By Alistair_ 10 Comments
Footsteps pounded across the damp soil as two forms desperately fled through the forest. Something was chasing them. A look of terror was painted across the woman's face. She clutched two newborn children close to her chest, holding onto them with every ounce of strength her fingers could allot. The man running behind her was determined. He paced his steps carefully, so as to avoid passing her. If he did, their pursuer might get to his beloved before him. This way, he would go first. There would yet be a chance for his love to escape with their children. It would not be so. Fate had already decided how this unfortunate encounter would play out.
The man felt his back slam into the tree trunk before his throat was ruthlessly cut open. A fountain of crimson was let forth from his gullet, staining the creature's hands with his blood. However, his attacker was not who he expected. It was not some savage beast. Not a monster, with eyes of demonic red and skin of ebony black. No. It was but a man. A thin, wiry man whose trunk was barely wider than a piece of timber. His skin was the whitest shade of pale, looking more akin to a sheet, or a ghost, than the flesh of man. It was then that this fiend's monstrous features were revealed. Long, gnarly nails that were a good few inches longer than his victim's, and sharp as a hunting knife. Elongated, curved fangs that came down where the man's canines should be. And finally, the eyes. Eyes so red, so crimson, that they matched the color of the fluid being drawn from the helpless man's body.
When he was dropped, his body slumped over to the ground. The last thing he saw was the creature run with an inhuman haste to his step. The last thing he heard was his wife's blood-curdling screams.
And that.. that was the first time he died.
Footsteps carefully placed themselves through the brush. A cloaked, hooded form navigated its way up to a cabin that stood solitary in the possessed woods. The moonlight shone upon his marred features, revealing a throat that was painted with a network of white scars. Events occurred at a blinding pace from there on out. Glass was shattered, and an object thrown in through a window. A light exploded from within the house. It was so bright that it dared to out-shine the morning sun. The form from the brush leaped in after it, diving into a roll that brought him into a hunter's predatory stance.
Inside, a pale waste of a man recoiled in pain, desperately attempting to shield his eyes. His skin smoked as if it had been set ablaze. It was blackened in the parts that were visible, and he hissed with all the fury of a wounded creature taken by surprise. Before he could recover from the blinding assault, a blade dug into his shoulder. A second strike severed the arm at the joint. The creature felt his body propelled back up against the wall, then brutally pinned to it with some manner of weaponry.
Then the voice came. A daunting rumble that could scarcely be taken for a human. "Do you remember, demon?" Another object was plunged into the monstrous filth's body, this time into his gut. "Do you remember that night? Where you tore out my throat and butchered my wife like cattle?" The creature went to defend himself. To speak, plead, beg, something, anything to make this mysterious attacker halt his vicious assault. But it was in vain, when a wooden stake was slammed through his throat, silencing any hopes of bargaining with the brutal assailant. "Of course you don't, filth. You've slaughtered so many of us that it all becomes one bloody, gore-filled blur to you."
The man withdrew an object from his coat. Another stake. He flipped it around so that the sharp end was faced towards his pinned foe. "You need not, anyways. All you must know is that you wronged me. You broke into my home." He stepped closer. "Chased us out into the woods." Another step. "Then murdered me." A final step. "And then tore my wife from this mortal world, along with the two sons I had delivered from her womb. And for this, I will return the favor in kind."
All the monster could do was gurgle before the final stake was plunged into his heart, ending his tyrannical life of bloodshed and murder. The man was left without solace, though. His family was still dead. There was no beloved to hold, no sons to raise.. and no hearth to sit in front of. No longer could he simply wind down from his strenuous days. Instead, he was left with the emptiness of bitter revenge.
And then he found something. Purpose. There were others like this filth. Monsters of all kind plaguing this poor world. He would hunt them, become their predator in the same way they were predator to his kind. The tables would be turned about on them. As he turned and left the scene, he resolved to do one thing with the rest of eternity.
Rid the Earth of as many devils as his furious hands could get a hold of.