Strike and RISE
They're not zombies, but they are DEAD. They are not wearwolves, but they will HUNT YOU DOWN. They are not vampires, but they are hear to KILL YOU. The revenge of the cloaked one is to be executed, along with thousands of innocent lives.
All to find one that is guilty.
"CRACK!" a booming clash of thunder startled a small serving boy at the Inn of Lilac. Mugs of ale came crashing to the floor. The man whom he was serving bristled with rage. "CRACK!" another booming clash came without warning, but this time, it was the mans thick, mahogany cane on the small boy of seven's back.
The child vomited a stream of blood and bile, and fell to the floor, twitching, and on the verge of death.
That's when he came.
The door flung open, and there he stood. Black cloak, glistening with drops of rain, billowing in the cold night wind. Standing higher than the tallest man, with a hollowed face ,empty black eyesockets that all though had no eyes, stared into your soul, the cloaked one was anythingt but human.
The cloaked one revealed his staff, which on first glance, one would think was made of a very pale white cedar wood, but under further inspection would realize it was made of carved bones. Human femurs.
Swiflty, the cloaked one glided over to the dying boy in the pool of blood, leaving a chill in the air as he past.
"AAAAHHHH!" the child's scream of agony as the staff made solid contact with his back shattered both windows and ears as his last breath escaped him with a cry of twisted anguish and pain.
The first strike.
The child had blood pouring out of his back, but instead of bleeding red, he begun to bleed black. When the last drop of black blood left the boy, the inn was silent. It didn't stay that way for long.
The body twitched, then stirred, then. to the horror of all spectators, stood. Now the child had empty, dark, hollow eye sockets, instead of the innocent white and blue orbs that used to be there. Papery white skin clung to brittle bones, and on top of the thin frame of a starved skeleton sat a face. A sunken face with, ultimately, the horrific feeling of death.
The first rise.
The child vomited a stream of blood and bile, and fell to the floor, twitching, and on the verge of death.
That's when he came.
The door flung open, and there he stood. Black cloak, glistening with drops of rain, billowing in the cold night wind. Standing higher than the tallest man, with a hollowed face ,empty black eyesockets that all though had no eyes, stared into your soul, the cloaked one was anythingt but human.
The cloaked one revealed his staff, which on first glance, one would think was made of a very pale white cedar wood, but under further inspection would realize it was made of carved bones. Human femurs.
Swiflty, the cloaked one glided over to the dying boy in the pool of blood, leaving a chill in the air as he past.
"AAAAHHHH!" the child's scream of agony as the staff made solid contact with his back shattered both windows and ears as his last breath escaped him with a cry of twisted anguish and pain.
The first strike.
The child had blood pouring out of his back, but instead of bleeding red, he begun to bleed black. When the last drop of black blood left the boy, the inn was silent. It didn't stay that way for long.
The body twitched, then stirred, then. to the horror of all spectators, stood. Now the child had empty, dark, hollow eye sockets, instead of the innocent white and blue orbs that used to be there. Papery white skin clung to brittle bones, and on top of the thin frame of a starved skeleton sat a face. A sunken face with, ultimately, the horrific feeling of death.
The first rise.
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