VALOUR: CHAPTERS 1 & 3

Author's Note:

Truly, I had only intended to give you chapter 3, but the word counter prevented me. Its brevity was rigorously intentional. I would the rather you stewed in the mystery, and let your imagination wander.

So if you want the intended experience, skip A Morbid Curiosity and just read The Haunt of Blood.

Chapter 1: A MORBID CURIOSITY

Hunger. Voracious, violent hunger. It was a snake that slithered in his guts and coiled around his stomach in an ever tightening compulsion for the euphoric release of consumption. He pulled a corpse from the pile, and took hold of its upper arm, pulling. He felt the flesh part, and cool blood flow into his hands.

He licked his fingers.

He pawed at the gnarled flesh of the stump, and tore a piece away, putting it into to his mouth. But it was not enough. He need not saver it.

He ripped his helm off, exposing his sickly, pale face underneath to the acrid, caustic fumes that filled the planes of the great Boverian waste. He brought the whole arm to his mouth and began to tear at the flesh.

But it was yet not enough.

Therefore he opened his mouth wide. Wider. His jaw unhinged. He slid the arm into his mouth with one hand and crushed it in his jaws with his other hand before finally letting it slip down his throat and into his stomach to decompose into his cairn of flesh.

He was still famished. Would it ever be enough?

He leaned forward onto his knees, crouching over the mound of corpses, and feasted ravenously. Tearing the flesh from the bones. Breaking the bones to suck the marrow out. Breaking the skulls open to suck the brains out. Using the skull as a vessel to drink the blood. How many corpses would he consume before he was sated? 10? 20?

He looked up briefly from his squalor. He could still make out the faint twin lights of the two great towers of Twain Hearth through the poison fog. He looked about at the remains of the caravan: he had not gone far before bearing witness to its destruction at the hands of a band of vampiris. Though it was day, they could still walk, for the light of the sun was choked by the dense poison clouds above that cast Boveria into a perpetual red haze of despondency.

He had arrived in time to slay the beasts, but not to save the caravan.

He continued taring off limbs of dead flesh, consuming them bone and all, when out of the corner of his eye he saw the little girl stir from her slumber.

Thou art a young damsel of the caravan, yes?

Her skin was deathly pale. There was a fear in her eyes.

Thou wast a maid. And lo: thou art a vampire.

The fear in her eyes deepened.

Would it not be kinder to thee to spare thee of thy miserable state? Therefore I pray thee crawl into my mouth: be consumed in my flesh.

My lord, do it not! For I wish to live!

Do as seemeth good to thee to do. It is well, but that thou shouldst consume the flesh of a man. If thou do this thing, I shall pluck thy heart from thy chest. Then will I consume thee.

O’ brave knight! Why dost thou spare my life?

Thy name. Tell it me.

Deluna. Deluna Von Shaft is the name of thy handmaid.

I pity thee, Deluna Von Shaft. Thou art but a child, and yet thou art smitten of Sanguine Vampiris. It is my duty to slay thee.

She stooped to the ground and bowed. 

What is thy name, O’ righteous paladin?

I am Hector of the Council of Gleaming White. A paladin I am not, but a councilman.

Is it thy duty to slay me? Why dost thou spare thy handmaid against the command of thy council?

My will is the council’s, but I have yet mine own discretion with me. I will not slay thee except there be a cause.

Be I a vampire, as thou sayest, what shall I do? Shall I triumph over my nature, being a child?

Yea. I shall be thy cage. My bones shall be thy bonds and I will feed thee. The blood of beasts shall be thy drink, now I bid thee come near.

My lord?

If thou wilt not obey, I shall slay thee now and consume thee. Come hither.

She rushed to his feet and knelt, looking up at him. He was a giant towering over her. His hand glowing, light shining through the plating of his massive gauntlet, he grabbed her face. Her face lost in his massive, armored palm, she spoke.

Thou art possessed of many magics, my lord!

Thou art bound this day to my service. Thy will is subject to mine, and I to the council. Therefore thou art bound in service to my cause, and are so compelled to aid me on my quest. Speak now thy troth.

I do swear to serve thy cause! This day, and all my days!

Thou speakest well. Arise, let us go thither.

CHAPTER 3: THE HAUNT OF BLOOD

Cometh now the beast man from under the two lamps, with his stripling sanguine companion? Whence comest thou to the abode of the Witch King of Greater Boverian Waste? Why hast thou entered my haunt of blood? Pollutest thou my sanguine sanctuary for nought? Foolish thou art; the bones do forecast thy doom.

Foul Magician of Blood. Knowest thou not why I have come? Even to discover thy haunt and to staunch thy issue upon the land, and to scatter thy bones upon the face of Boveria have I come. Thy bands of Sanguine Vampiris perish with thee.

Art thou not but a suckling? And what knowest thou of the hunger and raven? The deep devouring of the belly? Yea what of thy curse in comparison to all of mine? And wherewith shalt thou staunch my issues of blood? These many rivers of blood that do flow from my sword dipped in the veins of thy people?

Verily, with the hairs of thy beard, and of thy head, and with the hairs of thy privy members shall I wipe away the stain of thy ambition. Till it all be gone up. Yea, as the carpet of the sea will I soak the blood till it all be gone up.

Wilt thou, indeed?

Thy flesh will I heap up for victual.

Thou takest up thy sword that I may put it up again.

The vintage of thy blood will I press for drink.

Come then and fulfill thy boast.

It is decided.