Categories > Original > Fantasy > Blood Spill
Everything in this story is copyright ©2006 David Loper (Demonstar) Reproduction in anyway is against the law. You have been warned.
God, I hate grass. So itchy, so very itchy, yet here I am lying on it. Arms itch, legs itch, neck itches, every point of exposed skin on my body is driving me nuts, but I'm just too tired to do anything about it. Why am I so tired? You try carrying a 200 pound body on your back into the middle of a 120 acre forest. I also have this sword Mr. I love speaking to myself gave me. This thing is HEAVY, at least 45 pounds. Jeez, not fun. Normally I would have just left something like that behind, but it's such a nice sword. The hilt was modeled from gold and chiseled by hand, small textures parts on the hilt increased ability to keep a grip on it. The blade itself was polished to perfection, like staring into a mirror.
But I'm not used to such heavy swords. I'm an assassin, right? Right, so I use light weight things like knives, daggers, and short blades. This, however, is a Twin hand sword; only the ones with the strongest upper body strength can even hold this thing up properly. I mean, if I were to swing this thing I would go flying 10 feet in the air. Woosh! The best part of it all is the guy didn't have the right mind to give me the sheath, which means this blade has no protection against the element, which, in turn, means it will slowly get weaker and duller every day... but it's such a nice sword!
God, I'm dirty, I'm hungry, and itchy. But such a nice sword! Hey! Shut up! You have your passions and I have mine, understand? So you and go to god damn hell for all I care; I have a sword and you don't, stop being so jealous. This thing is starting to make my arms hurt.
I am really aching right now, good thing I'm almost home. What? Of course I have a home! You do, don't you? Well, no one really knows about my home, seeing as I've hidden it, built it in the middle of the forest. Hey, look! Another cliché! This is so turning into a tall tale, isn't it? Yes, I admit, most of the people in my profession do not have permanent homes. In case you don't know why this is; this is because we make enemies quickly. Well, I don't, but many of the armatures in my profession who don't know what the they're doing and get caught or mess up constantly make enemies faster then a rabbit reproduces. I used to be like that, but I killed them all.
I finally get up, legs tightening under my weight and the swords. Then it hits me; I am going to gain SO MUCH muscle from this. Wow, I ought to do this more often, buff muscle man. Yeah... no. Never did understand how all those 'men' can stand to have that entire bulging shirt ripping crap. Don't get me wrong, I'm no weakling; I mean I have to be physically fit to keep up with the high demand of my clients. I have to be ready to sprint and move on command, with out the need to stretch. So, I suppose, I focus more on my flexibility more then my muscle, but working on my flexibility in turn exercises the muscles so I guess it's a nice 2 for one deal. My lungs have also adapted to me breathing hard. I first started out I would get tired with in an hour, now I can sprint for 2 hours and still be able to jog afterwards, evolution baby!
I take my first step; my left foot screams at me, second step; right foot howls, third step, fourth step, fifth step, and so on. It's really no biggy, now that I think about it. I've been associated with much more agonizing pain in my life, even as a child I had more pain then this, but once again, that is none of your business. At least, it's not yet. Just let me point out: I'm not a genius. I have brains, but I'm on the average scale. I'm just a lucky son of a bitch who's good with blades and at sneaking around.
My left shoulder twinges.
"It is done then?" his raspy voice asks. I'm startled, I'll admit it, and I'm just good at hiding it.
"Aye, it's done," see? I can be serious too!
He lets out an amused grunt, "Don't act like that, it doesn't suit you."
I look back at him and frown briefly then grin sheepishly, "I know, right?" I let out a nervous laugh then look at the ground and really frown this time, "You're not the only one not to take me seriously today," I mumbled it so he could only hear me if he really cared. He didn't.
"Go home, get some rest," it was a command, not a suggestion, "Your next assignment begins in exactly 3 days."
I give him a disbelieving stare, "What?! So soon?! I won't be fully recovered for at least a week!"
Those piercing green eyes narrow into a glare, "3 days. Do I make myself clear?" did I mention that he has anger issues?
I let out an angry snarl, "Aye," I say reluctantly, "We're clear." He turns and walks into the thicket, he's good at disappearing in closed spaces, I mean REALLY good. He could kill me right now if he wanted to. You see, the boss isn't human. I mean, really, he isn't human. He hasn't told me, nor has anyone else; I figured it out on my own. For starters, I've never seen his face. He always hides it behind the hood of his robe. His eyes are also green, very green, and they glow. He also always wears gloves. Come to think of it, I've never seen any exposed skin on him and I've known him for years and before you ask; no, I will not tell you how many years.
Three days? Three fucking days? What the fuck? There is no damn way I will be ready for another assignment by then! I felt the anger burn bright and hot inside my gut until it hurt, rising, growing, and becoming alive. Living and dancing and my cheeks begin to burn. God damn him and his smugness, god damn his idiocy, GOD DAMN HIM!
With a sudden burst of strength I gripped the sword with both hands and lifted it above my head and with all my muscles could give, struck a tree. What happened next took me by shock. The very instant the blade hit the tree the blade itself burst into flames, fire swirling all around it. I began to feel faint and my muscles began to shake. Eyes blurry... I felt... so very cold.... I feel sick... I feel---
God, I hate grass. So itchy, so very itchy, yet here I am lying on it. Arms itch, legs itch, neck itches, every point of exposed skin on my body is driving me nuts, but I'm just too tired to do anything about it. Why am I so tired? You try carrying a 200 pound body on your back into the middle of a 120 acre forest. I also have this sword Mr. I love speaking to myself gave me. This thing is HEAVY, at least 45 pounds. Jeez, not fun. Normally I would have just left something like that behind, but it's such a nice sword. The hilt was modeled from gold and chiseled by hand, small textures parts on the hilt increased ability to keep a grip on it. The blade itself was polished to perfection, like staring into a mirror.
But I'm not used to such heavy swords. I'm an assassin, right? Right, so I use light weight things like knives, daggers, and short blades. This, however, is a Twin hand sword; only the ones with the strongest upper body strength can even hold this thing up properly. I mean, if I were to swing this thing I would go flying 10 feet in the air. Woosh! The best part of it all is the guy didn't have the right mind to give me the sheath, which means this blade has no protection against the element, which, in turn, means it will slowly get weaker and duller every day... but it's such a nice sword!
God, I'm dirty, I'm hungry, and itchy. But such a nice sword! Hey! Shut up! You have your passions and I have mine, understand? So you and go to god damn hell for all I care; I have a sword and you don't, stop being so jealous. This thing is starting to make my arms hurt.
I am really aching right now, good thing I'm almost home. What? Of course I have a home! You do, don't you? Well, no one really knows about my home, seeing as I've hidden it, built it in the middle of the forest. Hey, look! Another cliché! This is so turning into a tall tale, isn't it? Yes, I admit, most of the people in my profession do not have permanent homes. In case you don't know why this is; this is because we make enemies quickly. Well, I don't, but many of the armatures in my profession who don't know what the they're doing and get caught or mess up constantly make enemies faster then a rabbit reproduces. I used to be like that, but I killed them all.
I finally get up, legs tightening under my weight and the swords. Then it hits me; I am going to gain SO MUCH muscle from this. Wow, I ought to do this more often, buff muscle man. Yeah... no. Never did understand how all those 'men' can stand to have that entire bulging shirt ripping crap. Don't get me wrong, I'm no weakling; I mean I have to be physically fit to keep up with the high demand of my clients. I have to be ready to sprint and move on command, with out the need to stretch. So, I suppose, I focus more on my flexibility more then my muscle, but working on my flexibility in turn exercises the muscles so I guess it's a nice 2 for one deal. My lungs have also adapted to me breathing hard. I first started out I would get tired with in an hour, now I can sprint for 2 hours and still be able to jog afterwards, evolution baby!
I take my first step; my left foot screams at me, second step; right foot howls, third step, fourth step, fifth step, and so on. It's really no biggy, now that I think about it. I've been associated with much more agonizing pain in my life, even as a child I had more pain then this, but once again, that is none of your business. At least, it's not yet. Just let me point out: I'm not a genius. I have brains, but I'm on the average scale. I'm just a lucky son of a bitch who's good with blades and at sneaking around.
My left shoulder twinges.
"It is done then?" his raspy voice asks. I'm startled, I'll admit it, and I'm just good at hiding it.
"Aye, it's done," see? I can be serious too!
He lets out an amused grunt, "Don't act like that, it doesn't suit you."
I look back at him and frown briefly then grin sheepishly, "I know, right?" I let out a nervous laugh then look at the ground and really frown this time, "You're not the only one not to take me seriously today," I mumbled it so he could only hear me if he really cared. He didn't.
"Go home, get some rest," it was a command, not a suggestion, "Your next assignment begins in exactly 3 days."
I give him a disbelieving stare, "What?! So soon?! I won't be fully recovered for at least a week!"
Those piercing green eyes narrow into a glare, "3 days. Do I make myself clear?" did I mention that he has anger issues?
I let out an angry snarl, "Aye," I say reluctantly, "We're clear." He turns and walks into the thicket, he's good at disappearing in closed spaces, I mean REALLY good. He could kill me right now if he wanted to. You see, the boss isn't human. I mean, really, he isn't human. He hasn't told me, nor has anyone else; I figured it out on my own. For starters, I've never seen his face. He always hides it behind the hood of his robe. His eyes are also green, very green, and they glow. He also always wears gloves. Come to think of it, I've never seen any exposed skin on him and I've known him for years and before you ask; no, I will not tell you how many years.
Three days? Three fucking days? What the fuck? There is no damn way I will be ready for another assignment by then! I felt the anger burn bright and hot inside my gut until it hurt, rising, growing, and becoming alive. Living and dancing and my cheeks begin to burn. God damn him and his smugness, god damn his idiocy, GOD DAMN HIM!
With a sudden burst of strength I gripped the sword with both hands and lifted it above my head and with all my muscles could give, struck a tree. What happened next took me by shock. The very instant the blade hit the tree the blade itself burst into flames, fire swirling all around it. I began to feel faint and my muscles began to shake. Eyes blurry... I felt... so very cold.... I feel sick... I feel---
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