AN:

Hello my dear readers... this was a story I did for the great risknight last year. This is by far the longest and craziest story I have ever wrote and am very proud of. It is set in a world I created and has all kinds of characters of all species. I really hope you enjoy it as much as me and Chrissy did... I will post them by chapter since it's about 112 pages without spaces. ^_^

Chapter 1

Pasadenia is a world of fear thrown into the chaos of darkness. Man could not trust another man, and no one ever knew if one person was one of the witch's slaves or just a product of their own devices. Yet, still in this menagerie of untruth and terror… love still finds a way, it still flourishes in the hearts of those downtrodden by their emotions. In this world so fully tainted, a hero would find a way to rise above the tyranny to save those screaming for help. This man, who fears nothing but the microorganisms he can't see, is a man who lost everything but remembers nothing, a man who believes he is above such primitive substances called 'emotions'. All he knew was his name and that he was truly alone in this world… because of a creature so vile in its existence that only one word could describe them… Witch.

This man's name was Sir Sheldor of Galstire… a witch hunter. Little he did know about his past was that he had to have had a family for his 'Memaw' who had left him his jacket that was impregnable to magic attacks. He found a box with it inside, beside him when he woke… 'From Memaw' inked upon a sliver of paper on top of the box. He also knew that the witch Lordornia Lidia Fowler, the Blood Witch of Pasadenia, and her sister Leslitico Winklivre, the Dragon Child, were the ones who killed his family only from the tales from the villagers. He still has yet to figure out why his memory was taken or as to what it is he truly lost, but he still keeps pressing on.

He killed the Dragon Child and trapped Lordornia, with an arrow branded with the seal of the demon: Bifrons, to a tree where the arrow pierced through the witch and dug into the bark. Since then, her daughter, Lady Amelia Farconia Fowler, has built a fortress around said tree and has become the newest shadow upon the land. Yet, the Lady's power is far darker than her mother's. It can be seen by way of her fortress, it is never in the same place twice. That takes a strong, unbound force to move an entire strip of land with no trace or ability to track it. It worried Sheldor… the darker the magic… the more blood would need to be shed.

Lady Fowler was far from a Lady. She sent creatures from the grave to find the purest of hearts to fill her hollowed chest. An action started by the Lady's mother, but it seemed that she had stopped seeking a heart and just started to send her monsters into the villages just to slaughter the people. Sheldor has managed to save as many as he can, but still… the remains of the attacks stay like scars on the land. Burnt houses and corpses sprawled throughout Pasadenia like a warning flag. What could he do? He had no way of calculating the witch's next move or her current location. He hated feeling so inept.

His two companions have been the only survivors of their own, personal, ordeals with the witches; Onar and Howardrick Wolowix, the Nerkanine and the cursed trinket of a once-man. Sheldor had to admit that though their constant companionship threw off his daily routine of the hunt, he was glad to finally have someone/something to talk to. He didn't know what this newest witch was after and still couldn't quite find the pattern to her madden pace. They were random attacks on random farms, but it was always at night when the moon did not shine. Sheldor hated not knowing something; he had to find a logical solution to destroy this monster before she could claim anymore lives.

Sir Sheldor of Galstire moved amongst the woods gathering the correct length and dryness of each twig he procured from the ground. He was a man who strived for perfection in all that he did, even if the world was drowning in chaos. As he collected quite a bundle, the annoying voice of the trinket around his wrist groaned, only he could hear it, "Good Lord man, just pick some sticks and get this over with- You're driving me CRAZY. And that's saying a lot because I'm a damn BRACELET!"

Sheldor rolled his eyes as he picked up one more perfect twig and spoke prim and proper to no one in particular other than the wrist watch, "There is nothing wrong with wanting perfection, my dear Wolowatch."

The wrist watch twitched and the voice filled his head again, "That's Wolowix, Shelly Welly! And your type of perfection is in the same line as (cuckoo, cuckoo)." The wrist watch made a perfect mimic of a cuckoo clocks chime and made Sheldor scowl down at his own wrist, "You know… I can arrange for you to be a part of this upcoming fire, you ungrateful little trinket!" Wolowix growled inside the witch hunter's head as Sheldor raised a brow at his wrist. The voice went silent and Sheldor grinned in victory as he cradled the bundle of sticks in his arms and made his way back to the campfire.

Sheldor placed exactly twelve sticks lined up in an asterisk shaped inside the circle of 23 rocks in a circle, he hummed an incantation that was a part of his shady memory and a fire erupted from the center of the sticks. As the fire seemed to become a perfect fit within the 23 rocks, a sound of something moving within the woods got Sheldor on his feet and ready to fire his small, bone-made arbalest. He moved his aim to the black blob that bounded out of the woods towards the fire. He lowered his guard at the black nerk that arrived with tonight's meal safely draped in his wolf-like jaws. Onar, as he has told Sheldor was his name, was a species known as Nerkanines. They were gargantuan wolves that normally stood 25 feet tall and were ravenous hunters. Over the years, humans have learned to tame them and have used them for many tasks. This particular 'Nerk' was merely 14 feet tall and had horrible vision. Could barely see the dirt in front of his nose, but had one hell of a nose. As of right now, the nerk stood with a 10 foot hippocamp in his jaws. Sheldon hated getting the smell of fish on his blade, but he was hungry and a fresh hippocamp was very hard to come by.

Onar dropped the half horse, half fish on the ground. He wagged his tail and used his telepathy to speak to the witch hunter, "I made sure this one never mated, only ate seaweed that was free of any tadpoles, and never wallowed in any kind of muck at the bottom of the lake." Sheldor blinked a few times then stared down at the hippocamp now flopped in the dirt and the nerk whimpered in defeat.

Sheldor managed to de-sand the hippocamp and cut the horse from the fish part. Onar got the horse side all to himself as he cooked the other side delicately over the magically induced fire. Magic… it was a piece of him that he couldn't quite put together with the rest of his life. He tried his best to remember his past, but the earliest memory he could remember was waking up beside a burnt down farm house and clutching a box that simply said, 'From Memaw', on it. It was his jacket (only magic proof at this moment). He took his Stetson hat, and his old hunting knife and he went into the world he didn't recognize.

The first witch, that Sheldor slain was Leslitico Winklivre, the Dragon Child. She had taken the liking of male flesh and devoured Sheldor's mentor. He shoved his magically created spear right into her throat then opened up her belly trying to save the only father he ever knew. It was far too late to save him and Sheldor took his anger out on the Dragon witch. He took the corpse and de-fleshed her and took the bones to a weapon maker by the name of Steward the Third. He took the dragon's bones and forged a weapon known as an arbalest or crossbow. He even bled the creature out and save her blood in a vial. Dragon's blood was a powerful and nearly impossible element in the world, and Winklivre was one of the last dragons in Pasadenia. Steward offered to stain his Memaw's jacket with the blood to make the jacket impenetrable to any kind of physical attack. That would make the jacket both magically and physically invincible. Sheldor agreed. Steward, Sheldor learned, knew his mentor and offered to enchant the arbalest with a rare, Vulcarian spell that he learned from a scroll, which was said to be of a legendary spell from far beyond the stars. This spell would ensure that an object propelled from it would always hit what the shooter was aiming for no matter what direction the arrow is shot in. It was a spell that swore that the bearer of the bow would thrive and live long just as long as the bearer's needs never outweigh the many. It was a perfect spell and Sheldor gave Steward all the gold he possessed for it.

Lordornia had killed so many… enslaved countless humans… devoured so many souls that Sheldor felt that his fight was going to be for naught. The world had fallen into a darkened bowl of disorder and not much was going to rectify that. It came to the point where man didn't trust man and war, poverty, inhumane treatment of one another, all broke out without the witch even being a part of it. He had to save women from being raped; men from being ganged up on and beaten to death, children being burned at the stake. It was becoming far too much for him to participate in. He hadn't solved the problem… he just added more variables to the equation.

He looked down at this wrist as he waited for the hippocamp to be cooked to the correct degree and he thought back to how he met Wolowix and Onar. Two lives utterly destroyed because of Lordornia, the Blood Witch of Pasadenia.

Howardrick Wolowix was an Innovagygr. Innovagygrs are wizards of invention or 'Conjurors' if you will. He was a man that could fix anything… make anything…better anything, but his one true happiness was his wife, Bernaquette. She was one of the Dísir spirits that gave up her spiritual form to fall in love… and fall they did. Wolowix believed he would never get out of the bed after their wedding and he would never ever complain otherwise. It wasn't until he started hearing about the witch attacking villages close to theirs and ripping the hearts out of innocent women did he start to feel a panic he'd never felt. He wanted his wife safe from this insanity so began to build a large, grandfather clock and inside he conjured a protection spell. As he finished the spell, he kissed his wife and told her that he loved her more than anything before throwing her into the clock. The witch, with ogres plowing through his door, walked in to find the man leaning against the grandfather clock's door. He saw the emotionless, lifeless drone of the witch's daughter (said to have no heart) and swallowed. He made a move to run, but an unknown force had gripped him like a strong soldier. He looked to see the dead blue eyes of the witch's daughter glaring at him and glowing like blue flames. The witch laughed hysterically wicked as she walked to the Innovagygr.

"Did you honestly think that your pathetic spell could hide her from me? Tisk Tisk." She waved her hand at the grandfather clock and Bernaquette was ripped from the wood. The witch laughed again as she rose her hand in the air and Bernaquette rose like a puppet on a string.

Wolowix screamed for her to spare his wife. His cries fell on unsympathetic ears. The witch made him watch as she ripped his wife's heart from her chest. Wolowix was released from his restrained hex just as his wife's body collapsed to the floor. His eyes flooded with tears as he stared at his wife's lifeless body and his ears filled with the witch's laughter. His fear of dying was soon replaced with his ferocious anger and need of revenge as he lunged at the witch with his bare hands, aiming for her neck. The lifeless drone that was the witch's daughter flung her arm in the air, causing Wolowix's to black out, falling to the floor as a numbed, strange contraption known as a wrist watch in the future. He was only a trinket, but he was given the curse of memory.

Sheldor was shown this man's memory only one time… the day he placed the 'wrist watch' upon his wrist, and that was enough for him to remember it for all eternity. That was HIS curse… the curse of Eidittik of the north. The Eidittik was a berry that grew only one the Vivemory Trees near the Eerie Lake up in the northern boundaries of Pasadenia. Sheldor ate one and hasn't forgotten a thing since… it was more of pain than a blessing, but it had its advantages.

This brought him to look over at the nerk gnawing on his horse-sided hippocamp. He had found that nerk lying outside a burned building, unconscious. For what it was worth, Sheldor could tell he had put up a fight from the large gash on top of his head. The only reason he hadn't put an arrow in his head was because of the old, woven bracelet around his left paw that had 'ONAR' spelled with each individual letter on a single bead on it. It was obviously made by a child, so this creature was not to blame for the attack. As Sheldor walked into the burnt building, Wolowix had brought the coat of arms crest on the wall to his attention. These people were responsible for paying one tenth of their crop earnings to the witch… so why did she attack them so violently? Sheldor, while deep in thought, then tripped over a body of a little girl. He turned to look at the body and closed his eyes tight at the horrific sight. There was a huge hole in the girl's chest with no heart inside, and the child's face frozen in fear, both her eyes and mouth wide, causing him to nearly vomit upon her.

He closed his eyes and dipped down to force the eyes shut, but was stopped by the sound of a very deep growling. His eyes opened to the black nerk snarling his shiny, sharp, white teeth towards him and before he could explain himself, the nerk lunged teeth first. Sheldor's newly Dragon Blood drenched trench coat was about to be tested. The nerk's teeth just slid off like a drop of water down a leaf and Sheldor flung the nerk into one of the decaying walls.

Sheldor took the opportunity to take out the new bow. He aimed it where the nerk had landed, and the prods popped from the ivory side and an arrow magically cocked itself in, ready to fire. The nerk stepped from the ashen wall and snarled again. With his finger lethally tight on the trigger, he waited for the beast to take one more step, but instead, he heard a voice sing out from the wolven creature, "She's dead… you already killed my human… why can't you just leave her in peace."

Sheldor lowered his weapon and gave the beast a sympathetic look, "I did not kill your human. She was dead long before I got here… I was following the aura of the witch, Lordornia. Heard of her? Well, she's the one who killed your girl. She ripped your girl's heart right out of her chest in order to give her own daughter life. I… I'm sorry, friend. I was too late to save her."

Sheldor watched the nerk approach the girl's body and his emotions fluctuated as he watched as the cold nose of the nerk pushed against the child's equally cold cheek and it just made the child's head turn to the side. Sheldor could hear his voice again as he spoke with sadness, "Her name was Alex… she saw me as a friend instead of an omega runt… a nerkanine on the bottom of the hierarchy. She… she believed in me and I… I couldn't save her." He sat back on his haunches and howled a deep and eerie song that made Sheldor's heart fill with unbearable misery.

Sheldor moved on and left the nerk to mourn his loss. He didn't even get to the next town when Wolowix informed him that the nerk was following him. Sheldor, unfazed by the incident, just snorted and spoke loud enough for the nerk to hear him, "If he wants to die… then who am I to stand in his way." The nerk followed him wherever he went from then on in. At first, it had become a nuisance, but the more they traveled… the more the two depended on each other. The nerk would hunt for food and the witch hunter would hunt for the witch… they were a team and soon, they were almost friends.

Sheldor noticed his hippocamp was now cooked to the appropriate temperature to consume so he made to move the meat from the makeshift fire dogs that Wolowix showed him how to make to hold the meat just far above the fire to not burn it, but a loud scream filled the air all around them and made him pause in his efforts. The scream seemed to have resonated from in front of them. Sheldor stood slowly and gripped his arbalest and let the prods click out as he raised it and readied it to fire at any oncoming attack.

Onar stood and snarled in the complete opposite direction of where Sheldor was aiming. He looked over and groaned. Nerkanines were notorious for having horrible eyesight, but their unbelievable hearing and agility were renowned far and wide. Wolowix's voice filled Sheldor's ears, "I can't tell which of you is being THE idiot." Sheldor hissed at the trinket and the woods seemed to fall deadly quiet. It almost rung in the witch hunter's ears as his heart started to beat exponentially faster.

In a split second, a branch snapped and Onar roared a warning and he spun around just in time to see a black blur speed forward as steel lurched forward. Sheldor raised his free arm just in time to counter the thrust towards his neck. The fishbone blade of the enemy's glaive slid off the sleeve with sparks of failure. The fully black covered enemy bounced off the hippocamp on the fire and rode the carcass till it hit the amber and ash of the magically fire below. Sheldor stared at the dirtied meal and sighed, Wolowix yelled, "You DO have better things to worry about, MAN!" Sheldor groaned and pointed his arbalest at the figure, "Yes, but I had that perfectly cooked to 145 degrees and evenly toasted on every side. What a waste it is, now."

Onar slunk to his side with a snarl, "Not a good time to be crying over fallen hippocamp. Our enemy is an unknown."

Sheldor stared at the enemy. It was small, probably no more than 5'9, but was strong enough to wield a massive weapon that seemed almost as long as the enemy itself. The blade of the glaive had a large, crescent shaped blade, much larger than the other three crescent shaped blades underneath it. Where the blades met the pole were a band of needle sharp spikes brimming around. The other end of the glaive was semi-circle hooks flying different directions with a long spade shaped blade on the very end. It was quite a weapon, but it was the predator's glowing green eyes that made the figure more menacing. It reminded Sheldor of the Felinex, the cat people. Sheldor took in a few deep breaths and stood up straighter and pointed the arbalest right at the figure's chest, "Your next move will determine whether you live or die. Surrender or attack… either way, the consequences of your actions shall be yours, regardless. Know this… I NEVER miss my mark." A magical arrow cocked itself in and Sheldor narrowed his eyes in anticipation.

The enemy's free arm rose across its chest and flings downward and a throwing star in the shape of an open blossom that spins against his chest for a few moments before falling to the ground below. Onar's guttural snarl brings him back to attention and he looks up to see the enemy in full flight and fight mode. Onar's pounce wasn't aimed towards the enemy, rather than its weapon. Sheldor rolled to avoid more of the blossoms as Onar's massive jaws snap and clench the base of the fish bone blade just below the needle spikes and snaps the huge blade right off. The blade drops and Onar lands on all fours not too far from it as the enemy is flung forward from losing the weight of the blade and rolls to the ground.

Sheldor aimed, taking a shot at the exposed buttocks. The magical arrow popped into the right cheek and a very feminine squeal hits his ears. The enemy ripped off its mask, spinning around. Sheldor watched as honey etched tresses spring and spill around the most beautiful face he had ever seen. His eyes meet the reptilian green orbs of the time-stealing stare and his breath hitches and for once, his mind ceases in thought. He shook out of his momentary coma just as the woman darted her butt towards him, looking down at it with a very angry face, then back at him and snarls with a high pitched voice,

"You… you shot me, you crazy bastard!"