#hellbound chronicles

[fenixwrites]

Starlight Serenade

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   It was late, and the adventurers were in need of food and rest. Hours of scouring the woods for a place to set up camp had brought them to an old mansion not far from a trickling creek, deep within the dark forest. Years of abandonment had the manse covered in ivy and leaves, with shrubs and moss and a few trees growing through and atop the building. It was as safe as they would be getting, and provided more than enough cover, should the clouds that loomed above drop showers on them. Most of the roof was rotting, but there were a number of smaller rooms and a master bedroom that still had roofs relatively intact. It would be more than enough for a night or two for the small party.

   Adaleis was given the master bedroom, with the large four-poster bed near the windows which covered most of the wall, and had a small balcony to overlook what was once a beautiful flower garden. Athur, the woman’s lynx companion, was quick to test the integrity of the bed the moment they had stepped foot into the room, walking circles around the old bed sheets and bouncing a few times before settling on the pillows contentedly.

   The air was chilled that night, and everyone was bundled up tightly in their bedrolls as they slept soundly, most of the men snoring contentedly by the fires they had started in the old fireplaces and braziers. Despite the large fire Adaleis had roaring in the fireplace, she found herself wide awake, unable to sleep, and pulling herself out of bed, attempting not to rouse her feline companion.

   The clouds had cleared up and made way for the full moon, glowing brightly in the star-dappled blanket of the sky, illuminating the forest around the old mansion as if it were some sort of dreamscape. Adaleis found her cloak draped over a nearby chair, throwing it over her shoulders and pulling it around her body to keep warm before deciding a walk was needed. Her footfalls were silent as she wandered her way through the hallways, golden eyes looking all around her, taking in the sights, pausing often to brush aside some vines and admire artwork left behind.

   After a while of just letting her mind meander with her wanderings, she found herself at the large double doors to what was once a beautiful ballroom. Tables were upturned, chairs thrown around, but near the back, a grand piano somehow still stood in one piece, untouched, save for the vines and moss growing over it. Truly, an ivy mansion... She thought, tilting her head curiously in regards to the instrument. She took a step inside the ballroom, feeling a chill run up her spine, sending shivers down to the bone, but still she made her way slowly to the piano.

   She righted the overturned seat and set it before the piano, brushing aside vines and leaves from the cover before lifting it, revealing ivory and black keys covered in a fine layer of dust beneath. She blew the dust away, watching it lift into the air and almost sparkle in the moonlight that shone through broken windows and rotting roof as it fell slowly and settled elsewhere.

   A gloved hand reached out from beneath her cloak, hitting one of the keys gently, frowning when she heard the instrument was out of tune. Standing up, she opened up the large lid and went into the body of the piano, spending the next few minutes tuning it properly, making sure not to be too loud and awaken her companions upstairs. She sat back down, testing the keys once more, smiling lightly with satisfaction when the notes rang out perfectly.

   Slowly, Adaleis began a quiet song, a serenade she had heard played at a wedding in Penmarth when she was just entering womanhood. A young handsome man, the son of a local nobleman, had asked for her hand to dance, and whisked her away into the crowd before she could give proper response.

   The song began to build up slowly, and she fell into a deep trance, focusing on how the notes came out and rang out through the empty ballroom. The chill she felt seemed to have left as every thought that plagued her mind earlier that day just fluttered off like bats at the sound of the piano. Magic seemed to be in the air, for a fog of sorts seemed to gather on the ballroom floor and swirl around, slowly taking shape in the forms of people dressed in fancy dresses and exquisite suits, taking each other for one last dance in the ivy mansion. The moon shone down on the ghostly dancers, bringing Adaleis’ memories and music back to life once more. As her song continued and escalated, more of the apparitions appeared and joined the others on the dance floor. The room seemed to transform into a beautiful dream, somewhat reminiscent of what the mansion used to be like, but with touches of details from the woman’s own memories. So caught up in her own world was she that she didn’t take notice of anything going on around her, or of Alorn’s quiet approach.

   “How did you do that?” He asked softly when her song began to slow to an end, and Adaleis was suddenly jerked out of her trance, golden eyes popping open just in time to catch a glimpse of the dream come alive before it disappeared into nothingness.

   She blinked, looking around the large ballroom, which looked exactly like it did when she first sat down at the piano, frowning a little. “I don’t know.” She responded, slowly bringing the cover down over the keys to protect them from future damage. “What did you see?”

   “Ghosts of the former guests in the mansion, I suppose. A large, beautiful party, a wedding perhaps. I heard the angels singing along with your song, felt magic in the air.” Alorn explained, taking a seat next to her on the old bench. “I felt that chill down to my bones when we stepped foot on the mansion property, felt it even more when I heard you playing your song and when I entered the ballroom. Now, it is gone, as if something has been lifted from this place.”

   “I gave them their last dance...” Adaleis muttered sombrely, running a gloved finger along the golden engravings in the piano lid. She heard Alorn turn his body, felt his eyes on her.

   “What are you, Adaleis?”

[fenixwrites]

Hellbound Chronicles, part one: Omen ; prologue

   Across the promenade, one of the local thieves’ guilds awakens as the moon hides behind the clouds. Their footfalls are silent, their forms cloaked in the shadows of darkness, the only communication being simple hand gestures and nods of their heads. Their targets were two guards of a local noble’s mansion, undercover agents of their rival guild. Their mission was to take out the nobleman, a fat man who served as an in-between for the rival guild and other merchants who used to work for their master. Assassins crept forward and slipped behind the barely aware guards, while another thief silently went to the task of picking the locks to the manse. Only a few minutes passed before they snuck inside, quiet as shadows.

   By the docks, the Blue Raleigh Inn and its patrons were down for the night. A patron on the main floor mumbles in their sleep and rolls over onto the wench they’d bought for the night, drooling on the pillow beneath his head. Upstairs, a female twitches occasionally in her sleep, writhing from nightmares that haunt her sleep. An army of cloaked assassins creep through the night in her dreams, slowly encroaching upon a camp of travellers and merchants like the tide washes over the sandy beach. Tents are sliced open, throats opened up just as soon. Horns are sounded in her dreams and she cringes; battle soon begins. Women are screaming, children are woken up and begin to cry and call for their mothers and fathers who lay gutted on the ground before them. She writhes more intensely, her hands finding the bed sheets beneath her, clawing at them, tearing holes.

   She tosses and turns, and the moon is revealed through a small gap between the clouds. As the soft light enters her room, her eyes shoot open and she gasps for air. Her chest rises and falls heavily as she struggles to calm her breathing and her intensely beating heart. Panic grips her.

   Down by the docks, a group of worshippers are gathering on the beach, their robes dark as the night itself, making them seem nothing more than dark shapes moving over the sand. They stand around in a circle and begin to wave their arms, bowing their heads and chanting in a foreign tongue long since forgotten in the world, calling to their god.

   Back across the promenade, the thieves are creeping silently through the home, noiselessly cutting the throats of the guards who pace the halls boredly. The fat noble mumbles in his sleep, one arm draped over his sagging stomach, the other holding one of two whores at his side. A hiccup, and the swatting of the air, but he goes back to sleep. The door is kicked down violently, and he’s suddenly awake. He blinks his eyes to clear his vision, and when they adjust to the dark, all he sees is a dagger coming towards him. He goes to scream, but all that comes out is gurgling, and blood pours out of his mouth as the dagger slips just below his clavicle. The whores are gagged and prevented from screaming, and soon, they join the man on his death bed.

   In the inn, the female is stumbling out of bed, reaching, grabbing for something, only to knock the unlit candles and lamps from the night table and the desk nearby. Her head throbs, she’s still struggling to control her breathing. She goes to scream in agony, but nothing comes out. A wolf outside howls. She needs to get out of the inn, away from the city as fast as possible. She reaches for a cloak and simply tosses it over her barely clothed body, not caring for a robe or britches and a tunic. She runs out of the room, stumbling, crashing against walls with a light thud, and soon she’s out, sprinting towards the docks, the closest exit to the city.

   The thieves across the city have finished their job. Their blades are wiped on the bed sheets, and no trace is left behind. They take only what won’t be noticed is missing, and they slip out into the night, heading back to their master for their reward.

   The female reaches the beach and as her feet touch the cool sand, she throws her cloak away and lets out an inhuman scream. The woman is no longer there, only a disfigured being that looks more demon than human. Rage boils through the creature, its chest heaving as black eyes scan their surroundings. The cultists are heard chanting. An inhuman growl escapes their lungs, and the thing is off, bounding towards the robed men who are too caught up in their ritual to notice the hulking creature running towards them with a thirst for death.

  A worshipper falls and the chanting is replaced with screams. They try to scatter, but fleeing does them no good as the creature hunts them down one by one and tears them to pieces. The beast roars and runs off into the darkness.

   The night is quiet again.

[fenixwrites]

Asynion - The world of the Hellbound Chronicles

   When they thought they could teach us no more, they departed our world for the plane of gods, the Valhaven. There, they would watch over us, offering occasional guidance and the rare intervention when they deemed necessary. Our people prayed to them, thanked them, and those lucky enough would be graced with communication with them, but we were left to our own devices.

   The years went on, turning into decades, to centuries, to millennia, before any of the gods stepped foot in our world again. So long had it been that no one really noticed that the evil god Theran had had been walking among us, spreading his seed throughout the populace, hoping that one day when he returned permanently, his children would rise and fight alongside him.

   Many cities and countries finally noticed, finally found out, most of them unhappy, and so they enforced a registration and inspection on every child born thereafter. If a newborn showed traits that would give them away as a possible spawn of Theran, they would be put to death without question. Children who passed the initial inspection would be watched closely as they grew up, until they hit puberty, when they said that their ‘gifts’ would begin to show and take over. Any failed inspections thereafter would get them publicly executed. If parents were found guilty of harbouring a spawn of Theran in secret would be put to death with their child; it was a warning.

   Children born in secret and undiscovered, who were allowed to grow and let their gifts develop often died on their own; there was no one to teach them how to properly control themselves in their new states, and often succumbed to their powers, losing their minds and often getting themselves killed. Few children were raised strong enough, both mentally and physically, and those who weren’t were killed by their own powers.

   Years went on, and the spawns’ numbers dwindled until their story turned to legend, their legend turned to myth. Cultists who worshipped Theran continued to preach of their god’s return and the rise of their children, but they were paid no heed.

   Decades passed, centuries passed, and tales of the evil god’s promiscuity and children had all but disappeared, save from the mouths of his fanatical followers. Even their numbers had greatly decreased. Asynion was at relative peace, at least when it came to the returning of the gods. Things had seemed to have settled until Theran’s cult grew restless.

   Their preaching became more ominous, giving warnings of an apocalypse and the signs that would herald the end of this world. Unrest was stirring in the realm, and stories of strange occurrences were circulating amongst the people.

   This is where our tale begins.