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Purebloods (Book One)

In the heart of an Old World that has been filled to the brim with unimaginable horrors, one of humanity's final forces has founded itself. Yet, the glory days are long gone. With only the guidance of those who have come before them, the Purebloods- as they have chosen to call themselves- seek only the destruction of the creatures that have wreaked havoc on their world. It is in these times of unending disease and battle, that the hardest of choices must be made. The fate of this parallel realm rests in the palms of those from beyond its walls. Those, with nowhere else to call home.

D_S_Tanley · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
31 Chs

Addled Vermin

The sound of rapid, panicked splashing causes lake water to rain down on the heads of Briar and Belial, who remain oblivious to the threat that haunts Cronn. With his frantic motions, they can no longer hear any other sounds around them and become more unnerved as their third member remains nonvocal about what has caused his distress. Unable to see even their own noses, they proceed forward, not wanting to linger in the water for any longer than they must, and not wanting to provoke whatever it is that may have startled Cronn. Within moments, Cronn surpasses them with deep, rapid breaths as his face breaks the surface and then submerges again. As the sound of his open palms slapping at the water dulls with the distance he has created between himself and the others, the hissing of his pursuer is exposed to Briar's ears. Then, Belial's. Still being unsure of what it could be, Briar holds himself in place for a moment. Then, swims slightly to his right and reaches out for the source. As his hand runs over a scaly, reptilian spine, he gasps, clutching onto one of the bony spikes that protrude from it out of instinct. Feeling the water move around him, he estimates the speed of the creature to be at least three times that of his own. Realizing how fast it must be gaining on Cronn, he begins running through potential ideas, settling only on one. One with the highest risk of them all. Removing his crossbow from its holster, he flicks the lever that holds it together. Immediately, he clutches at one of the dual blades, allowing the other to float freely in the water by the string that binds them, so as to not lose his grip on the monstrosity in the lake. Acting fast and aggressively, he plunges the blade between two ribs, using it as a pick to keep himself in place. With an enraged grunt followed by more hissing, the creature submerges itself, taking Briar with it. Expecting this, he sucks in a breath of air and holds it as his face is hit with the ice-cold bowels of the lake. Now having a much sturdier grip, he reaches for the string, attempting to collect the second blade in his free hand. Yet, before he can, the creature begins twirling rapidly. Caught off guard by this, he loses his grip on the original blade. Flailing about, he brushes against the string and snatches it up as best he can. With a sudden jerking motion, he is pulled against the monster's grumbling belly as the string becomes wrapped around its body. Accepting this as an advantage, he slips the blade's grip into his fist and pierces the fleshy underbelly. Briar's ears ring harshly as the creature's jaws snap together beneath the water. A failed attempt at reaching its attacker before more damage can be done. Anchoring the second blade in place, he begins climbing up the string, where he returns to the first. As his throat begins to feel pinched from the lack of oxygen intake, he rushes to finish what he has started. Pulling the first blade free, he follows the string back down to the second. Once he arrives where it remains, with the string no longer entangling the greater crocodile, he digs the first blade in once more. With bubbles now freeing themselves from his nostrils, Briar releases his legs, which had been wrapped around the creature for stability, and keeps his firm grip on the blades as they tear through the belly of the beast. Having been inserted just below the torso, each of the sharpened edges continues to cut through organs until they meet the pelvic bone, where hardened tissue forces them to make an exit. Now, being freed from his efforts, Briar quickly rushes upwards, having already begun to take in water. Gasping sharply as he breaks through, his lungs start to burn. The air only makes his condition worsen, until most of what he has consumed is forced out through coughing and wheezing.

"Briar! Briar!" Having heard the sound of him resurfacing, Cronn shifts a freshly lit torch over the water, peering through the fog as best he can but to no avail.

"Briar!" Belial calls out, mimicking Cronn's panicked state as best he can. "Where are you?"

"I- *cough* I'm here! I'm coming!" Not wanting to speak as loudly as the others, just in case another crocodile is lingering nearby, he keeps the tone of his voice down by whispering harshly towards them.

"Come to us, we've found land! Swim, quickly!"

Hearing the treading, Cronn moves slightly closer to the shore, but not so close that something can reach out for him. As he does so, Belial moves into Cronn's blind spot, where he slowly raises a hand over his head, reaching for the handle of his cleaver. With Briar's treading coming nearer, he buckles a pinky around it first, then the ring finger, middle finger, index, and finally, the thumb.

"Just follow the light of my torch!" Cronn says, waving the flame high in the air.

"Keep a lookout for anything that might be behind me, and speak more quietly!"

With his knuckles turning white, Belial slips the jagged teeth of his cleaver out of the first brace that saddles it to his back. Then, proceeds to undo the clip, which holds the notched handle in place. Water laps against the shore as Briar closes the distance between himself and certain safety. Whilst Belial grips his positioned cleaver with both hands, aiming it at the back of Cronn's head.

"You're almost there!" Cronn states, now hearing the sound of Briar's feet walking along the shallow end. "Keep moving!"

Realizing his opportunity is coming to a close, Belial sneers at the idea of Briar watching Cronn die at the hands of someone the both of them have trusted for so long. This alone, he thinks, will be enough to destroy any morale Briar has left.

"Look out!" Spotting another set of eyes coming up on Briar, Cronn shouts once more. "Duck!"

Bolting out of the way, Briar finds himself several inches underwater, just as the burst of another massive crocodile emerging from the water becomes audible. The water sloshes aggressively against Briar's body as Cronn becomes the next in line to be struck. With widened eyes, he leaps aside, diving into a row of bushes. With the momentum it had leaped with, the blood-hunting beast now targets Belial, who, of them all, expected such an attack the least. A meaty snap, followed by the creature's weight hitting the ground, and its claws skittering against muddy soil is all that either Cronn or Briar can hear of the encounter. As it grunts and growls, the cracking of bones tells them of the outcome, but it is not enough to allow such a thing to continue feasting on one of their own. Rushing in with their own weapons drawn, they find the scene lain out before them.

Twitching, scaly legs with dagger-like claws lay sprawled out across the beach. Between the six of them, with four at the rear and two at the front, lays the monster's body, which continues to move as though it is breathing through tremendous pain. Nearing the front, they find Belial, whose cleaver had been planted between the eyes. Seeing this, they breathe a sigh of relief, but Cronn watches Belial intently, out of suspicion. The anger in his eyes as he runs the cleaver against its skull, not wanting to break away from what was clearly an obstruction, tells of a far more harrowing tale.

"Belial, I think it's dead."

Belial ignores Cronn's words and continues to saw away at the beast's brains with gritted teeth and shaky elbows.

"Belial, let off. We have to be ready for another, should it show up before we get out of here."

"Fine." He bluntly replies. Pressing the tips further into the softer flesh, he rips the cleaver free. As he does so, the three of them see that the upper jaw's entirety has been cut in half. All the way up to where his original cut had been made. "Let's go then."

As they prepare to step away, the creature pulls itself up on its front legs. A cry of great pain and laborious distress echoes over the water before being cut short by a curious blockage in its esophagus. The men watch as a lump forms in its throat, gradually moving towards the mouth itself. Once it passes into the base of the jaw, the crocodile arches its head forward, where its bottom row of teeth grind against sands and soil. In a few motions, much like gagging, the obstruction is completely freed. A thump is heard as it hits the ground; A mass of pinkish-red meat. It churns about as the creature collapses once more. At its core, as Cronn moves nearer with his torch outstretched, is an encasing net of vessels, and what resides inside begins to turn frantic.

"Careful, Cronn." Briar puts up a hand to follow his recommendation, as even he is unsure of what such creatures are capable of.

As the thing begins to roll around, Cronn pulls his ax up, making it parallel with the ground. Grunts and whines of a higher pitch than the crocodile come from the thing, which- only moments after making such sounds- bursts open. Swift and confused, an infant of the beast emerges. Spiraling left and right without moving anywhere else, it takes in its surroundings. Upon seeing the corpse of its mother, it sniffs and nuzzles her for a moment, then begins hissing. In the blink of an eye, it turns to face Cronn, and with its mouth agape, it charges. Only a singular high-pitched squall could escape its lungs before Cronn's ax pinned its severed body to the ground. The atmosphere begins to change abruptly. As if more had been idly waiting in the water, trees, brush, and woods that surround them the entire time.

"They heard it cry." Briar looks in each direction he hears them stirring, counting as he goes. Once he reaches ten, their escape begins to seem impossible. "Run! RUN!"

Darting through the woods with only Cronn's light to guide them, the men do their best to not trip over foliage or fall into dips in the Earth. Yet, no matter how lucky they get with avoiding such things, the distance between themselves and the enraged swarm only seems to lessen. In a desperate act to save himself and the others, Briar pulls several of the spiky rounds for his crossbow out of their pouch and begins puncturing them one by one. With each that he punctures, he pours out the contents, attempting to keep a steady line going, and throws the casing away. Once he's done enough that he feels confident in the effort, he reaches out and snatches up Cronn's torch.

"What are you doing?" Cronn bellows, lacking any understanding of why Briar would want to navigate such terrain entirely in the dark.

Focusing on the task at hand, Briar stops and plants himself firmly in place, turning back towards the oncoming threat. Assuring himself that he still has some time left, he pulls out a small urn and smashes it only a few feet ahead of himself. Then, drops the torch. A trail of hellishly hot flames rips through the woods, back towards the lake. The hissing and yips of crocodiles tell him that his plan had worked, but wouldn't benefit them for long. As they turn tail and sprint away from blinding bursts of light, the flames begin to grow on either side of the trail. With Cronn and Belial awaiting his return, they witness the night turn from abysmal darkness to a summer sunrise in seconds. The only obstruction being Briar's shadow against the light.

"Keep moving. These flames won't be going anywhere for some time."