#frozendownpour

[frozen-downpour-blog]

Frozen Downpour Part 1, Chapter 2, Bit 3

     Grinning from ear to ear, Raziellashed out like lightning. With a fluid motion, he whipped his arm around, his fist just missing the horse. The horse was instantly bisected horizontally, its organs exploded out and a tremendous amount of blood glided through the air. The rider’s feet were also severed as he landed on the top half of the horse, soaked in blood and gore. The bottom half landed not very far away.

     Raziel cocked his head at the rider, who was still frozen in the stupor of trying to comprehend what had just occurred. He looked at his hands, and at the lower half of the horse, still twitching, a few feet away. Raziel could feel his pain, his horror, and his surprise. 

     But, Raziel tuned these out as he turned to the old man, who was also frozen with a look of horror smeared across his face. The old man noticed Raziel watching him, and screamed. He scrambled to get up, tripping on himself during his mad dash up the hill.

     Raziel followed him slowly, now carrying a tremendous blade in his right hand. The blade of the super-greatsword was a broad slab of metal almost five inches thick in the center, tapering off to the sharp gold plated edges. The entire sword was an eclipse-like black, looking at it gave the viewer the feeling of falling into a void. The center of the blade was engraved with hieroglyphs, almost indistinguishable from the rest of the blade. 

     A majority of the blade was soaked in blood. It was evident that the blade had a hydrophobic effect as the blood smoothly cascaded from the blade. As Raziel walked up the hill, all of the blood fell off of the super-greatsword. The blade slowly faded out of sight, rendering itself invisible to the naked eye.

[frozen-downpour-blog]

Frozen Downpour Part 1, Chapter 2, Bit 2

     Raziel assumed a wide stance, blocking the path with his small frame. The old man stopped and looked up at him. His left eye was bloodshot and his hands were shaking as they clutched wearily at his cloak. He was covered in wrinkles, and when he smiled at Raziel it was apparent that he did not have good hygiene.

     Keeping his smile, Raziel greeted the old man. “Having good travels in Aeris today, old man?”

     “Oh yes, of course. The weather here is splendid.” The old man responded.

     “Are you travelling to the Sevik as well old man?”

     “Why yes, I am indeed. What is your name, boy?”

     “Raziel.” 

     At the mention of his name, Raziel noticed that the old man’s face darkened. Slowly, he began to reach into his cloak. Raziel tensed, but didn’t let his stance or smile falter, as to give away his knowledge.

     “And why are you travelling to the capital for, Raziel?” The old man questioned. His hand stopped for a moment, and then began to slowly withdraw from his cloak.

     Another entity entered the scene. Just over the hill three more people slowly approached, one on horseback. Using his blessing, Raziel looked over the hill.  There were three men in a line; the one in the center was riding a black horse. The men on either side were clad in leather armor and held beaten and scratched long swords as well as circular wooden shields. The man on the horse wore inelegant iron armor and held a spear in his hands. They were all gruff, with unshaven beards and long dark unwashed hair. Their eyes were greedy and filled with bloodlust.

     Raziel listened to the man in the center.

     “Wait for Morris’ signal.” He looked at the men on either side of him. They nodded, both grinning in anticipation.

     “I don’t need to answer to no assassin, old man.” Raziel grinned from ear to ear.

     The old man moved much faster than Raziel thought a man of his age could move. His movements were fluid, practiced, and experienced. He threw the knife with expert precision, aimed at Raziel’s neck. Raziel dodged, rolling to the left and immediately dashing towards his attacker. He was still grinning from ear to ear.

     “Missed me, old man!” He taunted.

     The old man wasted no time pondering his failed attack; he whistled and began to run up the hill. Raziel sprinted at the old man and leapt at him. He grabbed the old man by the ankle, tripping him.

     “Gah!” the old man shrieked. “Your hand is as sharp and cold as metal!”

     The horseman leapt over the crest of the hill, the tip of his spear flew just over Raziel’s head as he let go of the old man’s leg and leaned backwards at the last second.

[frozen-downpour-blog]

Frozen Downpour Part 1, Chapter 2, Bit 1

     Razielwalked calmly along a small path through wide flowering hills. His bare feet sank into the soft dirt beneath him. The sun bathed him in a glowing warmth as he strode along, eyes closed and face tilted into the light. He smiled as he basked in the summer warmth of Aeris.

     He was a young man, around eighteen years of age. He had very short light brown hair and eyes so dark they looked black. He was skinny but toned, and wore a simple short sleeved shirt and pants. Hanging around his neck on a blue chain was a polished silver halo with the words “Etna Virontous Sreit” engraved around the edge.

     Aeris was a small coastal country, it remained neutral during the War of the Heralds. But Raziel knew it was not entirely neutral.

     Southwell Larsa, a famed counter-assassin, hid herself deep within the heart of Aeris. Her lair dug its roots into Aeris's capital, the "Flooded City", Sevik. She controlled the small guild of super assassins, the legendary Tomb Screamers. Raziel had only one goal in mind, to eliminate the Tomb Screamers. Specifically Southwell herself.

     But currently, he was being followed. He was blessed with ethereal awareness, an ability that enabled him to use all five of his senses in a radius of about 30 feet around him.

     He could see the old man walking behind him, he could hear his worn boots carefully walking on the path, and he could smell the strong cinnamon liquor on his breath mixed with half-cooked salted meat and stale bread.

      But most importantly, he could taste the poison coating the throwing knife the old man carefully hid within his tattered cloak.

[frozen-downpour-blog]

Frozen Downpour Part 1, Chapter 1, Bit 4

     Samuel broke off the passionate kiss and looked at the woman in front of him.

“Jessica, I’m so glad you’re okay.” He hugged her again. “How’s Rain?”

     Jessica stiffened. She pushed herself away from him and turned away.

“He’s sick, so sick.” Jessica’s happy aura disappeared as she looked down at the ground.

“He can’t even speak anymore, and his hands… his hands are rotting, he can’t feel them anymore, and I…”

     Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I couldn’t do anything.” Samuel put his hand on her shoulder, she jumped at his touch.

“It’s going to be okay, I-”

“Do you have it?” A quiet voice interrupted him. Samuel looked up at a tall boy standing awkwardly in front of Jessica.

“Yes, I do.” Samuel let go of Jessica’s shoulder. He began to step towards the ribcage shelter. “Let’s not waste any time, I-”

“You’ve already wasted enough of our time slicer.”  He spat as he turned and walked away.

“Uza!” Jessica pleaded, but her voice fell on closed ears. Samuel rushed past her and she held her hand out to him, but her fingers only brushed through his cloak.

     Samuel ignored his insult and ran past him, pulling out a small flask of fluid from his robe. As Jessica watched her lover run into the darkness of the ribcage, a single snowflake fell and landed on her outstretched hand.

     It was too late.

[frozen-downpour-blog]

Frozen Downpour Part 1, Chapter 1, Bit 2

Seven more identical figures emerged from the forest, each with a diamond edged katana drawn at the ready. Each sorrowful mask directed it’s gaze at the exhausted Samuel. The sword in Samuel’s hand danced with arcs of black lightning, held an arms length in front of it’s wielder. Heavily breathing, Samuel eyed the assailants before him; each unmoving, each watching, each poised to kill. Black lightning pierced the air as Samuel swung his sword horizontally. The lightning formulated a wide arc and expanded outwards at incredible speeds. Three of the assailants were caught in the arc of black lightning and exploded into snow as they were severed in two. The other four dodged the arc and closed in on Samuel with an incredible burst of speed with katanas aimed to sever already in mid-swing. Samuel parried the first katana with his own sword and slugged the attacker in the throat. Grabbing the immobilized attacker by the shoulders in mid air, he swung him around to be sliced in the neck by the next blade. As the body exploded into snow, he rushed his blade forward and sliced straight through the mask of the next attacker before it could bring it’s katana back around. Black lightning exploded from the head of the attacker, dissipating it into snow. The next two attackers came at the same time on opposite sides of Samuel. He leapt forward as the blades came down, at the same time he turned himself in mid air and again created an arc of black lightning. The arc collided through both of his assailants at their midsection. One exploded into snow while the other was severed in two, blood gushed from each part as they glided through the air. Falling into the snow, the top half of the assailant began to scream and flail around. It tried to gather it’s entrails that had fallen into the snow and shove it back into it’s rib cage. Blood spilled through the mouth of the metal mask as it’s screams were interrupted by heaving and wet coughs. Samuel stood up amd brushed the snow off of his cloak. The lightning that had danced across his blade wore off. He sheathed his blade and walked away, not giving a second look to the slowly writhing mass of blood and gore that reached out to him in it’s last seconds before bleeding out.

[frozen-downpour-blog]

Frozen Downpour Part 1, Chapter 1, Bit 1

Samuel ran through ice covered pine trees, his tattered robe catching on sharp branches and his boots sticking in the ice and slush. His short dark hair was covered with a heavy hood, and his deep blue eyes darted back and forth, searching the shadows of the darkness closing in around him, grabbing at his ankles and whipping by his frozen cheeks. His attacker stayed close behind him, with his diamond edged katana drawn and caked in recently stolen blood. The attacker too was cloaked, but in a heavy red leather detailed with grotesque sexual and violent acts. His face was obscured with a silver mask, the face all too human and twisted into a form of sorrow. They entered into a snowy field. Thick fresh fallen snow enveloped them to their waists as they trudged through. Samuel turned around at the edge of the field, drawing his longsword and drawing a clay flask from within his cloak. The attacker stopped, but only for a brief moment as his prey cracked the edge of the flask with the tip of his blade causing a thin black fluid to run down the length of his blade. The diamond edged blade cut through air and falling snow, the tip of it drawing a thin red line across the cheek of Samuel as he leapt backwards. The attacker rushed forward to deliver the fatal follow-up before his prey was able to even touch the ground. In a split second blue lightning leapt from Samuel’s blade and sliced straight through the katana, breaking it in two, before continuing clean through the attackers arm and shoulder and severing his limb clean off. Samuel landed in the snow and rebounded, embedding his balde between the metal lips of the sorrowful mask. Without a scream the attacker exploded into clean, swirling white snow.