Arrows glinted menacingly from one side, while on the other, a silver dagger glinted against the boy's throat. Tension crackled in the air. It was thick enough to be cut by the knife at the young man's throat. Yet Al stood rooted in place, steady and controlled, as if the chaos that surrounded him was a distant storm.
Cautiously, he examined his enemies. “Evening gents. How may I help you?” He queried, trying to get a sense of their intentions beyond the obvious.
The archer was the first to speak. His voice was hoarse, and he appeared sickly. “Shut it, wizard, we only want the boy.” He spat those words like they were poison.
Shaking his head, Al resigned himself. These men were not keen on civilised banter. “You are here for the boy. That explains the silver.” He gestured to the weapon made of a material he thought was more for werewolves.
“There is no need for you to get an arrow to your forehead. Let us have the abomination and we can be off.” Pulling his bowstring taut, he threatened Al with an arrow through the eye.
It was like a gangster cocking his shotgun before demanding a wallet. Shaking his head, Al muttered softly. “Nope, this won’t do.” When those words came out, everything changed.
The tension in the atmosphere rose another notch and the two ambushers could feel a slight tingling down their spines, the part of the brain that was still an animal. It gave them exact information: run now or face being slaughtered like cattle.
The one behind Al was the first to speak. The first person to speak behind Al said, "He is trying to hex you. Do something now!"
It glided through the air and found its target, but instead of a kill shot, the poor archer failed to hit his mark. The tip hit the shoulder, but instead of piercing flesh, it warped and bent around him. A force quickly saturated his target's body, bending space around him.
Not losing any momentum, it shot forward, hitting flesh. The sound drew Al to the horrific sight of Felix with an arrow sticking out of his gut, piercing through his body and into the man behind him. If it were anyone else, he would be dead.
The sound of pain yelped out, shifting the situation at once. The archer realised his shot had missed and reached for his quiver. He was far too late. With a thought, the air rippled around Al’s arm and, narrowing his gaze, the feeling of power radiated down his arm. With his movement, an air current shot forth, reaching his foe in an instant.
Slicing through the air like a blade, his head was cleanly severed. The man didn’t even realise he was dead before his vision spun. With a dull thud, the severed head fell to the grass, followed shortly after by his headless body.
Inspecting his hand, uncertain what precisely he had just done, the action was on instinct, his body moving on its own. He had engaged whatever magic this was and with a thought; the power granted to him went into action. Shrugging the unexpected situation away, he turned to Felix. The boy struggled to remove the arrow dropped by his attacker and sprawled out.
He appeared to be dead, but he wasn’t taking that chance. Walking over to the still-struggling Felix, he reached down and yanked the arrow with a single thrust. Squealing in pain and clutching his chest, the younger vampire keeled over.
Al keenly observed the wound, the blood stain remained, but it swiftly closed. With his pain receding to a mild itch, Felix ascended to his feet. His face was still reeling in fear, his body shivering like a leaf. Despite the inhuman speed of his recovery, he was still a child. A child plagued by the fears and uncertainty that comes with youth.
“I thought I was going to die.” He said, his eyes were wide with lingering terror as if the arrow was still there.
"Kid, you seem to be made of stronger stuff," Al remarked, directing his attention to the wound.
Shaking his head and regaining some nerve, Felix approached, glancing back at the corpse. “Who were they?” He asked, still shaking.
Al ignored the question, inspecting the bodies. “I think they are mercs, maybe bounty hunters.” He explained, reaching down and picking up the silver dagger.
Shocked by the utterance, Felix paled. “Were they after you?” He asked, trying to connect the dots in his head and coming up with an entirely different scenario.
Shaking his head, Al inspected the blade. The gleaming silver was crude, yet still a fine blade. “Considering they were packing silver; they were likely after you.”
The moment he uttered those words, Felix noticeably shifted, the pace of his breath increased and a phantom sense of a blade at his neck. During that moment of distraction, Al reached over and pressed the blade to the boy’s arm. Pressing it against his open flesh with some expectation. Nothing happened, which is what he suspected.
“That’s interesting.” He muttered, withdrawing the blade to inspect it again.
“What was that about?” He asked, thoroughly perplexed.
Al again ignored him, inspecting the skin, much to the annoyance of a young vampire. “Not even red. Guess silver is a non-issue.” He commented mostly to himself. “So, I wonder why the dead guy was packing the stuff?” Glancing between the blade and the corpse, he queried the air.
Instead of silence, the air replied, not with words, but with a strange near-melodic whistle. He knew on a deeper level that the wind had just answered. It, of course, replied with the good old, I do not know, but answered. Shrugging away the oddity, he quickly glanced at Felix.
The young little upire hadn't noticed the chatty nature of the wind. “Never mind, kid, best to get out of her. Get back to the caravan and to your sister. I will deal with the dead.” Gesturing to the corpses, he directed the young one to vacate.
Felix was ready to protest, but ultimately caved. Turned away, he left with great speed, moving like a swift predator. Once he had vanished through the foliage, Al released a weary sigh. “If that kid wasn’t so nice, he would make a true hellion.” He commented, thinking about the damage a fully grown upire could do.
Shaking such thoughts away, he looted the corpses. The only thing of value was their coin, and the rest of the equipment was subpar. Those who had poorer taste had to salvage them. Another item of interest was the bounty letter and reading over the parchment. Al sighed in pure annoyance. It was a kill order for a monstrous upire with the shape of a child. A crude drawing of Felix was in the centre. Unfortunately, there was a striking likeness.
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Reading the bottom half, skimming past the propaganda, he read the name of the issuer. “The Holy Order of Pyrus, these guys again!” Shaking his head, he tore the paper to pieces, noticing the rough feel of the parchment.
He paused for a moment, pondering his next step. Soon after, he could hear a rustling and turned to see the corpse of the knife wielder. The dead man was moving, twitching like an epileptic at a strobe light convention. Less horror and more scientific intrigue. “Undead perhaps, that would be a problem if they are common.” Muttering to himself, he continued to observe, watching as the corpse lurched to a seated position.
The dead man was deathly pale, his cheeks sunken in, his skin now chalk. He looked like the typical undead. “That looks like some rapid deterioration.” Muttering again, he examined the dead man.
Soon enough the dead rose to his feet, the whites of his eyes locking onto him. With a snarl, his fangs descended, and he lunged like a cat to prey. It required little effort to divert the raving dead man to the side. He generated a wind barrier with a simple wave of his hand, repelling the dead man and sending him crashing into a tree.
It required little time for him to shrug off the impact and he rose with another snarl, growling like an animal. Poised to leap across the distance and sink his teeth in. Despite the prey before him, his eyes switched to another. Following his gaze, Al noted he was eyeing the corpse. Before he could even wonder why, the answer presented itself.
Abandoning his prey, he sought the fresh kill, leaping upon it like a hungry wolf. Diving into the body, the dead man sank his teeth into its shoulder, ripping and biting ensued before it realised there was no blood in the coat. Al merely watched in fascination as a dead man tried to eat another dead man.
Eventually, he found the neck after chewing on the man's shoulder for five minutes, lunging forward, he finally sank into the flesh. Trying to bleed the corpse dry, he had to suck the blood out like a vacuum cleaner. Impressively, it took him seven minutes to drain what was left of the corpse. Face now caked with blood; he stumbled back against a tree.
His eyes were glassier than normal. He looked like he just went on a bender and smoked some premium weed. Inspecting, Al leaned down. He was shaking and twitching, his eyes unfocused. “You look a little blood drunk my friend, did you have your fill?” He asked as a wide brim smile etched itself across his face.
The undead snarled at him, but didn't so much as get up. “Woah, I was just making a joke, but you really are drunk.” He said while poking the undead creature in the noise.
Instead of trying to bite his hand off, the vampire just got startled, like a child. It reminded Al of poking a baby's nose. That reaction they have when they realise they have one. Finding this fellow humorous, he patted him on the shoulder.
“Welcome to the undead club. It’s a non-stop party of blood orgies and never needing to shit.” He stated ironically. “You are one lucky, unlucky bastard. So, chill here, I need to go take a piss.” With his hand on the vampire's shoulder, a faint light shined for a moment in his palm. Satisfied, he rose to his full height, while the vampire remained still.
Walking away to do his business behind a tree, he could hear the vampire try to stumble to his feet and fail miserably. The spell he cast on the man’s body kept him in place. Satisfied, he continued, reaching the tree line and pissing against the bark. He did his business quickly since stuff was going down.
The spell he cast would not last forever and so he took a quick piss and contemplated his next move. “Guess some bandits, maybe bounty hunters, are attacking the camp. I should probably go help, but my magic is on the fritz. I don’t want to rely on the spirit's blessing, but alas, life doesn’t give us a choice.” Finishing his business, he pulled up his trousers and set off to fight someone.
He cast an eye on the vampire, estimated the creature would be trapped for a while, and then moved to the centre of the clearing. He took a superhero pose. Crouching to one knee, channelling every superhero from his childhood, the air whirled around him. Clenching his fists, he felt the energy expelled from his body, and with a simple tug; he flung himself into the sky.
Going airborne, he flew over the forest, casting his searching gaze below, noticing the clash of steel and the roar of battle. From a brief inventory, they were being attacked by a large group of bandits. They were not skilled in their shabby armour and a wide assortment of weaponry.
Their advantage was their numbers against the skilled caravan and inspecting this hallowed field of battle, he noticed two new friends kicking ass and they seemed to do well, protecting the caravan. Looking around, he finally noticed Felix. He was with his sister, beating back some bandits. She was waving around a frying pan like a baseball bat. She was probably halfway through cooking when they attacked.
“Fear the mighty frying pan of doom.” Al chuckled before launching himself at his enemies.
Felix was there helping his sister and looked like he grabbed a tree branch, whacking a guy over the head. “If this went any further, my little upire friend will have to expose his nature.” He muttered. “I can’t have that.” He added, unleashing a wind blade.
The deadly blade glided gracefully before slicing two bandits in half. They hadn't even realised they were dead before they keeled over. Their torsos slid to the side, promptly scaring Felix and his sister for dear life. Felix screamed like a little girl, in direct contrast to his rather well together sister. I landed before them, her still brandishing the frying pan like it was a legendary weapon.
“Nice night, huh?” He said, as if the surrounding carnage was not even occurring.
Before he could continue his cool little superhero landing, someone threw a blast of fire in his direction. Reacting on instinct, he covered himself and the siblings in a protective shield. His reaction was not quick enough, and the blast pushed him forward. All three met the sky for a single fragile moment, before meeting the carriage's wood panels intimately.
Dazed and confused, Al tried to get his bearings, casting a look at the siblings who lay knocked out cold. Felix was moaning, still conscious, likely thanks to his vampiric constitution. Al’s gaze was blurry, but he could make out the sight of three figures approaching. One was brandishing a fireball in his hand and a deadly gleam in his reptilian eyes.
He looked human mostly, except for the eyes and the scales around his cheeks. Al heard only a single sentence, uttered in complete contempt. “Filthy humans!” The reptilian bellowed with such fury; his fireball might as well be a manifestation.
He raised the scorching weapon, prepared to burn the wizard to cinders, then unleashed the fireball towards its target. Al could see a flaming death approach, ready to end him. Suddenly, a towering man moved into the path of the fireball and took the full brunt of the flames. He grunted in pain as the flames licked across his body like hungry leeches. Still, he remained firm and still in defence of others.
The flames receded, and the man's visage became known. It was James, grinning like an idiot despite the pain. Holding himself up, his head held high, he reached to his belt, withdrawing a vial. The ampule was small, yet he gulped the meagre contents.
The moment he did so, the reptilian fire mage spoke in a rage. “You're an alchema? I hope you choke on your potions!” He screamed, readying another fireball.
With his spell taking shape, the fire mage ordered his fellow bandits to protect him and they brandished their weapons, an axe and a short sword. Both were not entirely human. One had horns and another had a long tongue like a snake.
Intimidation did not affect James. Instead, he belched, radiating heat outward from his chest, and his body shuddered. His skin started turning greyish before cracking like stone. The potion taking effect. He broke into a run. The flustered fire mage instinctively flung his spell at the approaching enemy.
It was time for a match between fire and stone and despite the situation, James smiled, holding to the knowledge of barrelling them over like bowling pins.
Al gawked at the sight, wanting even more to get up and get in on the fun. “Let’s get ready to rumble!” The injured wizard Al screamed into the sky, a mighty war-cry, no one even cared to listen to.