Categories > Original > Fantasy > Strannah's Crimson Blood

Christmas Depression

by Dsb 0 reviews

This one is especially...emotional.

Category: Fantasy - Rating: R - Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Fantasy - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2007-05-12 - Updated: 2007-05-12 - 1202 words

Author's note: Keep the reviews coming. This and the next chapter or two will be a little more emotional than the rest. Hope you enjoy. Don't judge me because of this writing please...

Chapter 4- Christmas Depression

Encirnia was walking slowly, staring at the map in his hands. He felt it telling him where to go, but up the hill was his only confirmed objective. Soon the ground beneath him became a plateau, and in the valley below lay a town. Encirnia jumped form ledge to ledge on the rugged plateau's side. The sunlight troubled Encirnia, and coupled with his growing frustration caused him to perpetrate. He raised the scroll to block the sunlight, and suddenly new text materialized on it. Below the note taken on Strannah, it shined one, simple sentence. "Bring him to me," he read it aloud. He was at the remote town's entry gates, and Encirnia placed the atlas in his coat. The protector's of the town waved him past, oblivious to his dangerous appearance. His face showed no emotion, and as soon as he passed a huge sign dropped. Every local resident in the region stared at him, with guilty looks. He began to walk again, but stopped as he heard an odd sound. Turning his attention to the space above him, another piece of debris soared towards him. A quick sidestep saved him from the inanimate object, but the organism riding on it's back was unavoidable.

The gigantic arachnid hastily pinned Encirnia down, venom dripping from his fangs. He stared into it's numerous eyes, showing no emotion, and the spider seemed confused. In a lightning fast movement, the spider grabbed his head in pain. He backpedaled in pure agony, and Encirnia pushed the attack. His dark impassionate eyes were torturing the spider, twisting it's thoughts into deadly blades. Promptly exiting the area, the local militia fired burning arrows at it. The heat along with it's mental instability caused the monster to fall down, before burning to ashes.

The band of soldiers turned to him, not lowering their bows. Glimpsing at the militia, Encirnia assessed his options, and as he decided to run, the highest ranking officer turned to him. In her shimmering breastplate and helm, she looked like his ideal enemy. She approached him sword drawn, and Encirnia drew his own blade. She stopped abruptly, and started into where she figured his eyes where. She sheathed her weapon, and he did the same. The voice that departed from the brim of her lips was angelic, pleasant yet commanding. "Follow me please, sir." The little army disbanded in all directions once they saw him comply. Encirnia was led into her house, and she threw her armor off in a corner. Under lay a casual commoner uniform. The officer glanced at a calendar, obviously disturbed. Encirnia followed suit, wondering what troubled her so. She sat at the table, and motioned him to do so as well. Encirnia gawked at the calendar with orbs of anguish. The date marked, that they where a measly day from, was December 25th. The holiday had always brought thoughts of self deceasing, and Encirnia had learned to knock himself out to prevent this. She looked at the officer with an emotionless face, still not fully comprehending the date's meaning. The sight of her radiant face pierced his skin, and filled his cold heart with painful emotions. His rage and emotionless state faded, and as he sat down he made sure to cover his face. He took all precautions to cloak his feelings, but inside depression and desolation threatened his very life. The gleaming soldier asked him questions, but he denied her information with a lowering of his skull. When asked if he had a love, he looked up, his eyes filled with thought of suicide. He looked back to his legs speedily, his corneas exploding within their sockets. All he could do from losing control of his body was dig his nails into his skin, which drew rivers of blood. Having went through her list of inquiries, she looked down to his blood collecting upon her floor. She leaned over gently and removed his hood, and he didn't move. The blood in his neck and face was rapidly surging through his veins and arteries, carrying his dreaded condition. Tears of blood fell upon the table and his coat, overtaken by his hate and poignant sensations. The woman drew back as the multiple canals of vital fluid poured from his wrists and eyes. The door slammed open, and a man rushed to the female officer. He picked her up and looked harshly at Encirnia, clearly wishing his demise. Encirnia chuckled, not comprehending the mans intentions. Encirnia thought the gentleman was here to kill him; but his intentions where to protect his mate. In a sudden rush, the older male was nailed to a wall with small daggers. He thought it best to leave before more of these arrived, his sadness slowly decomposing his body. Scurrying like a madman, Encirnia was followed by citizens of the settlement, who wanted revenge. The whole population decided to get in on it, and were slowly catching up to him.

Encirnia could normally run with great vitality, but his despair slowed him. His thoughts of suicide grew, realizing he had nothing, nothing at all. He pressed his heels against the ground in a flash, and turned around to face the murderous mob.

They charged forward yelling, trying to force his retreat. He stood there, bleeding tears of magenta, and stared at them. Seeming confused, the assemblage of anthropoids stopped centimeters from his protoplasm. They looked at him puzzled, waiting to see him evacuate. The leader was a mere 14 year old boy, holding a behemoth cutlass. The chap poked him in the arm, failing to break the skin. Encirnia swiped the cuspate edge, immobilizing the lad with his eyes. The boy fell back in fear, and those next to him helped him to his feet. Encirnia raised the blade, and made a motion to slay those denizens in front of him. Instead Encirnia brung the saber on his own arm. The bayonet failed to cut through his arm, being halted by his zealous bones. Gaping in horror, the females and young men among the gang took flight. Only the middle-aged males remained, and they forged a wide ring around Encirnia. They advanced slowly, envisioning his recklessness. Encirnia raised the skewer above his brain. Thrusting the sword into the ground in front of him, the circumference of the men's prison erupted in violent movements. This was all the men could take; this demented person had bested their nerves. His gory fleecy tears falling, he roared at the cowards. "Come kill me you gutless weaklings!" Encirnia fell over, then hoisted himself to his feet using the illegitimate blade. He turned around, draping his entire body. Encirnia stumbled along the flat plains in such a condition for hours, not once looking up. He soon ran into a rock, which he discovered to be part of a major mountain chain. His feet becoming dysfunctional, simultaneously combined with his blood loss, he blacked out. The blade pierced his other arm, but Encirnia didn't feel such pain.
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