DiMeNsiOn
03-12-2004, 11:09 AM
Chapter One: Black
It was dark in Baranar's forest that night. The light of the two moons crept past the swishing leaves and swaying branches. A calm breeze inched by limbs of trees and the fur of sleeping animals. Sticks crumbled under the rigid paws of tree boars and nocturnal mammals. And there was no sight or sound of man . . .
Amongst the trees, there existed a treacherous creature. Glistening beams shone upon his hair, revealing branch-like dreads reaching out to his shoulder and back. Leaves parted from his dirty locks that draped randomly into his face. His bronzed skin flaked like bark from a dying tree. Each of his limbs seemed to be several roots spiraling unsystematically, until they reached their destination to shape great hands. Was this a beast or a fully animated tree with capabilities of butchery? Regardless, the townspeople that feared him also chose to give him the name of Leif.
He watched over the woodlands, protecting the foliage from the fiends he hated most . . . Men. With his eyes grazing over the darkened forest, his hands guided a precious stone along the edges of his only companion, his axe. It was the only weapon suitable for Leif’s size, which was larger than life itself. Two black branches weaved maliciously to form the staff of the axe and ultimately grind into the blade as if the wood were metal itself. Leif labeled this instrument of pain the Reaper, for all the deaths it has dealt.
The moons needed to rest for the next rise. Leif’s dry eyelids fell limply as his body fell. While the remainder of his body slept, his hand sustained a clenching grip upon the handle of the Reaper, preparing for wanderers and unwelcome company.
As the town cast its forty winks, an inquisitive boy sauntered blindly through the final hours of darkness. While a yawn leisurely slithered out of his lips, the child carelessly meandered into the forest that his parents continuously forewarned him to avoid. But all beliefs eluded him that night.
The Keeper of the Woods felt each yielding footstep the child took into the forest. The thick odor of a child’s happiness dripped off of Leif’s nose as he noiselessly drifted passed the lush surroundings. With every arctic breath the boy released, Leif treaded closer. Brittle vegetation screamed silently with every skull shredding step. As he hung his brutal axe harshly to his side, Leif bent about a dying tree, curling around every fragmented slice of bark while staring at his intruder.
The crackle of a snapping twig petrified the child; his paused feet could not have made such a horrific sound. He forced himself to believe that it was his father, searching for him. But the antagonized footsteps proved otherwise. “Barret, come back home!” He thought he heard his father weep.
An unfamiliar voice struck the boy’s hair upon his neck. Glacial trembling sweat trickled down his vertebrae. The language was similar, but the child had never heard such a low, vicious growl come from any of the townspeople.
"Fear the Reaper. . ." Those words whispered into the boy’s ears like a dying heartbeat of a little girl. The child knew it was too late for regrets as his timid body cringed at the stories he heard about the Keeper of the Woods. In an effort to relieve himself, the son of a farmer screamed a thousand screams. A hollow thud crashing into the rotting leaves followed the cries for help. The headless remains plummeted to the ground as syrupy blood flooded Dio’s earth. Tree-like roots ripped out from the head wound as the corpse twitched frantically, becoming a part of the forest.
Leif lazily went back to his slumber to rest his elemental essence.
Mercu summoned the great sun to shine upon the magnificent world of Fou Lu. Birds sang divine hymns to welcome the warmth and light. And then, the eyes of the Guardian opened. The loveliness of day faded. Clouds covered the blinding star.
Growling and shivering gnarls surged into Leif’s grimy ears. Slowly snapping his neck into an awkward but comfortable position, the Keeper peeked in at the curious rustle. There were two bizarre animals fighting one another.
The larger of the two leaped onto his hind legs, snatching his commanding jaws in a flowing movement. Small, pointed horns swelled out from the jaw symmetrically. When he landed upon his vigorous appendages, he could have been measured at six feet to his spine. His overflowing black fur swayed in every direction he turned. Another bellow emanated from its fury, echoing across the vast forest, while his raw wounds pleaded to heal.
A swift gray mammal bounced effortlessly across the dirt on its back legs. While swinging at the giant beast with its spear shaped limbs, froth collected at the corners of its tiny yet malevolent maw. Cardinal plasma rained against the land, dripping from the wicked spiked extremities.
With his abominable Reaper in his left hand, Leif pounced down in the middle of the ongoing conflict. One arm reached out to the beastly ugliness, and his axe was towards the sadistic impaling animal. His meals were standing to the sides of him, and he couldn’t settle on which to devour first. But since the larger was already wounded, the Guardian allowed the other to scamper away with its existence.
The Overseer severed the beast with the Reaper into three portions; Leif’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He stayed in that bloodied mess after he cooked and consumed his feasts. He leaned against a strong tree, finding little time to relax.
The bones of his meal were scattered erratically across the soil. Leif would use them to sharpen his axe, and then toss them away into a large pile of other remnants in the center of Baranar's Woods.
It had been a good day.
A thick, gray mist blanketed the jungle during his plentiful rest. Leif awoke with the pungent aroma of eradication. He instinctively erected himself, the Guardian’s figure evenly coated in droplets of vapor. As he took hold of the Reaper, damp murky soot shrouded his palm from the staff.
The gathering of low clouds emanated this stench that infuriated the Keeper. His nostrils cowered from the nauseating haze. This was no morning dew.
To discover the meaning of the fog, Leif propelled his axe to the terrain, leaving his considerably immense fists bare. With every finger gouging the tree bark, Leif scaled the trunk until the mist embraced him no more. As his eyes traced down, the Shepherd of the forest observed the suffocating fog from below.
The blinding star leisurely began to rise. Blackness marched from beyond the green horizon. A complete horde of screaming shadowed malevolence. While the darkness approached, it visibly formed a mass of decay; an army.
One man, drenched in a cloaked smokiness, had led the squadron to Baranar, riding a corroded stallion. As the army dissolved into separate units, the town crumbled into a hissing pile of wretched ashes. Leif saw collapsing homes and weeping offspring through the fading haze of sin. In such a short time, a minuscule amount of malignant spirits and fiends shattered the lives of many.
Leif, while crouched in the untarnished treetop, watched a calmer man, outside the rubble. He was suited in a tattered and worn out gray draping coat. His hair was aged and discolored, as were the leather boots that strapped strongly around his feet. A mist flowed out from the tip of his pointing finger, which was pouring into the dismantled town.
A loud, bellow echoed amongst the rancid soldiers. It was the darkness mounted upon the horse. "Now, my phantoms! To the forest!!"
By those words, Leif bolted to the entrance of his beloved forest, but not before he took his axe from the soil. The army halted at his towering presence, but the man in gray continued passed the twitching mass. The frozen expression that painted across his face left an emotionless droplet of sweat fall down the Keeper’s backbone.
The man's arm extended outward, in the direction of Leif. His finger slanted in the air, pointing at the Guardian, while an infernal army gathered behind the man in gray. The power of the nameless being shot from the tip of his finger; hurling a ray of wicked mist at Leif’s shoulder. The Keeper of the Woods clenched his arm weakly, kneeling over in pain. As he leaned agonizingly, the gray villain launched an immoral attack into his chest. The ridiculous might left the forest completely vulnerable.
Leif lay limply, blood-spattered and groaning. His head splintered violently against the dirt. Upon impact, the soil rotted into mortification.
He could protect the forest no more.
The unidentified mist-bearer grinned at the forest, ignoring the fallen Guardian. Shards of blackened haze swirled wildly from the apex of his finger and began to putrefy the woodlands. Then, in a snap of his knuckles, the mist that had previously blanketed the forest peacefully had now twisted it into a barren waste land.
"Excellent, Synthetic." The man on the lifeless stallion stated. "Onward!" They charged through the hissing acid, on to the next obstacle in their way.
Leif gradually lost his existing color. His mangled and charred body was only being held up by his axe, which stood still. What was left was only a blind man's holiday. . .
But then he heard a voice . . .
It was dark in Baranar's forest that night. The light of the two moons crept past the swishing leaves and swaying branches. A calm breeze inched by limbs of trees and the fur of sleeping animals. Sticks crumbled under the rigid paws of tree boars and nocturnal mammals. And there was no sight or sound of man . . .
Amongst the trees, there existed a treacherous creature. Glistening beams shone upon his hair, revealing branch-like dreads reaching out to his shoulder and back. Leaves parted from his dirty locks that draped randomly into his face. His bronzed skin flaked like bark from a dying tree. Each of his limbs seemed to be several roots spiraling unsystematically, until they reached their destination to shape great hands. Was this a beast or a fully animated tree with capabilities of butchery? Regardless, the townspeople that feared him also chose to give him the name of Leif.
He watched over the woodlands, protecting the foliage from the fiends he hated most . . . Men. With his eyes grazing over the darkened forest, his hands guided a precious stone along the edges of his only companion, his axe. It was the only weapon suitable for Leif’s size, which was larger than life itself. Two black branches weaved maliciously to form the staff of the axe and ultimately grind into the blade as if the wood were metal itself. Leif labeled this instrument of pain the Reaper, for all the deaths it has dealt.
The moons needed to rest for the next rise. Leif’s dry eyelids fell limply as his body fell. While the remainder of his body slept, his hand sustained a clenching grip upon the handle of the Reaper, preparing for wanderers and unwelcome company.
As the town cast its forty winks, an inquisitive boy sauntered blindly through the final hours of darkness. While a yawn leisurely slithered out of his lips, the child carelessly meandered into the forest that his parents continuously forewarned him to avoid. But all beliefs eluded him that night.
The Keeper of the Woods felt each yielding footstep the child took into the forest. The thick odor of a child’s happiness dripped off of Leif’s nose as he noiselessly drifted passed the lush surroundings. With every arctic breath the boy released, Leif treaded closer. Brittle vegetation screamed silently with every skull shredding step. As he hung his brutal axe harshly to his side, Leif bent about a dying tree, curling around every fragmented slice of bark while staring at his intruder.
The crackle of a snapping twig petrified the child; his paused feet could not have made such a horrific sound. He forced himself to believe that it was his father, searching for him. But the antagonized footsteps proved otherwise. “Barret, come back home!” He thought he heard his father weep.
An unfamiliar voice struck the boy’s hair upon his neck. Glacial trembling sweat trickled down his vertebrae. The language was similar, but the child had never heard such a low, vicious growl come from any of the townspeople.
"Fear the Reaper. . ." Those words whispered into the boy’s ears like a dying heartbeat of a little girl. The child knew it was too late for regrets as his timid body cringed at the stories he heard about the Keeper of the Woods. In an effort to relieve himself, the son of a farmer screamed a thousand screams. A hollow thud crashing into the rotting leaves followed the cries for help. The headless remains plummeted to the ground as syrupy blood flooded Dio’s earth. Tree-like roots ripped out from the head wound as the corpse twitched frantically, becoming a part of the forest.
Leif lazily went back to his slumber to rest his elemental essence.
Mercu summoned the great sun to shine upon the magnificent world of Fou Lu. Birds sang divine hymns to welcome the warmth and light. And then, the eyes of the Guardian opened. The loveliness of day faded. Clouds covered the blinding star.
Growling and shivering gnarls surged into Leif’s grimy ears. Slowly snapping his neck into an awkward but comfortable position, the Keeper peeked in at the curious rustle. There were two bizarre animals fighting one another.
The larger of the two leaped onto his hind legs, snatching his commanding jaws in a flowing movement. Small, pointed horns swelled out from the jaw symmetrically. When he landed upon his vigorous appendages, he could have been measured at six feet to his spine. His overflowing black fur swayed in every direction he turned. Another bellow emanated from its fury, echoing across the vast forest, while his raw wounds pleaded to heal.
A swift gray mammal bounced effortlessly across the dirt on its back legs. While swinging at the giant beast with its spear shaped limbs, froth collected at the corners of its tiny yet malevolent maw. Cardinal plasma rained against the land, dripping from the wicked spiked extremities.
With his abominable Reaper in his left hand, Leif pounced down in the middle of the ongoing conflict. One arm reached out to the beastly ugliness, and his axe was towards the sadistic impaling animal. His meals were standing to the sides of him, and he couldn’t settle on which to devour first. But since the larger was already wounded, the Guardian allowed the other to scamper away with its existence.
The Overseer severed the beast with the Reaper into three portions; Leif’s breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He stayed in that bloodied mess after he cooked and consumed his feasts. He leaned against a strong tree, finding little time to relax.
The bones of his meal were scattered erratically across the soil. Leif would use them to sharpen his axe, and then toss them away into a large pile of other remnants in the center of Baranar's Woods.
It had been a good day.
A thick, gray mist blanketed the jungle during his plentiful rest. Leif awoke with the pungent aroma of eradication. He instinctively erected himself, the Guardian’s figure evenly coated in droplets of vapor. As he took hold of the Reaper, damp murky soot shrouded his palm from the staff.
The gathering of low clouds emanated this stench that infuriated the Keeper. His nostrils cowered from the nauseating haze. This was no morning dew.
To discover the meaning of the fog, Leif propelled his axe to the terrain, leaving his considerably immense fists bare. With every finger gouging the tree bark, Leif scaled the trunk until the mist embraced him no more. As his eyes traced down, the Shepherd of the forest observed the suffocating fog from below.
The blinding star leisurely began to rise. Blackness marched from beyond the green horizon. A complete horde of screaming shadowed malevolence. While the darkness approached, it visibly formed a mass of decay; an army.
One man, drenched in a cloaked smokiness, had led the squadron to Baranar, riding a corroded stallion. As the army dissolved into separate units, the town crumbled into a hissing pile of wretched ashes. Leif saw collapsing homes and weeping offspring through the fading haze of sin. In such a short time, a minuscule amount of malignant spirits and fiends shattered the lives of many.
Leif, while crouched in the untarnished treetop, watched a calmer man, outside the rubble. He was suited in a tattered and worn out gray draping coat. His hair was aged and discolored, as were the leather boots that strapped strongly around his feet. A mist flowed out from the tip of his pointing finger, which was pouring into the dismantled town.
A loud, bellow echoed amongst the rancid soldiers. It was the darkness mounted upon the horse. "Now, my phantoms! To the forest!!"
By those words, Leif bolted to the entrance of his beloved forest, but not before he took his axe from the soil. The army halted at his towering presence, but the man in gray continued passed the twitching mass. The frozen expression that painted across his face left an emotionless droplet of sweat fall down the Keeper’s backbone.
The man's arm extended outward, in the direction of Leif. His finger slanted in the air, pointing at the Guardian, while an infernal army gathered behind the man in gray. The power of the nameless being shot from the tip of his finger; hurling a ray of wicked mist at Leif’s shoulder. The Keeper of the Woods clenched his arm weakly, kneeling over in pain. As he leaned agonizingly, the gray villain launched an immoral attack into his chest. The ridiculous might left the forest completely vulnerable.
Leif lay limply, blood-spattered and groaning. His head splintered violently against the dirt. Upon impact, the soil rotted into mortification.
He could protect the forest no more.
The unidentified mist-bearer grinned at the forest, ignoring the fallen Guardian. Shards of blackened haze swirled wildly from the apex of his finger and began to putrefy the woodlands. Then, in a snap of his knuckles, the mist that had previously blanketed the forest peacefully had now twisted it into a barren waste land.
"Excellent, Synthetic." The man on the lifeless stallion stated. "Onward!" They charged through the hissing acid, on to the next obstacle in their way.
Leif gradually lost his existing color. His mangled and charred body was only being held up by his axe, which stood still. What was left was only a blind man's holiday. . .
But then he heard a voice . . .