Prologue
The night beckons.
Quickly and almost without sound, he rises out of a pile of smooth cloth. Moving out of the tent, yet again with only a slight rustle, he basks himself in the moonlight, suddenly filled with comfort and confidence.
Pausing shortly, he notes the other human tents in the area. His senses are acute and true, providing him knowledge of every little movement in his vicinity. A slight tilt of the head of an owl, a light leap of a grasshopper- he revelled in his superior instincts, for he had grown quite accustomed to human abilities.
Human abilities? I am human.
And although he could not see them through their tents, he could feel them, breathing heavily in their sleep, some snoring like vulnerable critters. He knew his escape would be uninterrupted.
Abruptly he rushed off into a direction, leaping over freshly fallen logs and giant tree stumps, his small frame and light figure making untraceable tracks in the thick grass. With uncanny speed and grace, he entered the safety of the trees.
A dream perhaps? Most likely. Feeling but not seeing…knowing but not comprehending- yes, of course, it was a dream. What else would it be?
He continued to make through the trees, leaping between trunks, jumping from branch to branch and avoiding pitfalls like a predator in its own hunting zone. And then, as abruptly as he started, he stopped on top of a branch, crouching low like a tiger, surveying the clearing ahead.
His memory verified several times that it was the correct place. Self-assured, he sprung highly into the air with powerful muscles, and landed squarely but remarkably softly in the middle of the sandy path.
Standing up straight, he exhaled with a hint of relief.
"Nicht 'glade, my dear sisters," he whispered.
Before he had finished his last word, the shadows in front of his eyes melted and began to warp slowly. Around him the pure, white moonlight gave sight to a small gathering of elven women, dark-skinned and battle-ready. They were unlike the elves you see everyday, in that their skin bore a purple hue, and their general facial features were not the same. Their garments, armour and weaponry were also different. Several of them mounted giant panther rides, which at the sight of this warrior made faint, content gestures.
"Nicht 'glade, great Leçram," a heavy female voice said from a distance in the small crowd. Slight shuffling noises of armour and equipment…as they gave way to a less heavily-dressed, but more elaborately-clad female. Riding her own distinctive-looking panther, she bore a solemn expression that commanded respect.
From behind her, she produced two gigantic, curved blades. Representing half-circles, the giant arcs were heavy but delicate, purely metallic, and filled with carven ornaments, which when given the shadows from the surrounding forest, were impossible to make out.
It was well eroded and worn, with many notches in the blades. And with age, the runic patterns on the blades no longer held its original beauty. It was as if… the whole artifact was a testament to the too many battles this warrior has seen.
If truth be told however, the actual structure of the weapon was…a bit farfetched, more like some decorative weapon shown at military parades. Ones that never make it to the real battlefield, one might conclude. For one, its range is unrealistically short. Nevertheless, a low, indiscernible aura seems to emit from the aged weapon, hinting something more.
She bent down on her steed with a posture that was almost ritual-like, extending the two blades to him. A little to his surprise, he accepted them slowly but fluidly, with an equally-practiced, yet somehow awkward, movement.
The grooves in the thick metallic handles fitting unbelievably well, he extended the blades into the star-filled sky, and swished the weapons through the air a few times- testing the blades, and his strength. The others watched him closely, their feline companions paying close attention as well.
Finally satisfied, he dropped them to his sides.
"It astonishes me," he began, while examining his blades, "how a warrior can survive a battle, while its mount cannot."
There was deathly silence.
Directed at the commander, it was criticism from a feared warrior and a respected leader, and as such, its effect was severe.
Her face reddened as if slapped, and silently, she thanked the darkness for its protection in front of her fellow sisters. A thousand emotions rushed up into her mind at that instant. This is the first thing he has to say? I've sacrificed… so much for the sisterhood, and tried to be strong in front of them, while you were gone, and then you come and tear down my…after those desperate times?
But being the responsible spiritual leader that she was, (and especially because she was a spiritual one) she could not break down, no matter how much she wanted to at that moment.
"If you were referring to my tiger companion," she said, trying her hardest to sound composed, "she has suffered a minor injury, while hunting by herself, and is currently resting in camp."
Noting her hostility and the severity of his tease, he offered an amused chuckle, his worn, stern expression melting into a big, carefree grin. For a moment there, to the priestess and the others, he seemed young again. In that instant, he was that young elf back at home, hunting fish instead of demons, being able to run wherever he liked, instead of having to carry the burden of battle armour and the responsibilities of a commander.
That moment faded quickly. Nonetheless, he still kept his mirth.
He jumped up onto her panther, seated himself right behind her, embraced one of her burning cheeks with a hand, and touched her other with his lips. He then wrapped his powerful arms around her slender waist, partly to secure himself on the ride, and partly for his own amusement…all this time, his blades missing her unprotected skin, narrowly but knowingly.
Shocked but heart-warmed by the sight of their priestess being treated so, they smiled at the image of their two leaders acting like young innocent lovers. The onlookers erased all minimal doubts they had of their great Leçram. At the sight of his sudden humour and compassion, they realised how important such warmth was to them at these trying times.
"Let us begin!" he said, in a cheerful voice. "The night is young, but time is always running out for me. So, if you don't mind, gracious leader…"
"Alright, sisters, let's move out," she ordered, her anger slowly fading away.
And they began, with the priestess, Leçram and their panther at the centre front, leading their crowd of warriors.
"It has been quite some time," he said with a knowing smile, turning to face the young-looking female walking beside him. "But, as the ancients say, it is when a girl is in love that her beauty truly blooms. And, right now, you are looking splendid. And I do truly mean it. So, who's the lucky fellow in my little Shanders' favour?"
He was breaking rules in the Night Elf code for battle. Warriors were supposed to be at their optimum performance, following orders without a word. But hey, waves upon waves away from home, who's taking down names?
"Don't tell him Shanders," the priestess cut in. "Never trust a blind, old man with anything."
Shanders, along with the few younger women, couldn't keep it a smile.
He suddenly leapt off the panther, turned around, and faced the others, walking backwards slowly to accommodate for the movement of the group.
"You see, this is what I come back for, time after time," he said, with a heavy, dramatic tone, and his arms outstretched. "For the feeling of family! Not for the companionship of the wild, nor the satisfaction of splitting a demon open…and not even for the welcoming radiance of moonlight. At this stage of my battered existence, these simple pleasures have become worn and tattered. And as you said, I am old, and my time here is overdue."
A few uncomfortable shuffles.
"Why must you batter yourself so, Leçram?" said she (the only one there ranked enough to address him by name). And to get back at him for damaging her image as a priestess, she added, "you are a renowned warrior, with abilities that are envied by many great elves of your same status. You should be proud! Not sober. And what of your acting wildly all of a sudden? Has being hu…"
She clicked her tongue, and hastily corrected herself. "Has being away from women turned you mad?"
He eyed her for a little. Then he replied in a calm voice, "I do whatever I need to to boost the morale of my units. As a commander, I understand hopelessness and what it can do to soldiers. I will do whatever it takes to fight it and keep us in good shape, even at my own expense. Everyone needs something to keep them fighting, I believe.
For me…I do not return simply because of that insignificant elven order. Let this be a lesson from an old man. It is the feeling of famine that keeps me sane; in the end, only famine is everlasting."
"Umm…how do you mean?"
"Sorry? Didn't I say… Oh, primitive human tongue!"
The Vampire Marcel
by Endearth
"…and then she fell face-first into the sponge cake!"
Immense laughter, especially from Leçram, as he was about the only one who has not heard it a dozen times before. But they all enjoyed a good laugh, partly because the character in discussion was known and loved by all of them, and partly because he was with them now, and the sound of his chuckle was too good to resist. Even the priestess lost herself to the waves of laughter.
Have you ever heard the laugh of a female Night Elf? It is soft, quite pleasing and melodious, like the morning song of forest birds.
"Hey, that's not funny!" the targeted female accused. "That herb cake took us hours!"
At that instant, the male Night Elf abruptly stopped his chuckling and stared hard at her. Quickly, the others also stopped and, feeling a little frightened, looked for an explanation in his blank expression. The young female who had uttered the triggering sentence grew extremely confused and terrified, and with her eyes, begged her priestess to save her.
"Hold your positions," he whispered. Despite the volume of his request, they all stopped dead in their tracks.
Thinking the tease was too much this time, the priestess felt very sympathetic for her young sister.
"Leçram, don't," she pleaded kindly, a bit startled herself. "Sisters, let us continue. It is getting late."
But they did not move an inch, only looking up to her in confusion. Now she began to feel a bit annoyed.
"That was a direct order from your-"
"Dispatch your sentinel," he said to the nearest panther-rider. Without question, she quickly released it to the closest tree.
It took a moment, but undoubtedly the answer came, although quite unpleasantly.
One by one, they were revealed. They looked like spirits, almost transparent. A lot of them had long, brown fur covering their disfigured bodies. Some were walking very closely to the Night Elves, just a few feet away from them. Too close for comfort.
At first they did not notice they had been discovered, as most of them were walking with their heads down. But then, Leçram pushed one of them to face him. It looked straight at him with bright, yellow eyes. Then, a kick in its chest sent the thing off, squarely into a tree chunk.
Perhaps it was the creature's initial scream that alerted them all, or perhaps it was the grotesque sound of bones being crushed that started it.
With its internal systems out of order, what came out of the creature was a series of barely audible crackles.
"We have been discovered, kill them all except the one with-"
Leçram landed one foot firmly against its chest, and with a swift metallic sound, swept his head off.
"It's a demon ambush!" the priestess said, taking charge. Her panther reared as she held out her bow. "For Elune, my sisters!"
In response, one of the warriors arched her body back, readying her disk-like weapon, her panther bending back in perfect unison. She then hurled the spinning ring of blades in an electrifying motion. The deadly projectile caught a small-framed creature, driving it into the soil. It managed a low, gagging noise.
Slow, wicked laughter. This one, slightly bigger, pounced towards Leçram, who noted its mistake. Its angle of entry was too vulnerable, and with ease, an elf nearby shot his eye with a thump, throwing its body back in midair.
And so on, the elven unit dispatched them quickly and without casualty. They heeded it as a warning however, for these were only scouts, and stronger opponents lay in wait for them ahead.
They were all slain except one. The priestess shot at it, but with its long, reversely-bent legs, it sprinted away quickly enough to dodge the shot, the silver, glowing arrow dropping to the earth, along with its trail of shiny dust specks.
Without thought, he chased after it with uncanny speed, and the rest of them charged after him.
It was almost in his blade's reach when it suddenly disappeared. There was no delay. In a blink of an eye, it vanished. He slowed his pursuit to a walk.
When the rest of the troop had caught up to him, they waited patiently for him to catch his breath.
"Shall I dispatch a sentinel?"
"No, it is gone by now."
A gush of wild.
"Come, let us continue. And keep up your guard."
They needed no further warning. As they moved, each one of them commanded total concentration on their surroundings.
"Priestess," an elf said. "Come see this."
They circled around a thick, lush bush. The plant was a known species, but the speck of fur on it was even more familiar.
He lightly nudged the bush with his foot.
"It's hollow," he reported. And bending slightly, he headed through the strange entrance, gently brushing the leaves aside.
"Priestess, you want us to demount?" one of the riding soldiers confirmed.
"Actually, stay here until we return," she instructed. She then hopped off her ride and signalled her animal companion to follow one of the mounted warriors for the time being. "Hide yourselves in the shadows, in case more concealed enemies return. Avoid combat as best you can."
"Yes, priestess."
"The rest of you, come with me."
It was a dark tunnel hollowed from thick bushes, and it spanned for quite some time. They felt nervous and treaded through quickly, the dark leaves brushing their heads, knowing they were quite open to any ambush that might occur. None came, to their fortune.
When they emerged, the sight that met them was quite unexpected.
Literally everywhere, small monkey-like creatures with auburn coats roamed around peacefully. It was a secluded but large domain, with rolling hills and gentle slopes, and a carpet of lightly-coloured grass on top. Some of these animals were lying around lazily, some were chasing one another around bushes and plants, and many were wandering around on trees.
These giant, thick trees restrained much moonlight from lighting this place, and so only a dim view of the surroundings was possible.
There was a fountain near the centre of this unknown sector of the forest, and the faint moonlight coloured the water quite beautifully.
On a cliff facing the ocean shore was the silhouette of a delicately-shaped female.
The elves were almost in awe. They hadn't thought such beauty was possible here. Sure, they respected the wild the same way they did back home. But they had always regarded the island as a barren place, demon-infested, filled with threats. Quite visibly, they were proven wrong.
Slowly and almost trance-like, the small group of elves approached the female, hoping for an explanation.
Before he could say anything, she turned to face him, the shadows from the trees above concealing her features.
"And then I asked him, 'Master, how shall we confront them this time?'" she said with a faint, gentle voice. "And then he responded, 'you will confront them, and you shall face them…as themselves.' So, the humans will fall, and after them, you."
She took a step forward, and the moonlight revealed a disfigured mouth, filled with rancid fluids and sinister teeth. Then, her eyes glowed a fearsome red, shaped with delight.
She thrust her hideous claw forward, and an overwhelming force erupted from the ground and knocked all of them back.
"You will fail, succubus," Leçram said, quickly getting back on his feet.
"I do not think so, stubborn Night Elves," she said, pronouncing 'Night Elves' with a controlled hatred.
The monkeys were not monkeys at all. Some dropping from trees, some leaving whatever they were doing, they hastily closed in around them. A closer look at these creatures revealed that they were servants of evil, with abnormally large and powerful hands, and eyes that had small, red pupils. Their teeth were that of wolves, and their faces were coarsely-haired, making them look mean and vicious. They were an imitation of nature, an imitation of life.
"We will use them against themselves, and deceit is the greatest weapon against their kind. You know this."
"Against who? What are these 'humans' you speak of, fiend?" Shanders blurted, unable to keep down her frustration. This provoked a string of hideous cackles from the demon.
"Of course, you have not told them yet, priestess! Oh, but it makes it so much more pleasurable!" she said beneath her gruesome smile. "Humans, my dear! Pink-skinned creatures who are no more than pigs…but who will ultimately be your defeat. Their minds can be bent and snapped like little twigs…it is a beautiful thing."
"You will fail," he said again, ignoring her.
"Oh? But who can resist a figure like this?" she exclaimed, laughing. Her cloak then slipped off to expose a naked, human female body. Most of the elf-women looked off to the side. Leçram, along with the priestess and a few others, kept their focus on her, though.
It was well shaped, and true to her word, it was probably irresistible to every mortal man.
Then her nude body warped into a fully-armoured figure.
"I will fail? We will see, demon hunter. The masquerade has just begun."
At that, he chuckled slowly. Then he lowered his head and grunted.
Flames erupted from his arms, then covered his entire body. Flickering and flaring dangerously, he blazed like a torch, his scorching body lighting up the surrounding darkness. He had invoked the spell of ancient demon hunters, known to some as Immolation, and it turned his body into a living torch.
He scanned his fellow warriors, who returned his glance with uneasy looks, and he noted that the coats of the monkey-like monsters were beginning to ignite, the ends of their hairs catching bright orange. Lastly, he returned his fiery glance to the succubus.
Moving his powerful arms and legs into a battle stance, the flames swishing by, he exhaled.
"Then let's dance."
She plunged her claw out again, and once more, a shockwave began to crash towards the demon hunter. However this time, he cast his hand out just in time, and the magic she was channelling exploded inside of her, his action depleting her of her spell. She gave a scream as blue flames evaporated from her body, draining her of her abilities temporarily.
Using this as a distraction, the priestess took out a scroll.
"By Elune, stars grant us protection from-"
Before she could finish the chant, one of the furred creatures lashed out at her, tearing away some of delicate skin from her arm.
She yelped in pain. "Beware! Be wary of their speed!"
Enraged, a nearby elven warrior shot at its landing spot, and the arrow took the monster just before it could land and react.
"Fight, my warriors!" he said in attempt to inspire his group. With an extended motion, he cut down four beasts in one rapid sweep, to further encourage them.
Despite his bravery, it was looking grim for the elves. They were outnumbered and taken by surprise. No longer did they fight with the same unity and battle prowess that they had demonstrated earlier. And, they paid for it.
A warrior would fire (and land) three arrows in the blink of an eye, but still be overwhelmed by the waves of demons. Even with their small size, these beasts took down extremely well-trained warriors, just by their sheer numbers, each taking a swipe of their prey like hungry piranhas. Eventually, enough of them would gather around a warrior's legs or shoulders to bring her down to the ground. And from there on, it was a horrid sight.
It didn't help any further that they were separated. The demon hunter was fighting elsewhere, trying to execute outrageous but effective stunts like spinning 360º while airborne, attempting to slash 7, 8, 9, or even 10 of them at once.
But there was a speck of hope for these battle-ridden ones.
"To me!" the priestess commanded, unable to wield her bow from her arm injury, but was protected by a few fearless warriors.
The remaining survivors tried to inch towards their leader, firing and cursing simultaneously. But they did manage to gather into a small cluster.
"You must protect me while I call upon the help of Elune," she explained. "I cannot be interrupted in the process, or all might be lost."
Luckily for them, the fiery presence of the demon hunter took a toll on these monsters, as they were constantly being charred by his flames. As a result, they could not maintain their previous ferocity in combat.
She began her chant, clutching her necklace with the symbol of her moon goddess Elune on it. She mustered all her concentration, trying to push away the burning pain from her wounded arm. Inside of her mind, she looked for that passage, that special pathway to her goddess.
She was searching, looking, hoping…but it did not come to her yet. The throbbing pain tried to pull her back out, but she resisted. How were her soldiers holding up? Were they suffering? Dying? She pushed these questions back. She had faith: the goddess will be with her.
As if in response, a doorway emerged in her view. She lunged towards it, and a white light surrounded her. She returned to reality.
The same intense light glowed from her eyes. A ripple shook the very air around her, and beams of light rushed up at her from the earth.
Starfall.
The goddess had answered her call.
The spectacle was both beautiful and haunting. It was as if the stars themselves had lent their aid. The other elven soldiers all stopped to watch the sky, having seen this astounding feat only a few times in all of their careers.
The sky rained colossal meteors. As each hit the ground, the earth under it yielded into small craters. Remarkably, these giant spheres of energy only targeted their enemies, and each one destroyed a handful of them. The sound of their impact was tremendously loud, shaking the earth around them, and these crashes were accompanied by agonizing screams. To them it was a melody badly-needed.
The demon hunter was far into the waves of beasts when it occurred. He was about to dodge the forward lunge of one of these small-sized fiends, when a meteor crashed down onto it, surprising both of them. Feeling no need to continue, he rushed back to his sisters, perhaps to tend to any wounded ones.
As he was approaching a hilltop, he saw his group of warriors far off into a distance. Amongst all the monkey-fiends being slaughtered, either by arrow or by the wrath of Elune, a figure rushed towards the group. He looked like…him. No, he was the demon hunter, Leçram. Then, he realized it was one of the succubus' tricks. He screamed at them, warning them, waving his hands madly. But the meteors drowned out his words and blocked off his attempts.
He watched hopelessly as one of his warriors…Shanders approached the impostor. The demon ignored her, brushing past her, heading straight for the priestess. Annoyed and perhaps playfully, she grabbed his shoulder. He stopped long enough to gouge her with the tip of his arched blades, running an extent of the weapon into her body. Horrified, Leçram's heart skipped a beat.
The others were now looking at the impostor, who pulled his blade out of the limp body and continued advancing towards the priestess. They readied their bows, but were awfully unsure of what to do.
Leçram cursed himself deeply for not remembering, and it had cost him dearly. He quickly pulled out a wand and uttered a word. A magical wave washed over the area. Then, the object crumpled into small pebbles in his hands, signifying the depletion of its power.
The impostor's disguise was stolen away by the wave of negative energy. Now comprehending, the archers let all their arrows fly. Unfortunately, the succubus had transformed into one of the monkey-like beasts in a quick puff of dark, red smoke, and the arrows only pierced the magical mist. She was quickly out of sight, disappearing under the many hills.
The real Leçram ran to meet his troupe. Relieved, he greeted them with a shout, and with the duration of the spell reached, his voice could be heard.
"Let's get out of here."
+++
They looked for the corpses of their fallen comrades, but learned that the fiends had devoured even that. With the exception of Shanders, they did not carry their dead back with them.
Drained but relieved, they went back through the passageway through the bushes, leaving their false paradise behind. They treaded slowly now, pondering the cost of victory, and the curious words that the demon had left them.
"The priestess really did it? Oh Leçram, tell me we didn't miss that."
The priestess was the first to emerge, carrying Shander's body on her shoulder. She stood up to meet the sight of…Leçram talking to her group of warriors that were left behind.
He smiled at her easily. "Good, you're back! I was wondering-"
She pushed him away firmly with one arm. The ones he was talking to were about to ask, but they saw the corpse she was holding and decided against the notion.
"Which one are you? Tell me!" she shouted hopelessly, her rage suddenly taking the better of her.
One by one the returning warriors appeared out of the bushes, and eyed this new sight with cold shock. The other demon hunter was the last to come out. But when he did, he lit up in rage.
"Deceiving swine!"
The mounted warriors were confused as ever. They readied their weapons, but simply did not know who to use them on. However, with their dense armour and fearsome panther mounts, it seemed that they were the determining factor in this encounter, the ones who will decide the outcome right now.
"He murdered Shanders!" accused the one who stayed with the priestess. The riders looked at him with doubt. How dare you show me doubt? he roared inside his head. His grief had caused him to be easily provoked. But he realized something. Of course…the field had been working her tricks on them before the troupe returned.
"No, he is the fake! A demon!" the other one convinced. He turned to face his double. Then he made a mistake. "You're the one who murdered Shanders!"
At first he opened his mouth to protest. But then he realized the truth in that statement. Yes, he did kill Shanders. And he was unfit to lead them, his abilities now were less acute.
But first, the impostor.
"Listen to me!" the thing said again. But now he could hardly hear it. He was drowned in a sea of emotions. Then the waters turned blood red.
"The same trick will not work again!" the demon hunter raged. Then his mind burst open… as a dark cloud surrounded his body. Thin strands of electricity arched across his arms, his legs and his body…all of which expanded into demonic proportions. Dark, clouded wings gushed out from his back, and his eyes burned with a new passion.
"See? I told you he was the demon!" the thing said, grinning around with satisfaction. But they did not return his relief. Rather, they recognized this new entity for what it was: a feared ability to temporary mutate demon hunters (and only the most powerful ones could accomplish this) into terrifying demons of destruction. Rather, they watched the impostor with a look of fear, and a hint of sympathy.
"Now, kill him! Destroy his evil body!"
The powerful creature walked towards the lesser demon, his long, thick legs propelling him with frightening speed, and his tremendous weight shaking the ground with each step.
"Send him back to hell sisters, where he be-"
With his immense claw, he caught the thing's throat. Lifting it high, he stared at it with limitless hatred. As he squeezed the life out of it slowly, the intense flames on his body crept up his arm, and onto his victim. In seconds, the fiend's body was engulfed in green, searing flames. The thing screamed horribly, its male elven voice quickly changing into a low, female demonic tone as it was forced back to its true form. Even the elves were in terror as they watched the charred fiend hold its agonizing pitch.
At last, he silenced the thing with one final grip, and it's head and body bent inwards horribly.
"A masquerade, eh? Aye, and the music has just ended."
+++
Author's Note: Thank you for reading my prologue and getting through it. It was a long read, I admit. But more to come, I assure you.
And what did you think? Your review/reply would be greatly appreciated.
If you were a bit lost: no, Leçram is not a vampire, not here. He is a Night Elf.
Please check back for more (the main character hasn't appeared yet!), as I take us on a journey to visit interesting people and places, and to redefine the meaning of "vampire". Leave your assumptions and Warcraft impressions at the door, this is going to be good!
-Endearth