The owner of the voice belonged to a strange looking man, his face obscurred by the low brim hat upon his head and a large brown scarf around his mouth. Strange dark orbs of black were held around his eyes, completely hiding anything to be seen, leaving much to be desired. With the collar of his brown coat up around his neck, long sleeves pulled further over the leather gloves, touching the ground with nothing to be seen of him. A tight black belt kept the long trench around his waist and a pair of short swords hung menacingly on both sides of him. Decorated in fine gems and exotic metals, the scabards spoke highly of the weapons themselves, siezed in their own multitude of colors and textures.
Turning his head to the odd man now standing next to him, he growled through clenched, sharp teeth. "This is no site of beauty, you fool. This is nothing but a tragic, endless humility to my name. For years, I fought these men, who gave me no ground to walk, no room to breath with my armies. They fought with courage that even I could not comprehend, for so futile it was. But now, look at this! They are gone! Destroyed by the men and women they fought so hard to protect! And only years after my own demise!"
Clenching his fist so hard that they shook, he could not hold back the want to slaughter the whole land for the insolence he now beheld.
Somewhat laughing at the scene of the large warrior, lost in his angry state, was comical to the peculiar companion. In his few years of travelling with this once known warlord, he had never found him douced in such emotion. Thinking that the his humanity was lost in the essence of the devil he had become, it was almost refreshing to see he was not at all, truly dead.
"Well, my friend. It seems you have finally surprised me. I thought you were just a cold blood leader who wanted to take over the world. Now, I can see that you are just as fragile as you were so long ago. Isn't that how you died? Wasn't from being develop in emotion of broken love and betrayal?"
He spoke as though he knew, there at the time of his death, with every word true to Methodius's mind.
"If you value your li... if you value your soul, you will be silent. I do not need to be reminded of my past..." breathing in a sigh, "Where are the others? Have they not made it up the mountain? We will be setting off soon and I do not want to be delayed by burdens if they can not keep up. "
On that last note, four more joined them at the ridges edge, four stange individuals, just as unique to the other pair.
"Is that how you see me then, Love? A burden on your back?" A voice of serene lust escaped from the lips of lucious red, a woman who seemed to glow with a desire that no man or woman could defy, a creature known in tales and legend of their evil and vile. A succubus.
Laying her hands upon the shoulders of Methodius, she stepped around him, her touch light. Comind to his front, she leaned upon his chest, feeling every masculine curve of his body as she did, the flow of crimson hair following in her flow. But this did not last long, as she was thrown from him, down to the ground behind him. He cared not for the wench, the lustful beast as she was, and never would he want her.
Turning to the rest of the four, he held a deep resentment towards their slow work and savage nature, taking time to make certain that nothing lived that cross their path. He had seen them do this many times, all of the trying to flay a scurrying mouse in a field of grass. It was so disgraceful to be given these as his "comrades" and he could feel it swell in his head.
Other than the Succubus, he was also acqainted with a large beast of mossy green fur, his snout long and filled with rows and rows of teeth, glossy white eyes staring from under two horns sticking straight from his head. He resembled a boar, though he had no hooves, but large human like hands. He also bore a long tail, curved in an arc to be just above his head, with three thin stingers splitting from the tail.
The next of the creatures was a small red impish creature, standing a little under three feet, skin of scales, and fire leaping from gapping holes in its back. His head was bare with the skin ripped away, leaving his scalp bald with bone. His eyes are large and wirling in black pools. Baring blistered and fragile hands, he seems to do nothing more than keep them wrapped in bloody cloth and rags, always whinning and talking in slow grumbles.
And as for the last, the strangest of the group, was a goopy little monster. Purple, it bubbled upon itself and moved slowly upon the ground. In its center, there were organs, not just human organs, monster organs, or any other creature to come to mind. They were just organs of all types. And for good reason for these, a creature just as it. Being a globius creature, it devours anything that it can eat, and then duplicate it. This is one of the most dangerious of the demonic beast and terrible of stalking beast.
But, none of them interest Methodius at all, being nothing but pawns to his use. Well, except for the one he was originally occampany by. The only person who he trusted the most. Why? Maybe no one really knows... but few could maybe find out.
" So, My lord Methodius, how shall we conduct our business at the Castle Raigon? Shall we charge in and decimate them with all out might? Or do you have a better method which will allow us to be more effecient? Though, I can make one suggestion if you do not mind. I like to wait till night, where my powers are more effective and I would not have to wear these redicolous clothing. So, what be your word?"
Looking back over the once pearl castle, Methodius grunted with much dissapprovement, but settled his thoughts on the plan of action.
"We shall do this in two teams," he began, staring at everyone with a dominable stare, "This will comprise of the first being me and Corendell. The second will comprise of the four demons, meaning you, Carmine, and the three pathetic existences. Now, Carmine, I want you all to attack the castles minions, the Menoras. Kill them anyways you wish and do as you please. I have no arguements. As for me and Corendell, we shall infultrate the castle, seeing that you wouldn't be that much use to us against real creatures of the dark. We shall begin at Dusk."

As the red skies burned in the setting sun, Methodius could not take his eyes away from its beauty. The small serenity of such peace was so far away from him, so far away that he could never reach its ends. Sadness touched his face and a simple shard of humanity clung to his heart. Such a sorrow to bare, giving up his life to the lords of Chaos, born again in this shell of human corpse. He cared not for it, desiring only what he had lost, being left with nothing more than that small tear that never wants to cry.
Touching his shoulder, Methodius moved his gaze to Corendell, his appearence different from the one that was once seen. No longer did he wear the strange clothing of the early day. Instead, he now wore the clothes of a noble, silk white shirt under a blanket black leather vest, pants of simple leather and clothe, and the same strange hat. Also, his pale white visage was clear to the eye, slender and elegant, commanding but passionate. Of course, these were given as part of the package of being a vampire. The ability to control and pursuade without a moments thought, and wielding a power that not even demons could dream. Pushing back his long brown hair, he seemed content on their mission and had a look of satisfaction at Methodius.
"Are you ready, my lord?"
Standing up, Methodius nodded. Walking up to the cliffs edge, he once again looked at Raigon, determination locked in his thoughts. Taking one more look at Corendell, he jumped out into the night.

Making their way down the rocky path to the castle, the four strange beast seemed to be arguing among themselves, saying crude things, and threating one another in absurd ways. But this was not unussual for them. They could never get along and always seem to be at each others throats, trying to gain dominence over the others. Of course, Carmine seemed to always have the upper hand of it all.
"Alright, now! We are almost there! Now, you know what we must do. As our lord has commanded, we must kill all of the Menoras. Leave not one alive. We have nothing to fear from them and we shall not fall! Let us make our lord proud!"
Snorting in laughter, the green boar spit a goop of purplish ooze at her feet. "You praise him as though he was a great demon. He did not send us here to fight with a purpose other than to die ourselves. Could you not see that gleam in his eyes as he told us. He believes us weak, not able to take on the Menoras. To die in agony! Do you not see?"
"Yeah! He wants us dead. Dead! Not alive! Not alive... He wants us to die!" speaking quickly and uncontrollably with a sound of a wimpering child, the small red imp began to go wild.
"Shut up! He did not send us to die? Why would he want that? He was ordered from the great demon lord to keep us around. He said we would be useful. Its not like he sent us here to get rid us, right?" questioned the defiant Carmine, her willingness to defend Methodius true and strong.
Suddenly, the blob changed and formed until it looked like a young male child, no older than the age of eleven. With sandy brown hair, crystalized blue, and a pair of shoddy clothes upon him, he was most likely a peasent child he had devoured some time on thier journey. Though, he looked young, he spoke with a voice of a man, many years older than that.
"Carmine... do we really need to answer that question. Of course the great lord sent us here to get rid of us. He knew Methodius would use us as nothing more than pawns in his games for power. Putting us out there in the fight with the Menoras is only a sham to remove us from his company. And, I have to be honest, he never needed us in the first place. Even I can see the power he wields is greater than we could even imagine. I suspect that the lord saw that to. I never seen him so impress by a human soul, nor make a deal with one. So, he must be special. That for me, makes it an honor to die for him, even if it is for nothing more than to die."
With that, they spoke no more, only continued the slow climb to the bottom.

Chapter 3

The council room was filled with the members of the Golden Gryphon, sitting around massive tables of fine alabaster and marbel. On every wall, there was a Symbol of the Golden Gryphon, shining in its awesome glory. Sitting on stands and placed up around the walls was also suits of armor and racks of weapons, placed there for emergency of any kind, be attack or other necessities. On a higher plateform on the far end of the room was the commanders table, long and covered in golden finery. And seated at this table were the most looked upon members in the Golden Gryphon.

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