R, just to be safe.
Contains heavy amounts of
violence, blood, heads being chopped off, etc. If you are squeamish,
pregnant, nursing, etc. then don't read this stuff.
Tells the story
of DarkWraith, a custom character I've created for the Titans universe,
and slightly based off of Raziel from Soul Reaver, although there are
MANY differences between them. The closest they could be are cousins.
I've made DarkWraith of my own mind, and the "ethereal" and "material"
stuff I've gotten from D&D, which was shamelessly ripped for Soul
Reaver without credit. D&D "concepts" such as the idea of planar
existance, are open-source as far as I know.
Hopefully now I won't get any idiots reviewing and saying that DarkWraith is just a rip of Raziel.
Chapter 1
"BURN IN HELL, you worthless bitch"
With
a flick of my wrists I beheaded the shameless succubus and proceeded to
do the same to her friends as well. I flew into a blinding rage and
darted around, effortlessly dispatching of my foes before they could
react to my advances. Just to satisfy my sadistic need for fun, I
charged up a soul bomb and let it loose, ripping apart the carcasses of
any remaining foes caught in its blast. I then surveyed the carnage
around me, drinking in the fleeting souls of my enemies while doing so.
Reacting
on instinct, I immediately etherealized in order to avoid a poison dart
aimed at my neck. I swerved around to confront my attacker, but it
seems they vanished after seeing that their ambush failed. Using my
mental senses, I perceived no more threats, and faded back into the
material realm. Handy tricks I had, being able to turn ethereal and
material at will. It wasn't easy and it drained me a bit when doing so,
but feeding on the souls of my victims was more then enough to satiate
my unholy hunger for more. More souls, more victims, more enemies, more
death, more blood, more killing. And the circle would continue until I
eradicated EVERY last one of the damn vermin from this planet.
I went over to one of the succubi and ripped what little scraps of bloodless cloth were left on her body. While wiping the tainted blood off of my WraithBlade, I once again thanked my genetic immunity to the vile poison and disease that was so common among this filth. Of course, that was only one of the more helpful benefits my heritage provided me. Surely such tainted blood had made many adventurers suffer in agony while their organs exploded from the inside out. What vile creatures they were indeed, and I would do anything to stop their leader. If only I could FIND the leader.
Glancing around at the carnage around me, I released my WraithBlade's hold on reality, and allowed its natural corporeal form to emerge. What a symbiotic relationship we had. Weapons. Was I its weapon, or was it my weapon? It was almost as if it had a mind of its own. Easy to care for, it seemed nothing could withstand its power. As if to test my might, I flew into a fit of madness and started slicing apart the corpses around me. The blade went cleanly through each time. Bone, muscle, blood, organ. There didn't seem to be anything that it would not penetrate. I looked up and spied a tower which the vermin had used to spot me and prepare for the ambush. Without much thought, I leaped into the air and cut the tower cleanly down the middle. As the tower collapsed around me, I reflected on the ambush. I had been foolish for not traveling in ethereal form. Doing so has the distinct disadvantage of not allowing me to manipulate anything in the material realm, what you would call reality. I rather enjoyed traipsing about the ethereal realm, ruthlessly slaughtering any of the wandering spirit-scavengers I'd find, and consuming THEIR essences instead of allowing them to feed on the souls of others. Ghostly shadow, mists and fog...even the land itself warped around and time was at a standstill in the ethereal realm. Perfect for sneaking around and getting by unnoticed, but doing so was quite taxing on me. It seemed that in an odd twist of fate, I was trapped in the mortal realm until I could gather enough strength to etherealize, and even then doing so would leave me almost defenseless once I re-materialized. I had learned to use the shadows and sneak up on my victims, backstabbing them when they least expected it. I would make a great thief, but money doesn't seem of much value when you have lived as long as I have.
Satisfied with my handiwork, I turned my attention to scavenging the corpses for any valuables or trinkets. One of the blarthogs, similar in features to a troll, had some type of amulet on it. Seems this was the reason my initial attacks weren't successful. I pocketed the amulet until I could find a way to identify its origin. Perhaps my old wizard friend Malchior would be able to identify it for me. He was always into books, although it seems I hadn't heard from him in ages. Wonder what the old coot was up to. We would always banter back and forth about any number of arcane spells he was studying. I always found his fascination with dark magic quite disturbing, but I never gave much thought to it. Seems that I was hoping against hope that the dark magic would not consume his very soul and end up corrupting it. My magic could be considered "dark" but it was a very part of my nature. Had I bothered to learn more dark magic, I doubt it could make things worse.
A fluttering paper, tightly gripped in the gruesome hands of one of the "trollish" creatures, was struggling to be released. I freed the note from its prison and looked it over. It was scibbled in an almost illegible handwriting, and smeared with blood. Parts of the paper were torn and the words hard to make out. From what I could tell I could clearly read only one part:
"Destroy DarkWraith, at any cost. Do NOT allow him to make contact with or help the Teen Titans in ANY way. My assault on Jump City shall go according to plan, and I cannot afford to have any screw-ups! Anyone who fails and survives, shall be punished. Failure is NOT an option! I expect updated reports on progress every day, no lame-ass excuses."
The note was signed...Slade.