*No cats were harmed in the making of this post. (They were long dead by the time I got around to writing this thing.)*
Now… an encore to the last post. This was the other collaborative story my friends and I wrote that night in the car.
This time around, we decided to go Xtreme Edition: No Rules. Although I remember getting quite feisty with my scribe-companions when the plot wandered too much. You might catch where I went all Chuck Norris on the Plot Realignment in the story.
Vampire Hunted – By Rogue Element Publications
Fe’lier rested her palm on the cold iron gate of the graveyard and realized the chirping of insects had faded. In her years of experience as a vampire hunter, she found that this tended to be a very bad thing. The mists swirled and eddied about her, licking at her unsheathed rapier.
Her nerves were calmed when she felt the reassuring hand on her shoulder of Barek, her longtime friend and companion.
“We’re ready for this, El. All the signs lead to this place. I for one am ready for the closure of this terrible ordeal.”
Barek was a tall, broad shouldered man, bald headed and bearded. He held a baton of polished oak in each hand.
Fe’lier nodded her head against the gate. The cool metal helped clear her mind. With a heavy shove she shouldered the iron gate open. Bodily. It was time to rid herself of forced servitude.
She stepped into the mists, Barek following her. He touched her shoulder and nodded for her to get behind him. He was the tank after all.
The eerie quiet hung like a blanket over this place of the dead. Through the hazy mist, they could just barely see over the top of the hill the mausoleum where their quarry would most likely reside. Fe’lier stepped through the fog, a shadow of her past but a silhouette of her future.
Suddenly, the ground erupted all around them. Hands, decayed with the weight of years, burst from the soil of the graves. They reached out for them, desperate in their undeath to grasp the lives of the two adventurers. The first head to emerge exploded in a scattering of bone chips and moss as an oaken club collided with its face. Fe’lier followed up his brutal attack by executing a perfectly timed double front kick to the rib cage of a second assailant.
Quickly realizing the uselessness of her rapier, she sheathed it. And in a flowing motion of her cape, she drew a ruby-tipped wand. Its Crimson Magic stood out in great contrast to the clime. Calling upon the gods of anti-clime-atic wands, she waved it in front of her to create a great sparkling shield. Any bone that touched it would be obliterated into a thousand little chips before it could touch her.
Barek took up a flanking position so as to not get de-boned himself. In a flurry of explosive motion, he charged forward into the horde of undead, leaving behind him a wake of broken skeletons. Every movement brought a swift end to an animated monstrosity as he fought to clear an area around Fe’lier.
Slowly, they carved a path through the mass of cackling skeletons towards the mausoleum. Fe’lier could feel her wand heat up as the astral shield took on the field of bone. Finally, she was forced to sheath it again when it became burning to the touch.
They were now at the threshold of the mausoleum. There was no turning back. Barek slammed his shoulder into the iron-bound door with all of his might but bounced off with a mighty grunt. He snarled, set his feet and tried again to no greater effect. Sensing this approach was futile, he closed his eyes and looked down. Within a few seconds, white swirling tattoos became visible all over his body. Opening his eyes to reveal two shining pale orbs, he slammed his fist into the door and it exploded into iron shards and wooden splinters.
“I see the School was well worth your time,” Fe’lier said. “I hope they taught you a thing or two about vampires. I’m going to need your help against this foe.”
Barek’s complexion returned to its normal tone. He proceeded down the solitary stone staircase, steepening into the subterranean sanctuary. As the glow in his eyes faded completely, he smiled sheepishly and said “it’s still very difficult to control but a useful skill nonetheless. I will do my best to be of use to you in the coming battle.”
“A battle? Blah!” The voice startled the pair and they froze in place. It seemed to come from all around them. “A battle suggests that one side stands a chance of winning. No. This will be a massacre. Blah!”
They turned around just to be sure nothing was behind them. When they turned back, a genie was blocking their way.
“What battle can be fought by two opposing sides and won by both?” The genie asked of them.
“A civil war?” Barek asked treble-ously.
“That is correct, sir! Allow me to make like a tree and head out of here so you can get massacred by my master.” The genie did indeed make like a tree and dissipated into the musty atmosphere.
“That was awkward,” Fe’lier quipped.
They continued down the passage and presently they entered into a massive chamber. Load-bearing columns flanked the smooth stone walkway that was lined with skull-shaped candles. Several of the candles winked at them as they walked. One tried to flirt with Fe’lier until Barek smashed its waxy visage with an offended fist.
Fe’lier tore a sconce from a crumbling stone wall and lit it afire for the opposite side of the chamber was masked in darkness. Fe’lier seemed about to say something when Barek raised up a hand and dropped to a low crouch. His instincts proving true, dark shapes that seemed to consume the light from her newly lit torch swarmed from pillars upon the two heroes.
“Darklings! Barek, get behind me! This foe is beyond you.” Fe’lier drew her ruby-topped wand again and prepared to fight off the new assailants.
Fe’lier drew a handful of powder from within a pouch and tossed it into the air and then thrust her wand forward, muttering some foreign language. A bright burst of light emitted from it, causing the dust to burn brightly in its almost weightless descent to floor.
“There is much that is new about me, my Heart,” said Barek as he stepped in front of her. He began to glow anew as the first darkling entered his range and attacked with a shadowy clawed hand. With a shout defiance, Barek locked his grip on the wrist of his opponent with his left hand. And with his right, he grabbed its neck. The darkling began to emit a high-pitched scream as its points of contact began to smoke and dissipate under his vice-like grip.
“The lesson of this story, class,” the teacher told us as we sat in our chairs with bated breaths, “is that bone-chips are worth a lot of plat if you collect a lot of them.”
We all wanted to know what the ending was, but satisfied ourselves with knowing that our story ended with a lame and confusing twist.
The rushed ending was either a result of us arriving at the house at the end of the drive or space aliens abducting us and wiping our memories. I don’t remember.
In any case, I apologize for the…ahem… quality of these stories. I know they probably blinded some of you with their awesomeness. I’ll be sure to make a braille version of my blog sometime for those of you so afflicted.
Until then…I present to you The Lord of the Rings: In Facebook Chat form:
*Not made by me: I would’ve included a random Ringwraith scream somewhere in there.*