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Inc.
Castlevania Chronicles
Simon
Chapter three: Prelude to the Dark Abyss
Two lifeless bodies slumped to the ground, heads severed, splattering crimson blood on the walls, ceilings, and floor. Simon looked around the long corridor, the statues of forgotten warriors, leering over him, sensing anguish. The young Belmont then climbed two sets of stairs, and came upon a very large wooden door. The wooden door was stained with fresh blood, as if the door itself was bleeding. Simon cautiously pushed the door with his shoulder, for it was extremely heavy. The door swung open as if inviting its guest.
The chamber that lied beyond was quite different from the chambers Simon had gotten used to seeing. There were no paintings; in its place were bleeding skulls and maggot infested walls. The age-old statues and royal grandeurs were no longer present. In their place where maimed bodies, hanged or impaled, with several grand guillotines spread throughout the large corridors. The young Belmont quickly realized that this was no royal chamber. It was a prison.
Haunted Prison of the Forgotten Ones
Simon Belmont walked over to one of the nearby guillotines, having caught a glimpse of a small shining object. There was a body there, but not of a prison inmate, but of a catholic priest. Though having a strong belief in God like his ancestors before him, Simon did not consider himself highly religious. When Catholicism had spread throughout Rome and several small western European nations, Romania had yet to reach its influence due to Mathias' reign. As the Crusades raged in the eastern hemisphere, Transylvania eventually became a symbol to many. The Catholic Church forced and spread its beliefs on the people. The Church spread many laws throughout various countries, which angered Mathias.
The head was severed. He had been executed. Simon reached around the gaping hole, and found a palm-sized crucifix. The Cross was covered in old blood, and where the image of Jesus should have been, were Latin words. The words were scratched in, leaving several small indents throughout, making various letters unreadable. The red headed Belmont, felt a sense of aura and a small surge throughout various parts of his body. The sensation was something Simon had never experienced.
"Please let me out.." Moaned a soft voice in the distance, coming from the left corridor.
"Let me out, I've done no wrong!" screamed a male voice from the opposite direction.
Screams and moans were now coming from all directions. Several of the prison's cells bars were rattling, shaking off the heavy rust.
Simon tucked away the cross in his wool pouch, and uncurled his leather whip, and slashed it against the ground.
Several bats flew out into the long western corridor, as if they feared for their own lives.
The young Belmont noticed that several of the corpses start to move and tremble, as if being reanimated. A few of the undead inmates broke out of their cells, and a few broke out of the concrete floor. The impaled corpses ripped their bodies off of their pole imprisonments, and started to crawl on the ground. The various pools of blood on the ground started to form small shapes, and produced tiny men-like creatures that immediately started to hop around the room, as if in search for something. The priest next to Simon started to move and tried to put itself in an upright position despite the fact that it was lacking a head.
Simon readied himself, and immediately whipped the nearest corpse to his right. The inmate exploded into blood and bones, staining the walls with it's reddish liquid. The corpse was not easily dispatched of though, as it's large intestine coiled around Simon's right ankle, and started to strengthen its grip. The Belmont reached for his Rapier but was interrupted as a nearby corpse held his hand and tightened its grip. Simon managed to escape their grasp, and whipped the crawling bodies, which exploded on impact.
Simon figured that he would soon be overwhelmed by the hoards of the undead, and ran towards the door in the western corridor, killing a few hanged men that were dangling from the ceiling. After opening the door, Simon found himself in the prison cellar, where a few cadavers were walking around aimlessly, though they appeared harmless. One of the skeletons was kicking around it's own head.
The room was small, and in each corner were neatly placed skulls, stacked to the ceiling. Each skull had been polished and handled with care, as if they had been taken care of recently, though the prison looked centuries old. There was an old wooden desk on the wall opposite of Simon, with a melted candlestick covered in cobwebs. The only light coming from the room were two ornamental candles on opposite ends of the room.
'I wonder if there is a caretaker here?' Simon looked around the room. He sensed something different about this room with a feeling of a certain type of aura. Seeing nothing to take into consideration, Simon turned around and headed for the exit, only to be stopped by a nostalgic voice of a man behind him.
"Welcome, Son of Belmont."
Simon turned around to face the man. The man was old, about centuries old in fact. His hands and fingers were as frail as the candlestick that was now lit, and as skinny as the cadavers pacing the room.
"I have been expecting a Belmont, thou does not disappoint," said the old man, his raspy voice barely loud enough to be heard by Simon.
Simon walked closer to the old man to get a better view of his face, for it seemed to be swallowed by the shadows. His face was just as thin as the rest, with a long white beard and long grayish-white hair. The young Belmont wondered how he had any hair at all, given his age and the rest of his skeletal appearance. Perhaps the castle's influence is what kept him alive all these years.
"Who art thou, Old One?" Simon asked the elderly man.
"I am what breathes life into this prison. Does thou not have sensed it? The life of it? The beauty of it? The sacrificial damnation of it?" the old man had a determined glance in his gray eyes.
"What folly do you speak of Old One? This eternal damnation is the very embodiment of evil itself. It's inhumane! These restless souls, thou art nothing more than a manipulator of the undead, so why preach beauty?" Simon replied to the old man, with a sense of anger in his words.
"Fool! What dost' thou think brought you to this charnel house? That's right, the grandeurs of it. Thou couldst' have easily turned back, but alas, you did not, and Ere now the inhumane statute of your speech purged the gentle weal." The old man looked Simon over. He stood up and slowly walked around the desk and over to where Simon had been standing. He locked the rusted metal door and turned to face the Belmont.
"I'm afraid I can't let you leave, Simon." He looked at Simon, waiting for any sudden reactions of anger.
Simon proceeded by uncurling his leathery weapon, and slashed it hard against the ground. The whip made a large indent in the concrete floor. The Belmont then readied himself.
"Behold my true form.and despair.!" with those words said, the old man's skin tore open starting from his cranium, and eventually down to his feet. A blinding light caused Simon to shield his eyes. The light quickly vanished, and in the old man's place stood a dark demonic figure, with enormous black wings sprouting from its back. The large demon lunged at Simon, who quickly dodged out of harm's way. Simon made a vertical slash on the back of the demonic creature, causing parts of the flesh to burn away. The burned pieces of flesh fell to the ground and the creatures spine was now visible.
The Demon roared in considerable pain, and lunged at Simon again in desperation. The agile Belmont dodged the second attack but the creature's sharp claws struck his left shoulder. The crimson colored blood dripped onto the floor, and Simon reached over to his shoulder with his other hand and put pressure on the wound. The wound was deep, and most of the shoulder's muscle tissue was torn. Simon gazed over at his own blood that had trickled down to his ankles. The demonic being was feeling the pain of its own, as the large wound was bleeding heavily. Though the spine was exposed, the creature knew that it would eventually heal, so it took the moment's opportunity and spread it's dark wings, readying itself for another attack.
Simon, feeling nauseous, picked up his leather whip and struggled to regain his balance. The creature lunged and sent the injured Belmont flying into the wall, and into the adjacent chamber. Simon stood up and wiped the blood away from his mouth, and placed the whip once again in hand, and as creature struck once more, whipped at the creatures face, which immediately started to burn and wither away, revealing the creature's cranium. The hellish creature would not go down so easily, and crawled over to where Simon was.
The Belmont tightened his grip on the whip, and struck with all of his might at the creature's exposed skull, which exploded while the blood spurted out of its headless neck.
Simon, knowing this battle was over, dropped his whip, and fell to the floor, and held a firmly placed hand on his large wound. The pain was excruciating, and blood continued to pour out of the large indenture. He sat there, knowing that there was nothing that he could do. It was over.Simon realized that he was drawing his last breaths; he would never reach the count in this condition. Dracula had won. The massive amount of blood loss had drained him, and was already turning pale. Simon Belmont closed his eyes, and awaited his fate.
Sorry for the really late update, but there was nothing to really motivate me with this story, seeing as how no one really reviews it. If you want to see faster updates, please review so I can know that someone out there is enjoying it. Next chapter will hopefully be done soon.
Castlevania Chronicles
Simon
Chapter three: Prelude to the Dark Abyss
Two lifeless bodies slumped to the ground, heads severed, splattering crimson blood on the walls, ceilings, and floor. Simon looked around the long corridor, the statues of forgotten warriors, leering over him, sensing anguish. The young Belmont then climbed two sets of stairs, and came upon a very large wooden door. The wooden door was stained with fresh blood, as if the door itself was bleeding. Simon cautiously pushed the door with his shoulder, for it was extremely heavy. The door swung open as if inviting its guest.
The chamber that lied beyond was quite different from the chambers Simon had gotten used to seeing. There were no paintings; in its place were bleeding skulls and maggot infested walls. The age-old statues and royal grandeurs were no longer present. In their place where maimed bodies, hanged or impaled, with several grand guillotines spread throughout the large corridors. The young Belmont quickly realized that this was no royal chamber. It was a prison.
Haunted Prison of the Forgotten Ones
Simon Belmont walked over to one of the nearby guillotines, having caught a glimpse of a small shining object. There was a body there, but not of a prison inmate, but of a catholic priest. Though having a strong belief in God like his ancestors before him, Simon did not consider himself highly religious. When Catholicism had spread throughout Rome and several small western European nations, Romania had yet to reach its influence due to Mathias' reign. As the Crusades raged in the eastern hemisphere, Transylvania eventually became a symbol to many. The Catholic Church forced and spread its beliefs on the people. The Church spread many laws throughout various countries, which angered Mathias.
The head was severed. He had been executed. Simon reached around the gaping hole, and found a palm-sized crucifix. The Cross was covered in old blood, and where the image of Jesus should have been, were Latin words. The words were scratched in, leaving several small indents throughout, making various letters unreadable. The red headed Belmont, felt a sense of aura and a small surge throughout various parts of his body. The sensation was something Simon had never experienced.
"Please let me out.." Moaned a soft voice in the distance, coming from the left corridor.
"Let me out, I've done no wrong!" screamed a male voice from the opposite direction.
Screams and moans were now coming from all directions. Several of the prison's cells bars were rattling, shaking off the heavy rust.
Simon tucked away the cross in his wool pouch, and uncurled his leather whip, and slashed it against the ground.
Several bats flew out into the long western corridor, as if they feared for their own lives.
The young Belmont noticed that several of the corpses start to move and tremble, as if being reanimated. A few of the undead inmates broke out of their cells, and a few broke out of the concrete floor. The impaled corpses ripped their bodies off of their pole imprisonments, and started to crawl on the ground. The various pools of blood on the ground started to form small shapes, and produced tiny men-like creatures that immediately started to hop around the room, as if in search for something. The priest next to Simon started to move and tried to put itself in an upright position despite the fact that it was lacking a head.
Simon readied himself, and immediately whipped the nearest corpse to his right. The inmate exploded into blood and bones, staining the walls with it's reddish liquid. The corpse was not easily dispatched of though, as it's large intestine coiled around Simon's right ankle, and started to strengthen its grip. The Belmont reached for his Rapier but was interrupted as a nearby corpse held his hand and tightened its grip. Simon managed to escape their grasp, and whipped the crawling bodies, which exploded on impact.
Simon figured that he would soon be overwhelmed by the hoards of the undead, and ran towards the door in the western corridor, killing a few hanged men that were dangling from the ceiling. After opening the door, Simon found himself in the prison cellar, where a few cadavers were walking around aimlessly, though they appeared harmless. One of the skeletons was kicking around it's own head.
The room was small, and in each corner were neatly placed skulls, stacked to the ceiling. Each skull had been polished and handled with care, as if they had been taken care of recently, though the prison looked centuries old. There was an old wooden desk on the wall opposite of Simon, with a melted candlestick covered in cobwebs. The only light coming from the room were two ornamental candles on opposite ends of the room.
'I wonder if there is a caretaker here?' Simon looked around the room. He sensed something different about this room with a feeling of a certain type of aura. Seeing nothing to take into consideration, Simon turned around and headed for the exit, only to be stopped by a nostalgic voice of a man behind him.
"Welcome, Son of Belmont."
Simon turned around to face the man. The man was old, about centuries old in fact. His hands and fingers were as frail as the candlestick that was now lit, and as skinny as the cadavers pacing the room.
"I have been expecting a Belmont, thou does not disappoint," said the old man, his raspy voice barely loud enough to be heard by Simon.
Simon walked closer to the old man to get a better view of his face, for it seemed to be swallowed by the shadows. His face was just as thin as the rest, with a long white beard and long grayish-white hair. The young Belmont wondered how he had any hair at all, given his age and the rest of his skeletal appearance. Perhaps the castle's influence is what kept him alive all these years.
"Who art thou, Old One?" Simon asked the elderly man.
"I am what breathes life into this prison. Does thou not have sensed it? The life of it? The beauty of it? The sacrificial damnation of it?" the old man had a determined glance in his gray eyes.
"What folly do you speak of Old One? This eternal damnation is the very embodiment of evil itself. It's inhumane! These restless souls, thou art nothing more than a manipulator of the undead, so why preach beauty?" Simon replied to the old man, with a sense of anger in his words.
"Fool! What dost' thou think brought you to this charnel house? That's right, the grandeurs of it. Thou couldst' have easily turned back, but alas, you did not, and Ere now the inhumane statute of your speech purged the gentle weal." The old man looked Simon over. He stood up and slowly walked around the desk and over to where Simon had been standing. He locked the rusted metal door and turned to face the Belmont.
"I'm afraid I can't let you leave, Simon." He looked at Simon, waiting for any sudden reactions of anger.
Simon proceeded by uncurling his leathery weapon, and slashed it hard against the ground. The whip made a large indent in the concrete floor. The Belmont then readied himself.
"Behold my true form.and despair.!" with those words said, the old man's skin tore open starting from his cranium, and eventually down to his feet. A blinding light caused Simon to shield his eyes. The light quickly vanished, and in the old man's place stood a dark demonic figure, with enormous black wings sprouting from its back. The large demon lunged at Simon, who quickly dodged out of harm's way. Simon made a vertical slash on the back of the demonic creature, causing parts of the flesh to burn away. The burned pieces of flesh fell to the ground and the creatures spine was now visible.
The Demon roared in considerable pain, and lunged at Simon again in desperation. The agile Belmont dodged the second attack but the creature's sharp claws struck his left shoulder. The crimson colored blood dripped onto the floor, and Simon reached over to his shoulder with his other hand and put pressure on the wound. The wound was deep, and most of the shoulder's muscle tissue was torn. Simon gazed over at his own blood that had trickled down to his ankles. The demonic being was feeling the pain of its own, as the large wound was bleeding heavily. Though the spine was exposed, the creature knew that it would eventually heal, so it took the moment's opportunity and spread it's dark wings, readying itself for another attack.
Simon, feeling nauseous, picked up his leather whip and struggled to regain his balance. The creature lunged and sent the injured Belmont flying into the wall, and into the adjacent chamber. Simon stood up and wiped the blood away from his mouth, and placed the whip once again in hand, and as creature struck once more, whipped at the creatures face, which immediately started to burn and wither away, revealing the creature's cranium. The hellish creature would not go down so easily, and crawled over to where Simon was.
The Belmont tightened his grip on the whip, and struck with all of his might at the creature's exposed skull, which exploded while the blood spurted out of its headless neck.
Simon, knowing this battle was over, dropped his whip, and fell to the floor, and held a firmly placed hand on his large wound. The pain was excruciating, and blood continued to pour out of the large indenture. He sat there, knowing that there was nothing that he could do. It was over.Simon realized that he was drawing his last breaths; he would never reach the count in this condition. Dracula had won. The massive amount of blood loss had drained him, and was already turning pale. Simon Belmont closed his eyes, and awaited his fate.
Sorry for the really late update, but there was nothing to really motivate me with this story, seeing as how no one really reviews it. If you want to see faster updates, please review so I can know that someone out there is enjoying it. Next chapter will hopefully be done soon.