A Necromancer's Fairytale
The dress she was wearing barely covered the bare essentials. She was sexy, from her shapely legs to her ample cleavage. She wore thick eye shadow, high heels, and sashayed, swaying her raven tresses.
From the shadows his eyes followed the woman like a tracking beam, taking in her entire figure.
Touch her and……
With but half a thought, Krad grabbed his left wrist, broke it with a sharp twist and tore it off his arm. He would remain true to her…… He did not seem to have lost much blood from the self-inflicted wound, where most other people would already have collapsed from all the several severed arteries. Krad was no stranger to pain. He held up his left hand to the stump and allowed his severed limb to reattach itself.
There!
He had caught the scent of death upon the thug down in the corner. The charlatan had knifed someone the night before for refusing to purchase his pills. Krad leapt off the ledge nine stories above the street.
The prey’s eyes widened just as he saw a dark cloak sweeping over a high-peaked mantle with a jagged crest to reveal gleaming fangs --- a split moment before they bit down hard into his fleshy throat.
The blood that flowed into Krad’s mouth was just a medium he needed to siphon off the victim’s life force into his own spirit. Satisfied, he turned his scarlet eyes moonward and became nothing more than a shadow which vanished into the lonely night skies.
The manor was old, archaic in its design. Krad passed through the huge oaken doors and came before a huge crucifix hung on a wall in the hall. The shame that tore through Krad’s heart nearly made him pass out, but he kept himself together and marched on.
Krad entered a great ballroom to his right. It took up the manor’s entire right wing. He walked up to the vast Karl Muller piano to the doors’ left, sat, and began tapping on the keys, striking out a sad beautiful melody.
After a few moments, the dark prince of the night sighed and got up as the piano continued to play on its own. In the complete darkness, Krad made his way to the ballroom’s wall and began drawing back the large curtains, unraveling great glass windows which allowed the moonlight to seep in.
The light shone upon a large crystal coffin in the middle for the dance floor. In it rested a fair maiden. She was crowned with golden flaxen hair, and wore a virginal white gown. She was almost as pale as Krad, but while his face was a mask of death and despair, hers shone like polished alabaster, captured in the full moon’s glory. Her blood red lips spoke of many happy kisses past, and her gentle eyes were closed, asleep.
It had been many centuries since she last roamed the world awake. Krad could still recall vividly the day that threw both their lives into darkness.
Mediaeval England, Nottingham
Krad was returning to his cottage, back to his home and his sweet beloved, after a hard day of hunting game when he heard rough voices, followed by her screams. Sensing his loved one in danger, Krad dashed into his home to find no less than five men holding her down upon their wedding bed. They were about to violate her.
In his wrath, Krad set himself upon the men in a frenzied fervor. Though Krad was not a very strong man, he was extremely fast with his rapier. In the end, all that were left of his foes had to be carried out of his cottage in pieces.
However, the men whom Krad slew, where the King’s young nephews, who had been out hunting as well, when they chanced upon the sweet voice of Krad’s beloved singing in the woods. The king was not pleased. He had Krad captured, executed and quartered before the royal house hold, and displayed each piece in the capital square.
Krad’s sweetheart was full of sorrow and she sought the aid of a distant aunt, who happened to be a witch of great power; powerful enough to even bring back people from the dead --- at a price.
The witch agreed to bring Krad back to life if his beloved would offer the witch half of her soul, leaving the other half intact, just enough to keep her alive. However, for that, she would have to slumber for all of eternity, until her soul is fully replenished, somehow.
She agreed.
So it came to be that the witch performed her dark magic and Krad was brought back from the dead, though as you can see, he was by no means, truly alive again. He had become an undead creature of the night, who feasted upon the blood of the living to sustain his unholy existence.
Krad waved his hand and the crystal casing of the coffin disappeared. He bent over to kiss his beloved, transferring most of the life force he had obtained earlier to her, leaving just barely enough for him to continue his hellish afterlife. Tried as he may, over the ages, Krad had been trying to restore his beloved’s soul fully, to allow her to wake, but to no avail. He had been hunting down the souls of those he deemed as the damned; street thugs, pimps, drug pushers…… Playing God, deciding who should live and who should not. All these while, his sweetheart stayed asleep.
So long waiting in the dark
Listen to the silence of my heart
All the ages are breaking me apart
When will you be wide awake
Just how many more must it take
Can you not hear my song of the lake?
The one you used to sing for me
Oh sweet flower of the gracious light
Why do you abandon me in my plight?
Riding on your dreams of flight
As my soul festers in the night
Will you still remain in the eternal dark?
As Krad finished his lay, her eyes flew wide open.
From the shadows his eyes followed the woman like a tracking beam, taking in her entire figure.
Touch her and……
With but half a thought, Krad grabbed his left wrist, broke it with a sharp twist and tore it off his arm. He would remain true to her…… He did not seem to have lost much blood from the self-inflicted wound, where most other people would already have collapsed from all the several severed arteries. Krad was no stranger to pain. He held up his left hand to the stump and allowed his severed limb to reattach itself.
There!
He had caught the scent of death upon the thug down in the corner. The charlatan had knifed someone the night before for refusing to purchase his pills. Krad leapt off the ledge nine stories above the street.
The prey’s eyes widened just as he saw a dark cloak sweeping over a high-peaked mantle with a jagged crest to reveal gleaming fangs --- a split moment before they bit down hard into his fleshy throat.
The blood that flowed into Krad’s mouth was just a medium he needed to siphon off the victim’s life force into his own spirit. Satisfied, he turned his scarlet eyes moonward and became nothing more than a shadow which vanished into the lonely night skies.
The manor was old, archaic in its design. Krad passed through the huge oaken doors and came before a huge crucifix hung on a wall in the hall. The shame that tore through Krad’s heart nearly made him pass out, but he kept himself together and marched on.
Krad entered a great ballroom to his right. It took up the manor’s entire right wing. He walked up to the vast Karl Muller piano to the doors’ left, sat, and began tapping on the keys, striking out a sad beautiful melody.
After a few moments, the dark prince of the night sighed and got up as the piano continued to play on its own. In the complete darkness, Krad made his way to the ballroom’s wall and began drawing back the large curtains, unraveling great glass windows which allowed the moonlight to seep in.
The light shone upon a large crystal coffin in the middle for the dance floor. In it rested a fair maiden. She was crowned with golden flaxen hair, and wore a virginal white gown. She was almost as pale as Krad, but while his face was a mask of death and despair, hers shone like polished alabaster, captured in the full moon’s glory. Her blood red lips spoke of many happy kisses past, and her gentle eyes were closed, asleep.
It had been many centuries since she last roamed the world awake. Krad could still recall vividly the day that threw both their lives into darkness.
Mediaeval England, Nottingham
Krad was returning to his cottage, back to his home and his sweet beloved, after a hard day of hunting game when he heard rough voices, followed by her screams. Sensing his loved one in danger, Krad dashed into his home to find no less than five men holding her down upon their wedding bed. They were about to violate her.
In his wrath, Krad set himself upon the men in a frenzied fervor. Though Krad was not a very strong man, he was extremely fast with his rapier. In the end, all that were left of his foes had to be carried out of his cottage in pieces.
However, the men whom Krad slew, where the King’s young nephews, who had been out hunting as well, when they chanced upon the sweet voice of Krad’s beloved singing in the woods. The king was not pleased. He had Krad captured, executed and quartered before the royal house hold, and displayed each piece in the capital square.
Krad’s sweetheart was full of sorrow and she sought the aid of a distant aunt, who happened to be a witch of great power; powerful enough to even bring back people from the dead --- at a price.
The witch agreed to bring Krad back to life if his beloved would offer the witch half of her soul, leaving the other half intact, just enough to keep her alive. However, for that, she would have to slumber for all of eternity, until her soul is fully replenished, somehow.
She agreed.
So it came to be that the witch performed her dark magic and Krad was brought back from the dead, though as you can see, he was by no means, truly alive again. He had become an undead creature of the night, who feasted upon the blood of the living to sustain his unholy existence.
Krad waved his hand and the crystal casing of the coffin disappeared. He bent over to kiss his beloved, transferring most of the life force he had obtained earlier to her, leaving just barely enough for him to continue his hellish afterlife. Tried as he may, over the ages, Krad had been trying to restore his beloved’s soul fully, to allow her to wake, but to no avail. He had been hunting down the souls of those he deemed as the damned; street thugs, pimps, drug pushers…… Playing God, deciding who should live and who should not. All these while, his sweetheart stayed asleep.
So long waiting in the dark
Listen to the silence of my heart
All the ages are breaking me apart
When will you be wide awake
Just how many more must it take
Can you not hear my song of the lake?
The one you used to sing for me
Oh sweet flower of the gracious light
Why do you abandon me in my plight?
Riding on your dreams of flight
As my soul festers in the night
Will you still remain in the eternal dark?
As Krad finished his lay, her eyes flew wide open.
posted by Tristram at 1:47 AM
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