DARK ANGEL'S REQUIEM, CAHPTER ONE
After making the trek through the abysmal hallways and dungeons, Nathan finally arrived at a stairway pointing up. He had been underground for so long, that this was such a rare and pleasing sight. Nathan found himself staring at it in awe. The passageway was so very dark, lit only by a smattering of candles along the wall, and the darkness made Nathan run through them nervously. Even if the passageway had been better lit, it would not be any easier to see. The halls were filled with a mist that made the cold corridors colder than fingers of ice running along his spine. The mist was thicker than the heaviest fog, making it difficult for Nathan to see. With his sight dimmed, his hearing became his primary sensor, not much help, as every sound could mean death to him; even the rattling of some unseen mouse moving across the ground would send him into a state of cat like readiness.
'Why am I here?' Nathan thought to himself. 'Who has failed to keep up their end of the bargain? Damn him, who ever it was, that wanted this. I can't do this, I am not ready, God help us if I am all that's left!' Nathan knew that now was not the time to be thinking of his inadequacies, but it was so hard not to. 'Why did you bring me with you, Morris! You know I am not ready, I am your apprentice, not a master.' There was no real point in this self-hatred, but Nathan found a smug feeling of calm came with it, that somehow admitting that he could not do something only drew him to see how much he could not do.
Nathan knew that a mind far superior to his own thinking on levels that he could not begin to comprehend designed all these things. Nothing was in this place by accident, the mist, the sounds, the darkness, all put there to break someone's spirits, to make him turn back. Nathan however, had twisted inspiration to succeed.
When he arrived at this place, he came only as apprentice to a master hunter who had once before stopped the threat of the king of darkness, one Vlad Tepe, better known as Count Dracula. Dracula was, of course, a nickname who's meaning was "son of the dragon." However, as the master and his two pupils entered the chambre where the abomination was to be awakened from his centuries long slumber, Morris, the master, was stolen into the hands of evil. He was soon to be used in the ceremony to raise Dracula, leaving only Nathan, along with the other pupil; Hugh, to stop it. Before they had an opportunity to do that, a cavern opened in the floor and they fell into the dungeons that Nathan found himself in now.
They fell for a time that seemed so long to them that they could recall each thought if they attempted to. It made no sense to them why they were not killed in the fall, until they looked up, and saw that the fall that lasted an eternity was only about twenty feet. Feeling shaken, but empowered with their mission, Nathan began speaking to Hugh about how they would make their next move.
Hugh pushed Nathan aside, declaring that, as Morris' son, he would claim the glory. "You were chosen by my father to be his successor, a mistake that a nostalgic fool made. I would have received the training and attention that you received if my Father hadn't fought alongside your parents when Dracula's minions attacked last. You should just be grateful that Dracula was not raised then, your parents were too weak to fight even his weakest generals. Think of what would have become of them if they had fought the dark king himself! Weakness runs through your blood. I am strong! I am the one who will be praised! I am the rightful heir to the hunter's throne!" Hugh spat the words out in loathing. "Now leave me alone, you vile, repugnant scum!" Nathan knew at once that Hugh was not speaking to him, that some unseen and evil force was slowly capturing his soul.
That outburst was nothing like Hugh, they had been laughing together just hours before, before they entered this place. Nathan did not wish to fight Hugh, so he let him go.
'Damn it Hugh!' Nathan thought. 'Why must you be so stubborn? What makes you think that I wanted this? What has gotten to you?' Nathan had so many unanswerable questions that he thought his head would burst trying to give them a sense of order. He was not ready to give up on his friend, or at least what was his friend. He did not know what was happening to Hugh, or how any of this was possible, but he felt he owed it to himself to at least find out.
And so Nathan set out through the darkness, armed with only two ornate daggers and a sword. The sword was not a typical metal weapon, it was centuries old and was only wielded by those whose heart was pure, as a pure heart was linked to it. After so many years of use, the sword became a different weapon for each person, drawing its power from the lifeblood of its user. The hilt, showing master craftsmanship, was beautifully carved. An ivory snake's head adorned the bottom, with rubies for eyes, and the likeness of angels, their wings embracing each other, carved form the strongest oak. The handle was carved so to be an acceptable receiver for God's light. The hilt was not the only masterpiece of the sword, for the blade, lustrous and shining even in darkness, with the symbol: , meaning an end to evil, engraved into the steel.
The sword was Nathan's means of defeating the hoardes of undead minions raised by the witch of suffering, Carmilla, in order to stop him. Carmilla had obviously not underestimated him. There were creatures everywhere, skeletons, were-wolves, anything under the sun that was horrific. Nathan was blazing through the dungeons, sword swinging in the faces of his adversaries, until he came up to a tiny snake-like creature called a bore-worm. Two feet long, eyeless, and with a claw coming out of where the mouth should be. It lunged at him, too close for the sword. Drawing the two daggers from their sheaths, he slashed out to either side, and missed the creature. This was not wholly unfortunate, as the worm landed at his feet, deflected from its original course. Nathan seized this opportunity, drew the daggers above his head, and plunged them into its body, causing the worm to writhe around like wounded animal, making some desperate and feeble attempt to get away from a predator, and then suddenly stop moving. Satisfied that it was dead, Nathan wiped the daggers clean and returned them to their sheaths before trudging on.
Carmilla was the only person capable of stopping Nathan now, and as he stared at the stairway, he knew that she lay in wait at the top, ready to pounce on her prey.
He trudged upwards, and as he got closer he began to hear a moaning. A deep and penetrating sound coming from the top, increasing as he ascended. The noise was so loud now that it almost tempted him to turn and run. 'No,' he thought 'I am an apprentice vampire hunter, chosen by Morris Baldwin who, with my parents, stopped Dracula from being raised years ago. I cannot give up. My parents did not give up'
He rounded the top, running now, sword poised and ready. Carmilla saw him, said "well, you survived my soldiers, I am impressed. But I'm afraid that your pitiful existence must come to an end, sooner or later, and I prefer the former over the latter."
Nathan looked at her in disgust, examining his enemy, as he had been taught to do. "Remember Nathan, if you underestimate your opponent, or over estimate yourself, you have lost the battle before you begin it". This was some of the earliest advice that Morris had given him, and he knew that it would not be easy to underestimate such a powerful thing as Camilla.
She wore a crimson dress, so red that blood would be shamed by its intensity. Her blue eyes were a sharp contrast to her jet-black hair, and her lips stood out against her pale skin, which took on the whiteness that occurs in a person changed by evil forces.
He knew that she was a demi-immortal because of the rewards given to her by evil, and also the speed and reflexes far beyond his own. Despite all this, it was her ability to turn others into full vampires, set to obey only her, and that would destroy any hope of restoring peace to the world. Nathan had no idea how this worked, Carmilla was not a vampire, yet she had this ability. He had heard rumors of it, when someone becomes so entwined with evil, they are able to use it for their own spoils. Taking on the abilities of a vampire while staying human, or even controlling death itself. This was not to say that she could not be killed, an evil force superior to hers, or a force of goodness that was strong enough, could do it.
By the way she was looking at him, Nathan knew she had something planned, and as a twisted smile appeared on her face, a look of horror appeared on his. "Surprise!" she shouted, pointing to a dark doorway. "Have fun with your toy, but don't play too long, I tire of watching children." She laughed.
Nathan stared in fear at what came from the door. It was Hugh, with skin paler than Carmilla's. Nathan knew what had happened, he was now one of them.
"You are over confident, Hugh, you don't even have your sword drawn." Nathan sneered.
"Fool!" Hugh shouted, "those who are truly strong like me, do not need weapons." With that, Hugh lunged toward Nathan so quickly that even Carmilla could not track him. He had Nathan in an arm lock and immobilized him before Nathan even got a chance to place his hands on his sword. Nathan tried desperately to break free, but it was in vain. The vampire once known as Hugh Baldwin claimed its first victim. Nathan Graves, successor to Morris Baldwin, master hunter, had become what he had been trained to hate. Nathan's sword fell to the ground, and it became Carmilla's newest trophy. Vlad Tepe, Dracula was soon to be raised, and no one on Earth could stop it.
After making the trek through the abysmal hallways and dungeons, Nathan finally arrived at a stairway pointing up. He had been underground for so long, that this was such a rare and pleasing sight. Nathan found himself staring at it in awe. The passageway was so very dark, lit only by a smattering of candles along the wall, and the darkness made Nathan run through them nervously. Even if the passageway had been better lit, it would not be any easier to see. The halls were filled with a mist that made the cold corridors colder than fingers of ice running along his spine. The mist was thicker than the heaviest fog, making it difficult for Nathan to see. With his sight dimmed, his hearing became his primary sensor, not much help, as every sound could mean death to him; even the rattling of some unseen mouse moving across the ground would send him into a state of cat like readiness.
'Why am I here?' Nathan thought to himself. 'Who has failed to keep up their end of the bargain? Damn him, who ever it was, that wanted this. I can't do this, I am not ready, God help us if I am all that's left!' Nathan knew that now was not the time to be thinking of his inadequacies, but it was so hard not to. 'Why did you bring me with you, Morris! You know I am not ready, I am your apprentice, not a master.' There was no real point in this self-hatred, but Nathan found a smug feeling of calm came with it, that somehow admitting that he could not do something only drew him to see how much he could not do.
Nathan knew that a mind far superior to his own thinking on levels that he could not begin to comprehend designed all these things. Nothing was in this place by accident, the mist, the sounds, the darkness, all put there to break someone's spirits, to make him turn back. Nathan however, had twisted inspiration to succeed.
When he arrived at this place, he came only as apprentice to a master hunter who had once before stopped the threat of the king of darkness, one Vlad Tepe, better known as Count Dracula. Dracula was, of course, a nickname who's meaning was "son of the dragon." However, as the master and his two pupils entered the chambre where the abomination was to be awakened from his centuries long slumber, Morris, the master, was stolen into the hands of evil. He was soon to be used in the ceremony to raise Dracula, leaving only Nathan, along with the other pupil; Hugh, to stop it. Before they had an opportunity to do that, a cavern opened in the floor and they fell into the dungeons that Nathan found himself in now.
They fell for a time that seemed so long to them that they could recall each thought if they attempted to. It made no sense to them why they were not killed in the fall, until they looked up, and saw that the fall that lasted an eternity was only about twenty feet. Feeling shaken, but empowered with their mission, Nathan began speaking to Hugh about how they would make their next move.
Hugh pushed Nathan aside, declaring that, as Morris' son, he would claim the glory. "You were chosen by my father to be his successor, a mistake that a nostalgic fool made. I would have received the training and attention that you received if my Father hadn't fought alongside your parents when Dracula's minions attacked last. You should just be grateful that Dracula was not raised then, your parents were too weak to fight even his weakest generals. Think of what would have become of them if they had fought the dark king himself! Weakness runs through your blood. I am strong! I am the one who will be praised! I am the rightful heir to the hunter's throne!" Hugh spat the words out in loathing. "Now leave me alone, you vile, repugnant scum!" Nathan knew at once that Hugh was not speaking to him, that some unseen and evil force was slowly capturing his soul.
That outburst was nothing like Hugh, they had been laughing together just hours before, before they entered this place. Nathan did not wish to fight Hugh, so he let him go.
'Damn it Hugh!' Nathan thought. 'Why must you be so stubborn? What makes you think that I wanted this? What has gotten to you?' Nathan had so many unanswerable questions that he thought his head would burst trying to give them a sense of order. He was not ready to give up on his friend, or at least what was his friend. He did not know what was happening to Hugh, or how any of this was possible, but he felt he owed it to himself to at least find out.
And so Nathan set out through the darkness, armed with only two ornate daggers and a sword. The sword was not a typical metal weapon, it was centuries old and was only wielded by those whose heart was pure, as a pure heart was linked to it. After so many years of use, the sword became a different weapon for each person, drawing its power from the lifeblood of its user. The hilt, showing master craftsmanship, was beautifully carved. An ivory snake's head adorned the bottom, with rubies for eyes, and the likeness of angels, their wings embracing each other, carved form the strongest oak. The handle was carved so to be an acceptable receiver for God's light. The hilt was not the only masterpiece of the sword, for the blade, lustrous and shining even in darkness, with the symbol: , meaning an end to evil, engraved into the steel.
The sword was Nathan's means of defeating the hoardes of undead minions raised by the witch of suffering, Carmilla, in order to stop him. Carmilla had obviously not underestimated him. There were creatures everywhere, skeletons, were-wolves, anything under the sun that was horrific. Nathan was blazing through the dungeons, sword swinging in the faces of his adversaries, until he came up to a tiny snake-like creature called a bore-worm. Two feet long, eyeless, and with a claw coming out of where the mouth should be. It lunged at him, too close for the sword. Drawing the two daggers from their sheaths, he slashed out to either side, and missed the creature. This was not wholly unfortunate, as the worm landed at his feet, deflected from its original course. Nathan seized this opportunity, drew the daggers above his head, and plunged them into its body, causing the worm to writhe around like wounded animal, making some desperate and feeble attempt to get away from a predator, and then suddenly stop moving. Satisfied that it was dead, Nathan wiped the daggers clean and returned them to their sheaths before trudging on.
Carmilla was the only person capable of stopping Nathan now, and as he stared at the stairway, he knew that she lay in wait at the top, ready to pounce on her prey.
He trudged upwards, and as he got closer he began to hear a moaning. A deep and penetrating sound coming from the top, increasing as he ascended. The noise was so loud now that it almost tempted him to turn and run. 'No,' he thought 'I am an apprentice vampire hunter, chosen by Morris Baldwin who, with my parents, stopped Dracula from being raised years ago. I cannot give up. My parents did not give up'
He rounded the top, running now, sword poised and ready. Carmilla saw him, said "well, you survived my soldiers, I am impressed. But I'm afraid that your pitiful existence must come to an end, sooner or later, and I prefer the former over the latter."
Nathan looked at her in disgust, examining his enemy, as he had been taught to do. "Remember Nathan, if you underestimate your opponent, or over estimate yourself, you have lost the battle before you begin it". This was some of the earliest advice that Morris had given him, and he knew that it would not be easy to underestimate such a powerful thing as Camilla.
She wore a crimson dress, so red that blood would be shamed by its intensity. Her blue eyes were a sharp contrast to her jet-black hair, and her lips stood out against her pale skin, which took on the whiteness that occurs in a person changed by evil forces.
He knew that she was a demi-immortal because of the rewards given to her by evil, and also the speed and reflexes far beyond his own. Despite all this, it was her ability to turn others into full vampires, set to obey only her, and that would destroy any hope of restoring peace to the world. Nathan had no idea how this worked, Carmilla was not a vampire, yet she had this ability. He had heard rumors of it, when someone becomes so entwined with evil, they are able to use it for their own spoils. Taking on the abilities of a vampire while staying human, or even controlling death itself. This was not to say that she could not be killed, an evil force superior to hers, or a force of goodness that was strong enough, could do it.
By the way she was looking at him, Nathan knew she had something planned, and as a twisted smile appeared on her face, a look of horror appeared on his. "Surprise!" she shouted, pointing to a dark doorway. "Have fun with your toy, but don't play too long, I tire of watching children." She laughed.
Nathan stared in fear at what came from the door. It was Hugh, with skin paler than Carmilla's. Nathan knew what had happened, he was now one of them.
"You are over confident, Hugh, you don't even have your sword drawn." Nathan sneered.
"Fool!" Hugh shouted, "those who are truly strong like me, do not need weapons." With that, Hugh lunged toward Nathan so quickly that even Carmilla could not track him. He had Nathan in an arm lock and immobilized him before Nathan even got a chance to place his hands on his sword. Nathan tried desperately to break free, but it was in vain. The vampire once known as Hugh Baldwin claimed its first victim. Nathan Graves, successor to Morris Baldwin, master hunter, had become what he had been trained to hate. Nathan's sword fell to the ground, and it became Carmilla's newest trophy. Vlad Tepe, Dracula was soon to be raised, and no one on Earth could stop it.