Author's Notes: When I first wrote this fic on paper, I didn't like it at
all. I had put in not enough on the setting about the vampires, and I also
had the fight with the vampire done all wrong. I fixed it up when I typed
it up, and the below is result. I like it actually, and I think it does
Grove credit. Please review and tell me if you like it and whether or not I
should continue, though regardless, I probably will finish this fic,
because Grove is one of my favourite characters, and not many seem to like
him, as much as I do.
Disclaimer: The characters lying here to within are copyright to their original owner, and although I would like to own the rights to Grove Marcus, alas I do not. The setting also belongs to the owner, though the history of Grove's past belongs to me, though it may not be how the creator chooses it to be, it is my depiction!
Copyrighted to Astian Leslie Hannan 2003.
--
He stood there, silently watching, upon the small snowy hill overlooking the recent ruins of a prosperous merchant town. Now all that remained was rubble and skeletal buildings which cried out for restoration, but would never get it. The times were hard, now, as vampires were slowly gaining power. Now, such things as stakes, garlic and crosses did not scare or stop them. Where they walked water would freeze, and blossoms would wilt. Glass would crack and shatter, and humans would die. The vampires ruled in large stone castles, over baronies, and kingdoms, both small and large. No-one could escape their oppression. Humans were as cattle, and could be picked off and slaughtered at will, on a whim. That was until Vampire Hunters were called upon. Groups of many humans would rally together with many weapons of both physical and spiritual propeties, with magic, and knowledge behind their lines. Marching upon all the ruthless vampires in the world, still it was not enough. Slowly the human race was dying out, and all that remained were little settlements. Humans hid at night, sheltered behind walls of stone and timber, awaiting their death. The times were tough, and were soon to get worse.
And so there the man stood, his robes and shawl billowing out behind him in the chilly winter breeze. The only thing stopping vampires now was the sun, which was slowly decending towards the horizon. Soon night would come, and the monsters with it. He had to be swift, before the vampires sought out his target. His silver bangs flowed out around his head, shoulder length, in the waves of wind that caught it. His hand brushed away the hair from his eyes, causing the bracelets on his wrist to clatter as they fell down his thin arm, to mid forearm.
He had always been scrawny, ever since he was a child. And he was the youngest of four brothers, whom he adored, yet could not match in battle. Even now, his willpower was strong, and his physical appearance never overpowered his determination to complete all the tasks he set himself to do. Not once had it before, and nor would it now. Just afew hours prior, he had heard the scream of a little girl, and had left the camp of his brothers, to seek out the source, knowing that there was trouble. He had crested the hill not long before, and stood, surveying what lay before him. He hoped that he wasn't to late to help the source of the scream. To stop his fretting and ease his mind he began his stroll down the hill, towards the town, nestled in the bowl of an impact site. Made by a crator many years ago, even before he was born, it once was a good defence against vampires, but no more.
The buildings greeted him with indifference. Burnt and blackened beyond help and repair, his breath clouded before him as a sigh escaped his lips. Why would the vampires not relent? Why must they torture the humans so? Why couldn't they be left in peace? His jade green eyes scanned from left to right, finding nothing but death and carnage, his quaterstaff held up defensively before him. The staff was one made of the finest oak in the world. It had been given as a reward for freeing a captured damsel from the manor of a ruthless vampire. The journey to and from the location had been hard, and as reward, the man had found the staff to be sufficiant. It was tuned at either end into a fine sharp point. Like a stake it was lethal to a vampire. A ring of gold circled one end, and one of silver the other. The ring of gold had fire runes inscribed into it, and the silver, ice. The staff had magical properties which the man had exploited so many times before. He hoped he could do so again now, if the need arised.
From up ahead he heard the muffled sobs of a little girl, and from where he stood in the snow, he had a short walk up a hill to find the source of the sound. Broken in windows of buildings stared lifelessly at him as he progressed, to the site of many graves, marked with large stone crosses. Before one of the graves knelt a small gril, with her back to him. She wore winter clothing, that looked warm, with mittens to keep her hands warm. Her hands covered her face as she silently wept, her blonde hair fluttering in the breeze.
A step and crack of glass brought the attention of the girl to the man, and he stopped, standing, waiting. He knew not if the girl was a turned, but was pretty sure she wasn't, unless she was a Dunpeal, but still, even then they were rare. The girl gasped at the man, as he stepped foward, with his right hand extended towards her.
"Don't be frightened, I am here to-" he began, being cut off suddenly.
"Behind you!" the girl screeched, pointing behind the man to a black cloaked figure that flew at him. The scrawny man turned quickly, and was just in time to take the blow from the vampire's claw on his staff, but not soon enough to prevent himself from losing his footing and falling backwards, with the vampire clawing at him.
He shook his head from left to right as he struggled under the weight of the vampire, barely avoiding the snapping jaws of the vampire, as it set to lash onto his neck. A grunt of pain escaped his lips as he used the momentum of the vampire's lunges to roll them over and swiftly bring the gold ringed end of the staff to impale it. He closed his eyes, focusing on a blank void and muttered a single archaic word. The runes on the ring glowed, glittered then swirled into sparks which flowed through the tip, into the vampire. The man pulled away quickly, moving back as the vampire burst into flames. He stood there watching the vampire shriek in pain, as it watched him through blood red eyes.
Hands wrapping around his waist alerted him to another presence, the girl, nestled close. Tears flowed down her face, and dripped to the cold snow. His wiry arm dislodged her from him, as he knelt before her. His thumb wiped the tear from her face, under her deep set blue eyes.
"Thankyou, sir?" she asked.
"Grove. Grove Marcus. And your name is, child?" The man named Grove replied.
"I am Leila. Leila Stormwind. My mother and father were killed by vampires. A Dunpeal helped me, but then left. I don't know where to go now. I have nothing left." she whispered to him.
He stood and grabbed her hand, pulling her up with him.
"The answer to that is simple, Leila. You will come with me." he told her, and pulled her along the road, back to the Marcus camp.
"Thankyou, Mr. Grove!" she said, in happiness.
Grove only smiled and nodded, just happy that he had completed yet another task.
Disclaimer: The characters lying here to within are copyright to their original owner, and although I would like to own the rights to Grove Marcus, alas I do not. The setting also belongs to the owner, though the history of Grove's past belongs to me, though it may not be how the creator chooses it to be, it is my depiction!
Copyrighted to Astian Leslie Hannan 2003.
--
He stood there, silently watching, upon the small snowy hill overlooking the recent ruins of a prosperous merchant town. Now all that remained was rubble and skeletal buildings which cried out for restoration, but would never get it. The times were hard, now, as vampires were slowly gaining power. Now, such things as stakes, garlic and crosses did not scare or stop them. Where they walked water would freeze, and blossoms would wilt. Glass would crack and shatter, and humans would die. The vampires ruled in large stone castles, over baronies, and kingdoms, both small and large. No-one could escape their oppression. Humans were as cattle, and could be picked off and slaughtered at will, on a whim. That was until Vampire Hunters were called upon. Groups of many humans would rally together with many weapons of both physical and spiritual propeties, with magic, and knowledge behind their lines. Marching upon all the ruthless vampires in the world, still it was not enough. Slowly the human race was dying out, and all that remained were little settlements. Humans hid at night, sheltered behind walls of stone and timber, awaiting their death. The times were tough, and were soon to get worse.
And so there the man stood, his robes and shawl billowing out behind him in the chilly winter breeze. The only thing stopping vampires now was the sun, which was slowly decending towards the horizon. Soon night would come, and the monsters with it. He had to be swift, before the vampires sought out his target. His silver bangs flowed out around his head, shoulder length, in the waves of wind that caught it. His hand brushed away the hair from his eyes, causing the bracelets on his wrist to clatter as they fell down his thin arm, to mid forearm.
He had always been scrawny, ever since he was a child. And he was the youngest of four brothers, whom he adored, yet could not match in battle. Even now, his willpower was strong, and his physical appearance never overpowered his determination to complete all the tasks he set himself to do. Not once had it before, and nor would it now. Just afew hours prior, he had heard the scream of a little girl, and had left the camp of his brothers, to seek out the source, knowing that there was trouble. He had crested the hill not long before, and stood, surveying what lay before him. He hoped that he wasn't to late to help the source of the scream. To stop his fretting and ease his mind he began his stroll down the hill, towards the town, nestled in the bowl of an impact site. Made by a crator many years ago, even before he was born, it once was a good defence against vampires, but no more.
The buildings greeted him with indifference. Burnt and blackened beyond help and repair, his breath clouded before him as a sigh escaped his lips. Why would the vampires not relent? Why must they torture the humans so? Why couldn't they be left in peace? His jade green eyes scanned from left to right, finding nothing but death and carnage, his quaterstaff held up defensively before him. The staff was one made of the finest oak in the world. It had been given as a reward for freeing a captured damsel from the manor of a ruthless vampire. The journey to and from the location had been hard, and as reward, the man had found the staff to be sufficiant. It was tuned at either end into a fine sharp point. Like a stake it was lethal to a vampire. A ring of gold circled one end, and one of silver the other. The ring of gold had fire runes inscribed into it, and the silver, ice. The staff had magical properties which the man had exploited so many times before. He hoped he could do so again now, if the need arised.
From up ahead he heard the muffled sobs of a little girl, and from where he stood in the snow, he had a short walk up a hill to find the source of the sound. Broken in windows of buildings stared lifelessly at him as he progressed, to the site of many graves, marked with large stone crosses. Before one of the graves knelt a small gril, with her back to him. She wore winter clothing, that looked warm, with mittens to keep her hands warm. Her hands covered her face as she silently wept, her blonde hair fluttering in the breeze.
A step and crack of glass brought the attention of the girl to the man, and he stopped, standing, waiting. He knew not if the girl was a turned, but was pretty sure she wasn't, unless she was a Dunpeal, but still, even then they were rare. The girl gasped at the man, as he stepped foward, with his right hand extended towards her.
"Don't be frightened, I am here to-" he began, being cut off suddenly.
"Behind you!" the girl screeched, pointing behind the man to a black cloaked figure that flew at him. The scrawny man turned quickly, and was just in time to take the blow from the vampire's claw on his staff, but not soon enough to prevent himself from losing his footing and falling backwards, with the vampire clawing at him.
He shook his head from left to right as he struggled under the weight of the vampire, barely avoiding the snapping jaws of the vampire, as it set to lash onto his neck. A grunt of pain escaped his lips as he used the momentum of the vampire's lunges to roll them over and swiftly bring the gold ringed end of the staff to impale it. He closed his eyes, focusing on a blank void and muttered a single archaic word. The runes on the ring glowed, glittered then swirled into sparks which flowed through the tip, into the vampire. The man pulled away quickly, moving back as the vampire burst into flames. He stood there watching the vampire shriek in pain, as it watched him through blood red eyes.
Hands wrapping around his waist alerted him to another presence, the girl, nestled close. Tears flowed down her face, and dripped to the cold snow. His wiry arm dislodged her from him, as he knelt before her. His thumb wiped the tear from her face, under her deep set blue eyes.
"Thankyou, sir?" she asked.
"Grove. Grove Marcus. And your name is, child?" The man named Grove replied.
"I am Leila. Leila Stormwind. My mother and father were killed by vampires. A Dunpeal helped me, but then left. I don't know where to go now. I have nothing left." she whispered to him.
He stood and grabbed her hand, pulling her up with him.
"The answer to that is simple, Leila. You will come with me." he told her, and pulled her along the road, back to the Marcus camp.
"Thankyou, Mr. Grove!" she said, in happiness.
Grove only smiled and nodded, just happy that he had completed yet another task.