Categories > Original > Fantasy > Strannah's Crimson Blood
Chapter 3- Your blood will fill my veins...
Encirnia awoke, blood caked upon his face. He was chained to a wall, his hood covering his face. His prison cell was small, just enough to keep him in. No guard was on duty, indicated by the lack of sound. His shackles were rusty, and gave way to his accumulating anger. He silently wrapped his bonds around his left arm. His weapons and vials had been stripped, leaving him to use his melee capabilities. Encirnia slipped through the black iron bars that confined him with ease; he had dieted for such an occasion. The room to which he entered was one for imagination, encrusted with blood on all walls. A single thought crossed his mind; if she's been here, they will pay. Pay past the instantaneous death he had decided would suffice; they would now suffer much more. A pink ruffle of tailored material flashed across Encirnia's eyes, causing him to retreat. Hiding behind a pillar, the patrol's cries of pain were ended thanks to the chain's ability to constrict flesh.
Using the map neatly tucked into the watchman's pocket, Encirnia cleverly found the "Confiscated Weapons" sector of the building. By the looks of the map and scales drawn upon it, he was in an underground society. He collected all of his old weapons, along with his dangerous concoctions in peace. After further examination, the thorough atlas revealed a grim fact. A room across the armory was inked in red coloring; "Strannah". A footnote resided next to the room's name, and it delivered a dismal article. After reading the lengthy commentary, he formed a conjecture that aroused his deepest hatred. His supposition was that the one he was solely devoted himself to was going to be bred with a massive, hideous warrior. This would create a race that had superior strength and intelligence, as well as having attractiveness.
Encirnia's emotions born anew, he turned around. His will to annihilate his foes overtook him, and he picked unbefitting recipes and vials, his goal to do deliver maximum suffering. He then stormed out of the room, hoping to find some resistance. His fury starting to settle, the absence of enemies kept him satisfied. The vicinity that he urged to reach seemed miles away, but he gained ground on it quickly.
As Encirnia stood in front of the door, he prepared his mental self for whatever lay inside. His physical self was always ready to fight, especially for his love. Emotions were harder for him, and anger was the single feeling he used often, with deadly precision. After taking a long breath, he slipped through the passage like a shadow. He crept along the black and white marble perimeter with such skill that the three soon to be deceased humanoids did not detect him. His victims were chanting, and those who had completed this stood in silence. They did not act like prey, they had been reciting they're lines long before he entered; thus lead Encirnia to the conclusion that the room was soundproof. Once he realized this, he grinned wildly, and already had a plan of attack.
The fodder were so enthralled in their work that they failed to hear Encirnia behind them. He wrapped his arms around the prey on both sides, and rested his chin on the middles shoulder. They stood in silence, knowing only death awaited them. Placing his nails on the middle one's throat, he ripped it open with great vigor. The scream omitted through her new wound, sending crimson blood onto the floor. Her comrades suffered a similar fate, but the marks converged on one side of their necks. The muffled screams meant nothing, they where in a sound proof room. Looking up slowly, his love was once more stirred. His was indeed fully clothed, but they where ripped apart. Her poor condition caused his blood to boil, he wanted to hold her. Suddenly the sound of air escaping caused him to end his trance. Looking up, his darling was being carried off from behind the wall. Only after a second of thinking did Encirnia grasp this, and by this time Strannah was gone. In a sudden burst of fury, Encirnia lunged through the glass casing in pure desperation, stumbled up, then pursued his sweetheart's captors. Strannah was dragged to a ledge, and lifted by basket along with her hijackers. They soon reached the top, and Encirnia began climbing the cable left behind. When he reached the top, Strannah was gone. The breeding cruelty must have been relatively evident, as the vivid disciples fainted, throwing themselves over the ledge. As he sprinted through the only route, which was a narrow passage, Encirnia triggered a snare. The trap simply lit the fluid beneath his feet. Slowing to a trot, the flames didn't even scorch his clothing or footwear. It simply singed his abnormally soft skin. Passions surging, Encirnia sluggishly walked in the blaze. Fear and worry, accompanied with desperation, had started to consume his mentality. When he finally escaped the inferno, his mood had direly changed.
From great compassion to ever cultivating hostility, Encirnia had transformed. His goal was to no longer be with Strannah, it undertook a metamorphosis to a similar goal. If she is alive, rescue her and make her happy; even if her single wish is to see him dead. Take vengeance, sweet, tasty vengeance. If his heart's ruler was departed, the world would endure true agony. Striding into the light, he re-applied his hood to his head. He perceived an ever-growing shadow in the distance, ascending a mound. He constructed a cerebral illustration of the shadow, and screamed at it. "Your blood will fill my veins...", and thunder stuck around him.
Encirnia awoke, blood caked upon his face. He was chained to a wall, his hood covering his face. His prison cell was small, just enough to keep him in. No guard was on duty, indicated by the lack of sound. His shackles were rusty, and gave way to his accumulating anger. He silently wrapped his bonds around his left arm. His weapons and vials had been stripped, leaving him to use his melee capabilities. Encirnia slipped through the black iron bars that confined him with ease; he had dieted for such an occasion. The room to which he entered was one for imagination, encrusted with blood on all walls. A single thought crossed his mind; if she's been here, they will pay. Pay past the instantaneous death he had decided would suffice; they would now suffer much more. A pink ruffle of tailored material flashed across Encirnia's eyes, causing him to retreat. Hiding behind a pillar, the patrol's cries of pain were ended thanks to the chain's ability to constrict flesh.
Using the map neatly tucked into the watchman's pocket, Encirnia cleverly found the "Confiscated Weapons" sector of the building. By the looks of the map and scales drawn upon it, he was in an underground society. He collected all of his old weapons, along with his dangerous concoctions in peace. After further examination, the thorough atlas revealed a grim fact. A room across the armory was inked in red coloring; "Strannah". A footnote resided next to the room's name, and it delivered a dismal article. After reading the lengthy commentary, he formed a conjecture that aroused his deepest hatred. His supposition was that the one he was solely devoted himself to was going to be bred with a massive, hideous warrior. This would create a race that had superior strength and intelligence, as well as having attractiveness.
Encirnia's emotions born anew, he turned around. His will to annihilate his foes overtook him, and he picked unbefitting recipes and vials, his goal to do deliver maximum suffering. He then stormed out of the room, hoping to find some resistance. His fury starting to settle, the absence of enemies kept him satisfied. The vicinity that he urged to reach seemed miles away, but he gained ground on it quickly.
As Encirnia stood in front of the door, he prepared his mental self for whatever lay inside. His physical self was always ready to fight, especially for his love. Emotions were harder for him, and anger was the single feeling he used often, with deadly precision. After taking a long breath, he slipped through the passage like a shadow. He crept along the black and white marble perimeter with such skill that the three soon to be deceased humanoids did not detect him. His victims were chanting, and those who had completed this stood in silence. They did not act like prey, they had been reciting they're lines long before he entered; thus lead Encirnia to the conclusion that the room was soundproof. Once he realized this, he grinned wildly, and already had a plan of attack.
The fodder were so enthralled in their work that they failed to hear Encirnia behind them. He wrapped his arms around the prey on both sides, and rested his chin on the middles shoulder. They stood in silence, knowing only death awaited them. Placing his nails on the middle one's throat, he ripped it open with great vigor. The scream omitted through her new wound, sending crimson blood onto the floor. Her comrades suffered a similar fate, but the marks converged on one side of their necks. The muffled screams meant nothing, they where in a sound proof room. Looking up slowly, his love was once more stirred. His was indeed fully clothed, but they where ripped apart. Her poor condition caused his blood to boil, he wanted to hold her. Suddenly the sound of air escaping caused him to end his trance. Looking up, his darling was being carried off from behind the wall. Only after a second of thinking did Encirnia grasp this, and by this time Strannah was gone. In a sudden burst of fury, Encirnia lunged through the glass casing in pure desperation, stumbled up, then pursued his sweetheart's captors. Strannah was dragged to a ledge, and lifted by basket along with her hijackers. They soon reached the top, and Encirnia began climbing the cable left behind. When he reached the top, Strannah was gone. The breeding cruelty must have been relatively evident, as the vivid disciples fainted, throwing themselves over the ledge. As he sprinted through the only route, which was a narrow passage, Encirnia triggered a snare. The trap simply lit the fluid beneath his feet. Slowing to a trot, the flames didn't even scorch his clothing or footwear. It simply singed his abnormally soft skin. Passions surging, Encirnia sluggishly walked in the blaze. Fear and worry, accompanied with desperation, had started to consume his mentality. When he finally escaped the inferno, his mood had direly changed.
From great compassion to ever cultivating hostility, Encirnia had transformed. His goal was to no longer be with Strannah, it undertook a metamorphosis to a similar goal. If she is alive, rescue her and make her happy; even if her single wish is to see him dead. Take vengeance, sweet, tasty vengeance. If his heart's ruler was departed, the world would endure true agony. Striding into the light, he re-applied his hood to his head. He perceived an ever-growing shadow in the distance, ascending a mound. He constructed a cerebral illustration of the shadow, and screamed at it. "Your blood will fill my veins...", and thunder stuck around him.
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