Forever Knight is owned by Sony/Tristar.
Wizardmon and the the world of Digimon belong to Bandai, Fox, Toei, and Saban Enterprises. (And no, I'm not a fan of the series--though imho it beats Pokémon for a story premise.)
==============================================
Knight of the Wizardmon
by Kyer en Ysh May 2000
Vampire class, Viral caste digimon
==============================================
He was brought across in 1228
Preyed on humans for their blood.
Now, he wants to be mortal again..
To repay society for his sins.
To emerge from his world of darkness.
From his endless, forever...knight.
~~~o~~~
Di Di Di ...
Digimon Digimon
Di Di Di...
Digimon Digimon
Di Di Di...
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Change.. into digital champions.. to save the Digital-- World.
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digivolve into Champions.
Digivolve into Ultimate.
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digimon!
................
Part One: Fall From The Sky
It was late and Nicholas was flying aimlessly over the city landscape in a sullen mood, intent on putting as much distance between himself and his master as he could until the latter had cooled down. As usual, Lacroix had decided to take him to task for being such a---as the 2000-year old vampire had so delicately put it---"disgrace to my bloodline and a blight on natural evolution's pristine design". It was at times like this that the younger's (Nicholas being a mere 800 years) urge to 'move on' to a different locale took on greater appeal; however, he knew that any respite would be short-lived. As much as Lucien Lacroix, survivor of Mt. Vesuvius' eruption and Roman General extraordinaire might bemoan his son's peccadilloes, Nicholas had been decided upon as his favorite possession---and Lacroix was not one to let go of what he considered his and his alone. Experience told him that before many years would pass by, the dictatorial ancient would hunt him down and the psychological battle for possession of Nicholas' very being would resume.
The dysfunctional pair's aggrievement with each other was an old fight---well over a century-old in fact. Everything had been fine between them until Nicholas had decided that being a vampire was...shall we say...no longer his cup of tea. To put it simply, he was tired of living off of blood, tired of killing, and tired of wondering each time a wooden stake got shoved into his breast if this was the night he was going to end up with a permanent address in Hell's Country due to his numerous sins.
For Nicholas was something of a rare bird among the race of humanoid bloodsuckers: not only did he have a healthy conscience---he actively fretted over it like a horticulturist over a prized bonzai. Refused to drink anything but animal blood and kept socializing with others of his kind to a bare minimum lest he be tempted back into drinking from humans.
Few people held so close a relationship with their sense of guilt as did former Chevalier de croisé Nicholas de Brabant.
This tendency to stray from the status quo might not have been a problem to any but Lacroix and the more paranoid of the vampire elite, but for Nicholas' attempts to take his disenchantment with the night-tide lifestyle one step further: he would occasionally pull in the odd mortal to aid him in his quest to find a cure for his vampirism. To the vampire Community, this was a major problem since humans as a whole no longer believed in the existence of the nosferatu, and the vampires were rather keen on keeping it that way. They even graced their rules of secrecy with an important-sounding term: the Code. To keep those laws were powerful vampire 'policemen' given the authority to make sure that those rules were adhered to. Woe to the unfortunate vampire who fell under the eye of the Enforcers, for the penalty was often death to offenders.
Nicholas had just reached the outskirts of Toronto when---out of nowhere---something collided with his back, sending him toppling downward from the unexpected shock. There was the fleeting impression of a body of dark purple, beige and red with blonde hair hurtling on past. Surely LaCroix had not caught up with him already?! Nicholas thought wildly as he tumbled in mid air.
But it was not the familiar form of an enraged vampire that Nicholas saw as he brought his descent under control. Astonished eyes of deep blue tracked the balled figure as it continued its head-long rush straight for the ground.
The one-time crusader knight's heart gave a single loud thump within his chest. Whoever had struck him, if his free fall wasn't stopped soon...
Quickly, he shot downward after the figure. Now he could see that the small missle was indeed a person wrapped up in a fetal position, his cloak billowing outward like a comet trail. Straining himself to the utmost, De Brabant managed to catch the unconscious form just before it smashed into the unforgiving concrete and asphalt. Carefully, he set his catch down as he furtively checked the surrounding area for any mortal witnesses. Fortune smiled: there were none in the near vicinity to have spied his supernatural act.
Kneeling, the vampire laid the other flat, shrugging off his jacket to place under the mass of dark blonde hair so similar to his own except for its straightness. Wished he'd been carrying his cellphone on him instead of leaving it in his car so he could call for medical help while remaining anonymous, but what was, was. If things got awkward, he could always hypnotize the ambulance personnel into forgetting he had even been there.
The small body he'd held shivered slightly and moaned aloud as his hand checked for a pulse, both child-like arms still clutching a wide-brimmed and pointed hat to its head as if it was terrified of losing the odd headgear or of being struck. Crescent-shaped tags attached to zippers on the other's beige.. (flightsuit?)..nicked at the vampire's palms as he felt for any broken bones.
Lord, so thin!--Nicholas thought as he felt the skeletal arms under the sleeves, mindful of yet more of the moon symbols that graced soft gloves. Had the kid nobody to feed him?
Questions washed over the vampire.
Where had this *child * fallen from? Child---for Nick judged him to be no more than a tad over 3 1/2 feet tall--maybe. And why was he dressed so strangely in what looked like a five-year old's attempt to play witch or magician? Indeed, the boy appeared as if he had readied himself for Halloween by donning a mystical cape and pointed hat, yet that holiday was months off yet.
"This reminds me of a teaser for the twilight zone," Nick mumbled uneasily under his breath as he continued his inspection.
A short rust-red vest went over the flightsuit, held close by two horizontal straps with silver buttons. Unlike everything else, it looked half-way normal. Not that the jumpsuit looked terribly abnormal considering today's fashions. Nick frowned. Then again, one of the zippers running across the knees looked a bit like grinning mouth if you took into account the slanted pair of patches sewn above it. Darn thing looked like it was leering at him. And then there was the cut-off addition to the cape that encircled the wearer and covered him from shoulders to just below the eyes so that the entire bottom half of the face was concealed just as the hat covered a lot from the eyes up. Not only did it put the vampire in mind of a bandit's bandana in the American Old West, but the purplish material's clasp was skull shaped---a miniature twin to the larger one gracing the hat's black band. Nick didn't much care for the hat's skull. He found the red dots within the black sockets rather unnerving as they seemed to follow the observer's every movement even though they were obviously sewn to the fabric.
This kid must really love optical illusions and the whole mystic theme park of 'weird wear.'
Taken as a whole, the entire ensemble was an uneasy cross between comical and sinister as if the wearer wasn't sure whether he'd decided to play villian or amiable hero.
Almost as disconcerting as the odd clothes was the scent the kid was exuding. The vampire's sensitive nostrils twitched. It was like nothing he could put a name to---but was not unpleasant by any means. The closest he could categorize it was the scent of the wind before a thunderstorm. Humans did not smell like that---they smelled of the things of the earth and not of the sky. Vampire were similar. A cologne, perhaps?
Without thinking about why, Nicholas reached to pull down the cowl. Before his fingers could touch it, however, the boy's head fell to one side---revealing an unexpected feature.
"Mon Dieu!"
Nick knew with one part of his mind that he had vamped out: the tips of descended fangs were pricking his lower lip, and his vision had switched to amber; however, the other part was too busy assimulating the child's appearance to care about fixing his own.
Some of the dirty-blonde hair had moved out of the way, revealing more grayish-blue skin and elfish ears that looked way too natural to be fake. He ran one finger tentatively over the deer-like contour. Having spent time on and off throughout the centuries in theatrical endeavors, De Brabant knew a prosthetic when he felt one---and this wasn't made of foam rubber. Besides...it felt warm to his touch.
Just who--or what!--De Brabant wondered, had he caught?
He knew it was just his mind playing tricks, but Nicholas could almost swear the skull decoration afixed to the hat's band was grinning with enjoyment at his shocked expression.
As he continued to stare dumbly at the improbable ear, a primitive staff fell from above and almost conked him on the head before landing unscathed upon the ground. Nicholas picked it up, feeling a slight tingle as he did so. He put it down to his imagination which was currently having a wild time as it was.
The base was constructed from a plain, crooked, branch of wood. The top, adorned with some sort of flaming egg-symbol. It was of yellowish cloth except for a dark patch sewn on one side. All in all, the primitive-looking implement vaguely reminded De Brabant of something a North American shaman might have used in his rituals.
Kind of.
Moaning, the alien suddenly grasped the staff in a firm left grip, pulling it towards itself. Large, slanted eyes opened wide in horror, revealing unfocused irises of medium jade.
"Nooo! Thunder Ba--!" it gasped out in a deep and slightly raspy voice.
Nick started when a yellow spark of light appeared to grow in the kid's right glove.
What the heck?!
But then the spark vanished in the same moment as the voice was cut off by a fierce coughing spell. Must have been another optical illusion, the vampire decided, then noticed the green eyes were squinting up at him.
"Where.. am I? Who?..." the being asked softly in an oddly accented English that Nicholas could not place at all---and he had been to a lot of places. Its deep tone held a wealth of weariness to it, as if the owner wasn't quite sure if he was awake or not. The alien tried to raise itself up, but fell back with a groan, eyes closing again.
"Your hurt." Nick muttered around his still dropped fangs, his brain yet trying to process what he was seeing; almost wishing his father was here, for the ancient Roman was over twice the age of his Belgium son and had traveled about extensively before Nicholas had even been born to his mortal parents. Maybe Lacroix knew something of this being's origin or had encountered its kind before?
A short, humorless laugh of incredulity came from beneath the cowl as the creature answered De Brabant's question in a bewildered tone, "Hurt? I'm not..deleted?" Then it went limp.
Nicholas blinked in momentary incomprehension. Generally, people who narrowly escaped death used just that exact word or maybe 'killed'. Robots, gangsters and aliens in the media tended to say 'terminated' or 'exterminated'.
But... 'deleted'?
What kind of description was that for death? Sounded like something a computer geek would say. Nicholas flashed to that comic strip in the newspaper that was populated by birds. One of the characters was a computer 'wizard'. A smile came to the vampire's lips as he compared that paper and ink 'wizard' with the boy at his feet. Perhaps this too was a 'computer wizard'. An alien one who talked in digital terms.
The unconscious and slightly high-pitched chuckle he emitted startled De Brabant back into the real world.
"Get a grip, Nick," he told himself, using the inflections his doctor friend would have used if she'd been here.
But Dr. Natalie Lambert, coroner to the city of Toronto, was attending a lecture on pathology tonight. He couldn't show this to her until tommorrow nor could he stay on the street much longer and chance someone's noticing them.
And the thought of taking the alien to the Raven for his immortal sister, Janette, to watch over sent an ice chill down his spin. He wasn't sure just how his fellow bloodsuckers would react to an alien in their midst. Like as not they would simply kill it, and Nicholas didn't like that thought at all, growling protectively over the alien at nebulous enemies before he realized what he was doing. The growl became a goan as he rubbed his face in an effort to concentrate. What had just happened? Besides letting his Beast come to the fore without thought to any passerbys?
In a public area was not a safe place to 'lose it', he chastised himself. Get out of here!
Not knowing what else to do--even vampires didn't have alien's dropping on them everyday so he couldn't blame Lacroix for neglecting to teach him about this situation---Nicholas cradled the smaller figure to his chest and flew towards his loft in the city's warehous district.
_______________________________
Wizardmon and the the world of Digimon belong to Bandai, Fox, Toei, and Saban Enterprises. (And no, I'm not a fan of the series--though imho it beats Pokémon for a story premise.)
==============================================
Knight of the Wizardmon
by Kyer en Ysh May 2000
Vampire class, Viral caste digimon
==============================================
He was brought across in 1228
Preyed on humans for their blood.
Now, he wants to be mortal again..
To repay society for his sins.
To emerge from his world of darkness.
From his endless, forever...knight.
~~~o~~~
Di Di Di ...
Digimon Digimon
Di Di Di...
Digimon Digimon
Di Di Di...
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Change.. into digital champions.. to save the Digital-- World.
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digivolve into Champions.
Digivolve into Ultimate.
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digimon, Digital monsters, Digimon are the champions!
Digimon!
................
Part One: Fall From The Sky
It was late and Nicholas was flying aimlessly over the city landscape in a sullen mood, intent on putting as much distance between himself and his master as he could until the latter had cooled down. As usual, Lacroix had decided to take him to task for being such a---as the 2000-year old vampire had so delicately put it---"disgrace to my bloodline and a blight on natural evolution's pristine design". It was at times like this that the younger's (Nicholas being a mere 800 years) urge to 'move on' to a different locale took on greater appeal; however, he knew that any respite would be short-lived. As much as Lucien Lacroix, survivor of Mt. Vesuvius' eruption and Roman General extraordinaire might bemoan his son's peccadilloes, Nicholas had been decided upon as his favorite possession---and Lacroix was not one to let go of what he considered his and his alone. Experience told him that before many years would pass by, the dictatorial ancient would hunt him down and the psychological battle for possession of Nicholas' very being would resume.
The dysfunctional pair's aggrievement with each other was an old fight---well over a century-old in fact. Everything had been fine between them until Nicholas had decided that being a vampire was...shall we say...no longer his cup of tea. To put it simply, he was tired of living off of blood, tired of killing, and tired of wondering each time a wooden stake got shoved into his breast if this was the night he was going to end up with a permanent address in Hell's Country due to his numerous sins.
For Nicholas was something of a rare bird among the race of humanoid bloodsuckers: not only did he have a healthy conscience---he actively fretted over it like a horticulturist over a prized bonzai. Refused to drink anything but animal blood and kept socializing with others of his kind to a bare minimum lest he be tempted back into drinking from humans.
Few people held so close a relationship with their sense of guilt as did former Chevalier de croisé Nicholas de Brabant.
This tendency to stray from the status quo might not have been a problem to any but Lacroix and the more paranoid of the vampire elite, but for Nicholas' attempts to take his disenchantment with the night-tide lifestyle one step further: he would occasionally pull in the odd mortal to aid him in his quest to find a cure for his vampirism. To the vampire Community, this was a major problem since humans as a whole no longer believed in the existence of the nosferatu, and the vampires were rather keen on keeping it that way. They even graced their rules of secrecy with an important-sounding term: the Code. To keep those laws were powerful vampire 'policemen' given the authority to make sure that those rules were adhered to. Woe to the unfortunate vampire who fell under the eye of the Enforcers, for the penalty was often death to offenders.
Nicholas had just reached the outskirts of Toronto when---out of nowhere---something collided with his back, sending him toppling downward from the unexpected shock. There was the fleeting impression of a body of dark purple, beige and red with blonde hair hurtling on past. Surely LaCroix had not caught up with him already?! Nicholas thought wildly as he tumbled in mid air.
But it was not the familiar form of an enraged vampire that Nicholas saw as he brought his descent under control. Astonished eyes of deep blue tracked the balled figure as it continued its head-long rush straight for the ground.
The one-time crusader knight's heart gave a single loud thump within his chest. Whoever had struck him, if his free fall wasn't stopped soon...
Quickly, he shot downward after the figure. Now he could see that the small missle was indeed a person wrapped up in a fetal position, his cloak billowing outward like a comet trail. Straining himself to the utmost, De Brabant managed to catch the unconscious form just before it smashed into the unforgiving concrete and asphalt. Carefully, he set his catch down as he furtively checked the surrounding area for any mortal witnesses. Fortune smiled: there were none in the near vicinity to have spied his supernatural act.
Kneeling, the vampire laid the other flat, shrugging off his jacket to place under the mass of dark blonde hair so similar to his own except for its straightness. Wished he'd been carrying his cellphone on him instead of leaving it in his car so he could call for medical help while remaining anonymous, but what was, was. If things got awkward, he could always hypnotize the ambulance personnel into forgetting he had even been there.
The small body he'd held shivered slightly and moaned aloud as his hand checked for a pulse, both child-like arms still clutching a wide-brimmed and pointed hat to its head as if it was terrified of losing the odd headgear or of being struck. Crescent-shaped tags attached to zippers on the other's beige.. (flightsuit?)..nicked at the vampire's palms as he felt for any broken bones.
Lord, so thin!--Nicholas thought as he felt the skeletal arms under the sleeves, mindful of yet more of the moon symbols that graced soft gloves. Had the kid nobody to feed him?
Questions washed over the vampire.
Where had this *child * fallen from? Child---for Nick judged him to be no more than a tad over 3 1/2 feet tall--maybe. And why was he dressed so strangely in what looked like a five-year old's attempt to play witch or magician? Indeed, the boy appeared as if he had readied himself for Halloween by donning a mystical cape and pointed hat, yet that holiday was months off yet.
"This reminds me of a teaser for the twilight zone," Nick mumbled uneasily under his breath as he continued his inspection.
A short rust-red vest went over the flightsuit, held close by two horizontal straps with silver buttons. Unlike everything else, it looked half-way normal. Not that the jumpsuit looked terribly abnormal considering today's fashions. Nick frowned. Then again, one of the zippers running across the knees looked a bit like grinning mouth if you took into account the slanted pair of patches sewn above it. Darn thing looked like it was leering at him. And then there was the cut-off addition to the cape that encircled the wearer and covered him from shoulders to just below the eyes so that the entire bottom half of the face was concealed just as the hat covered a lot from the eyes up. Not only did it put the vampire in mind of a bandit's bandana in the American Old West, but the purplish material's clasp was skull shaped---a miniature twin to the larger one gracing the hat's black band. Nick didn't much care for the hat's skull. He found the red dots within the black sockets rather unnerving as they seemed to follow the observer's every movement even though they were obviously sewn to the fabric.
This kid must really love optical illusions and the whole mystic theme park of 'weird wear.'
Taken as a whole, the entire ensemble was an uneasy cross between comical and sinister as if the wearer wasn't sure whether he'd decided to play villian or amiable hero.
Almost as disconcerting as the odd clothes was the scent the kid was exuding. The vampire's sensitive nostrils twitched. It was like nothing he could put a name to---but was not unpleasant by any means. The closest he could categorize it was the scent of the wind before a thunderstorm. Humans did not smell like that---they smelled of the things of the earth and not of the sky. Vampire were similar. A cologne, perhaps?
Without thinking about why, Nicholas reached to pull down the cowl. Before his fingers could touch it, however, the boy's head fell to one side---revealing an unexpected feature.
"Mon Dieu!"
Nick knew with one part of his mind that he had vamped out: the tips of descended fangs were pricking his lower lip, and his vision had switched to amber; however, the other part was too busy assimulating the child's appearance to care about fixing his own.
Some of the dirty-blonde hair had moved out of the way, revealing more grayish-blue skin and elfish ears that looked way too natural to be fake. He ran one finger tentatively over the deer-like contour. Having spent time on and off throughout the centuries in theatrical endeavors, De Brabant knew a prosthetic when he felt one---and this wasn't made of foam rubber. Besides...it felt warm to his touch.
Just who--or what!--De Brabant wondered, had he caught?
He knew it was just his mind playing tricks, but Nicholas could almost swear the skull decoration afixed to the hat's band was grinning with enjoyment at his shocked expression.
As he continued to stare dumbly at the improbable ear, a primitive staff fell from above and almost conked him on the head before landing unscathed upon the ground. Nicholas picked it up, feeling a slight tingle as he did so. He put it down to his imagination which was currently having a wild time as it was.
The base was constructed from a plain, crooked, branch of wood. The top, adorned with some sort of flaming egg-symbol. It was of yellowish cloth except for a dark patch sewn on one side. All in all, the primitive-looking implement vaguely reminded De Brabant of something a North American shaman might have used in his rituals.
Kind of.
Moaning, the alien suddenly grasped the staff in a firm left grip, pulling it towards itself. Large, slanted eyes opened wide in horror, revealing unfocused irises of medium jade.
"Nooo! Thunder Ba--!" it gasped out in a deep and slightly raspy voice.
Nick started when a yellow spark of light appeared to grow in the kid's right glove.
What the heck?!
But then the spark vanished in the same moment as the voice was cut off by a fierce coughing spell. Must have been another optical illusion, the vampire decided, then noticed the green eyes were squinting up at him.
"Where.. am I? Who?..." the being asked softly in an oddly accented English that Nicholas could not place at all---and he had been to a lot of places. Its deep tone held a wealth of weariness to it, as if the owner wasn't quite sure if he was awake or not. The alien tried to raise itself up, but fell back with a groan, eyes closing again.
"Your hurt." Nick muttered around his still dropped fangs, his brain yet trying to process what he was seeing; almost wishing his father was here, for the ancient Roman was over twice the age of his Belgium son and had traveled about extensively before Nicholas had even been born to his mortal parents. Maybe Lacroix knew something of this being's origin or had encountered its kind before?
A short, humorless laugh of incredulity came from beneath the cowl as the creature answered De Brabant's question in a bewildered tone, "Hurt? I'm not..deleted?" Then it went limp.
Nicholas blinked in momentary incomprehension. Generally, people who narrowly escaped death used just that exact word or maybe 'killed'. Robots, gangsters and aliens in the media tended to say 'terminated' or 'exterminated'.
But... 'deleted'?
What kind of description was that for death? Sounded like something a computer geek would say. Nicholas flashed to that comic strip in the newspaper that was populated by birds. One of the characters was a computer 'wizard'. A smile came to the vampire's lips as he compared that paper and ink 'wizard' with the boy at his feet. Perhaps this too was a 'computer wizard'. An alien one who talked in digital terms.
The unconscious and slightly high-pitched chuckle he emitted startled De Brabant back into the real world.
"Get a grip, Nick," he told himself, using the inflections his doctor friend would have used if she'd been here.
But Dr. Natalie Lambert, coroner to the city of Toronto, was attending a lecture on pathology tonight. He couldn't show this to her until tommorrow nor could he stay on the street much longer and chance someone's noticing them.
And the thought of taking the alien to the Raven for his immortal sister, Janette, to watch over sent an ice chill down his spin. He wasn't sure just how his fellow bloodsuckers would react to an alien in their midst. Like as not they would simply kill it, and Nicholas didn't like that thought at all, growling protectively over the alien at nebulous enemies before he realized what he was doing. The growl became a goan as he rubbed his face in an effort to concentrate. What had just happened? Besides letting his Beast come to the fore without thought to any passerbys?
In a public area was not a safe place to 'lose it', he chastised himself. Get out of here!
Not knowing what else to do--even vampires didn't have alien's dropping on them everyday so he couldn't blame Lacroix for neglecting to teach him about this situation---Nicholas cradled the smaller figure to his chest and flew towards his loft in the city's warehous district.
_______________________________