Nightmares of Siegfried
The stench of death was heavy in the air. Even in the open courtyard, where the smell of blood could dissipate, it was nearly overpowering. The castle, mere hours ago full of life and joy was now a massive tomb. The residents were strewn all over the castle grounds. Where once laughter reigned, now only the slow rhythmic dripping of blood and the cold wind remained. Deep inside the keep of the massive stone fortress, the king, a kind man that was a capable leader and only did what was best for his subjects, sat upon his throne with a look of horror and maddening fury frozen upon his cold, lifeless face.
The moon, almost full, shed its pail glow through a window high up on the throne room wall revealing the scene of the last, futile, attempt to fend off the monster that had assaulted the castle. The brave men, both warriors and simple surfs, lay on the floor. When a face could be recognized, the features were always warped into expressions of pain and horror. Many of them were ripped asunder by a massive claw, while others were cut down by even larger blade. The knights among the corpses always had giant gaping slash marks in their armor revealing the deep trenches left behind in their body. Occasionally, the face of the victims would be smashed in, leaving a bloody mask in its place. Of all the corpses, only the king's body was not left disfigured. The only mark upon his body was a large deep bruise on his neck as if choked by something inhuman.
In the center of all of the carnage, a single, tall man stood. He stood there with a vacant expression upon his face. On the floor in front of him, laid a helmet with large, metal, protrusions that resembled long, angular ears. To his right, a massive sword was imbedded into the stone floor of the keep. While the blade of the weapon looked metal, the rest seemed organic, giant eyes were on the sides of the blade, both darting around as if looking for something but unable to find it. The man was wearing heavy armor of the same design as the helmet, but was missing the right arm leaving his muscular arm bare.
With his head bowed it was difficult to tell, but the man was horrified at the gruesome scene, his eyes haunted. Did I do this? Why? He thought I'm Siegfried, the hero of the people! Then thoughts from some other part of his mind surfaced. You are a fool! You are Nightmare, wielder of Souledge, the Azure Warrior! The people tremble at the mere mention of your name! With these words came memories, memories of scenes much like the one he stood in now; memories of screams of pain and horror; memories of uncontrollable bloodlust; memories…never ending pain, never ending darkness.
It was too much. He screamed out to the night. The people residing in the village near the castle heard his scream. They heard it as it died off. All knew that the castle had become slaughter house, and could only think it was voice of the last man inside. In a way they were right but not in the way they thought.
Siegfried crumpled to the ground, unable to except that he had slaughtered millions over countless years. That everything he had done was now lost in legend, in the legend of Nightmare, forever to be tainted by that cursed name. Could he redeem himself? Would it be possible to clear his name? Yes, it was possible…but could he actually manage it? "Souledge!" growled Siegfried, "This night will be your last! You will have no more feasts upon souls of the innocent!" But as the warrior reached for the weapon, the previously wondering eye locked with his, power, souls, BLOOD! You can give me them! Come forth Nightmare! The powerful, malignant, mental voice of the satanic blade called upon its servant.
As these words entered Siegfried's mind, his bare arm stopped. New memories came forth, ones of Nightmare, the incredible power wielded by that being, his nearly unstoppable wrath in battle, capable of obliterating almost all opposition. With these memories came ones of others, many brave warriors ether seeking to destroy his cursed blade or to wield it themselves. Who are these people? The image of a petite girl flowed through his head, ...Talom…, then a man of European heritage, just like his, ...Raphael…, following that was an old ghastly looking sailor, probably a captain, …Cervantes…, a giant creature that was never human that wielded a massive ax and radiated desire for destruction, ...Astoroth…, more and more faces and names kept flowing through Siegfried's mind.
Are these also people I killed? No…but who are they then? Suddenly his bare arm that had been reaching for the weapon pulsed and began to shudder. Siegfried began to panic, for a finer detail of Nightmare had come to mind. One of the most notable and unique features of Nightmare was his right arm. The limb was massive, as thick as a small tree and covered in a hard carapace. His fingers were fused into two large claw like digits and his thumb had taken a similar shape. He forced himself to look at his arm.
As he looked at it, it didn't change. It just shook and was sweating profusely. Then, without warning, his arm was replaced by the arm of Nightmare. "No!" Screamed the horrified man, he could feel the dark part of his mind starting to spread. As it did Nightmare's arm reached for Souledge and grasped the handle. With this final, decisive action Siegfried's mind was once again slumbering
Nightmare gripped soul edge, shaking his head. He hated that fool, Siegfried made him sick. Am I really that pathetic excuse of a protector? Just thinking about that scum makes me want to throw up. He reached down for his helmet picked it up and looked at his reflection in the azure metal. Siegfried looked back but his face was contorted in a hideous expression and his eyes faintly gleaming a dark red with the power of Souledge. After the brief look at himself, Nightmare put his helmet on, hefted Souledge and made his way through the carnage he had created.
Auther's notes
I did this for school and I personaly think of it as the greatest thing I have ever writen...I'm just wondering what other people think of it.