The Fallen Angel
Chapter 1 : A Rouge Traveller
It was dark. I could only see a few meters ahead and somewhere, i knew, somewhere in this darkness was it hiding. „Show yourself !" I demanded. No response. „I know you
are here" The grip on my sword thighened unconsciously. It has bees a long time since I sweated during a hunt.
How many years have it been ? One decade ? Two ? I don´t know. It doesen´t matter. The only thing mattering right now is the hunt. I concentrated again and looked at my
surroundings, not that there was much to see in this darkness. The only things I could make out were some old oaks and high above a blood red moon. There were no traces
of the beast I was hunting. „I haven´t followed you here to play hide and seek, come out !" Still no response. But then I heard something behind me.
„What are you to pursue me to this place ? A Vampire ? No, you would be somewhere sucking blood if the blood moon is out … Could it be that you´re an Elf ? No, then you
wouldn´t wander around alone, while Vampires are out for blood … Mmh you sure are an intersting one ..."
This worthless talking was getting on my nerves, if he continued I would end up killing him without even knowing what creature he really is. Not that I would mind … An evil
grin spread on my face as I prepared every fiber in my body to jump on this thing and kill it.
„You´re not one for talking I figure", the man continued „Well maybe you´re a Fallen Angel then … You´re tall, scarred, carrying a black sword and an equally black mantle,
you´re definitly a Fallen."
Taking a deep breath I readied my blade and charged at him, only to hit thin air.
My opponent had vanished right before my eyes … interesting … Maybe I finally found a worthy enemy.
Suddenly something jumped out of the dark forcing me to dogde it barely.
In front of me was a Werewolf, about two and a half meters tall and with razor sharp fangs and talons wich were at least as long as my fingers. The beast didn´t want to
leave me time to recover and lashed out with its paws. It was too slow. I was already prepared. It was almost too easy to duck under the hit and stabbing the monsters
heart. It howled at the pain but then it´s facial expression, it one can call it that thinking of the snout and fur that were prominent in every Werewolfs face, changed.
I expected the beast to die but instead it simply grinned at me.
„Did you really think that this would kill me ? You would need a sword of silver, not shadow steel." This was common knownledgte, but I never fought a Werewolf before and I didn´t thnik some peasants blabbering could hold any worth. Would I pay with my life for my ignorace ? The Wolf definitly thought so …
No, I thought while evading the attacks os the monster. No, I wont die here … I still have something to do and this mere animal wont stop me.
Cutting off the head of a creature should always kill it …
I changed tactics and began attacking myself, while still dogding the wolf´s talons. But the beast wouldn´t back down either. If this continued I would run out of stamina and
get killed …
My stikes became more desperate and risky, but at the same time I saw an opening to land the finishing blow.
Maybe one of the Werewolfs lashed hits me and takes me with it but at least it won´t survive this.
Ducking once again under a hit I dashed forward trying to chop its head off.
That´s the last thing I remember.
Looking at the sun I figured it was around midday and I was laying on the ground of a small clearing somewhere in the Darkwoods. My head hurt like hell but at least I
couldn´t make out any dangers nearby. Next to me was a pool of halfway dried blood and in its center a severed wolf head and the rest of the stinking monster. Flys and ants
were already feasting on the corpse but they avoided me even when I was unconcious.
The aura of darkness sure is handy sometimes I thought to myself while getting up and trying to get the blood and dirt off my black clothes.
The beast of last night must have hit my head … I cleaned my blade on the wolfs fur and searched the pockets of my mantle for a mirror, to look if I had any sirous injuries on
my head. I never felt much pain but it was easy to die from blood loss or an infection if one wasn´t careful.
I hesitated when I saw my face. There were numerous old scars but they were nothing more than scratches. This time it got me much worse. The wound reached from above
my right eye to a spot below the high of my nose but still above my mouth. This would leave quite a scar … Not to mention the potential blood infection.
When I was younger I admired the warriors of my town. They looked intimidating with their armors, weapons, cold, almost deadly glares they were sending everyone like
they could only trust themselves and could be stabbed from behind any moment.
But what fascinated me most were the scars. They were signs of what terrors lurking in the shadows of the seemingly endless darkwoods theese men had faced – and killed.
If they did it to stay alive, to safe others, protect the city, or just to sell rare things like horns or vials of Gremling blood to alchemists and merchants didn´t matter to me.
I wanted to become like them. Without a real home, always traveling, killing monsters and living free without any laws or authorities to bind me. If I was pursued by soldiers
or bounty hunters I would simply travel to another province of the empire. If they found me neverthless, I would kill them.
It was the fantasy of a reckless boy, but now it is reality. I have no home nor firends but i´m a free warrior fighting monsters and bandits in the Darkwoods.
That´s all I ever wanted. But … But since a while I feel kind of … I dont know I soppose it is what theay call lonelyness.
No I have no time to get sentimental or regret past murders and other evil doings ...
I need to get out of this damn forest and find a healer.
To bad for me that I didnt even have the slightest clue where I was.