Children of the moons
Posted: Tue Mar 01, 2011 10:49 am
Prologue -
(I did not send this off to my editor yet, so if catch some SPAG or anything feel free to let me know)
The ground spit up dust as the warm breeze curled around the corners of the nearby buildings surrounding the squared yard, echoing a ghastly sound as it ripped through the silence of the crowd gathered. The only other sounds heard was the occasional piece of bandit paper rolling across the powdery street, and the billowing of a scarlet red cloak being blown sideways off the man positioned a few paces beneath a presented pyre.
He licked his chapped lips, only to feel the dry air slap at them again. He could taste the dust in his mouth, but he made no attempt to show it, and little more effort trying to force a swallow from a parched mouth. His body was weak with dehydration, but remained focused and confident, standing tall and straight as his sapphire colored eyes fixed their gaze up towards the pyre before him. Shaken hands held a firm grip upon a hard, black encased leather book, the edges of his fingers trailing over the golden encrusted chalice presented upon its front. His short, blond hair shifted to the change of the winds direction, his head snapping a glance behind him as a sneeze erupted from the audience.
The scarlet cloak shifted its direction as well, as the wind caught it in a moving stride. The rest of his crimson colored clothing, which was mostly a robe, also fluttered from the breeze, the dominant colors presenting themselves proudly, and making the man stick out like a sore thumb amongst the rest gathered around the square.
His eyes caught the sight of nearly a hundred members in the witnessing crowd, their anxious eyes befalling the presentation above as well. He could see the subtle movements of those expressing impatience, and the occasional fidgeting of others who may have been attending for the first time. He could feel the hints of a frown pulling at his burnt lips as he returned his gaze back to the pyre, then to the man standing at the foot of the presenting stage.
A man, covered from head to toe in gleaming steel armor, stood at the very base of the stage, beside the towering pyre. The armor flashed off light as the sun reflected off its sheen. The clothing underlining the glossy metallic suit was made of blue and white coloring. Etched into the man's breastplate was a blue symbol, crossed swords above a chalice. A long, flowing blue cape being tugged at by the breeze swaying into him from the side also presented the same symbol. This man was a knight of the church. He soon offered the scarlet dressed man a nod, and sent his hawkish gaze back towards the pyre.
The man in red received the nod, then returned one of his own before turning his body towards the congested crowd behind him. He reached up with his left hand and cleared his dry throat before taking in a deep breath, shifting a gaze to the pyre itself.
Chains and manacles had been used to help stabilize and contain the woman restrained on the pyre itself. The shackles clasped around her wrists hung high above her head, fastened upon the small metal loop protruding slightly from the wooden stake. Her hair was chaotic, still containing leaves and various other objects lodged within. Her face had been stained with dirt and traces of blood and bruises. The side of her mouth was swollen nearly shut, as a blunt object had looked to be used to beat her with it. Teeth were missing, and those that were present had been rotted and on the verge of dislodging from her mouth entirely. Despite her unkempt and beaten face, her luminous blue eyes still glowed beyond the savagely beaten face. A dull glow and one that helped mask the dark pockets of black hanging beneath the surreal orbs that gazed out into the crowd before her.
The scarlet dressed man exhaled after the brief survey of the woman and took his steps up the side of the stage, his rough black boots thudding against the wooden planks softly. He stopped before the Knight, dipped his head in a appreciative manner and turned towards the sea of people who patiently awaited his words. A few whispers started to drift through the crowd, ones he could not decipher fully before finally lifting his arms into the sky.
"Citizens!" he boomed loudly, straining behind the dry throat preventing him from raising his voice to its full potential. "We are gathered today to witness the cleansing of this woman, Saerine Galiant!" His voice strained behind the words, but his body remained confident and his grip upon the black book was still firm despite the weakness trying to take over his body. "Miss Galiant has confessed her sins before the counsel of the church, and admitted to her dealings with witchcraft and consorting with the wicked and vile Manus which corrupts our beautiful capital! She has asked for forgiveness and through the Lord of the Springs will be granted this request! She will be cleansed by fire before the people of the city, and the before the Church itself. Her soul will be prayed for, as we hope it receives the blessing and forgiveness from the Lord of the Springs."
His words pause momentarily as he offers a glance to the woman, a frown still lingering on his facial facade before he goes to open his mouth once more. His words however, never make it from his throat, catching on the stride to his tongue as the woman beside him lashes outward, sending a barrage of verbal curses into the air.
"I hope you burn in hell!" she growls, taking the moment to spit a vile yellowish ball of liquid in the direction of the man. "They are coming!" she warns loudly, her attention focused now on the people. "They are coming and you cannot stop them! They will destroy this city, and every living person within it. You all will burn as our ancestors have!"
A steel covered fist suddenly silenced the woman, as the knight sent a sidelong punch at her face, forming another fresh wound that allowed new blood to form at the corner of her mouth.
It took the man in crimson a few moments before clearing his throat in an inaudible fashion before continuing. "So let us pray for the poor soul of Miss Galiant! May the Lord of the Springs show mercy upon her tortured soul." He turned his body crisply and gave a singular nod to the knight, then stepped off to the side.
The man dressed in his full steeled attire bent over, grabbed a lit torch and held it before the woman on the pyre. He gave a long stare before suddenly declaring. "For Dav!" His arm shot forward, tossing the lit torch upon the stacked pile of wood and oak, sending a brazier of flames skyward from beneath the woman, the orange inferno danced up the woman's body and made it roughly halfway up the towering stake before stopping. The blaze licked at the woman's body and wood, sending embers into the air, which looked like sacrificial imps around a bonfire.
A shriek erupted from within the vortex of flames, like a banshee awakening from a thousand year slumber. The crowd began to sway with uneasiness, many simply unable to take the sound of the woman's agonizing screams, others unable to adjust to the filtering scent of burning flesh quickly spreading across the square. The added discomfort of the woman's sizzling flesh did not help the cause.
From the stage, the man in scarlet forced his eyes shut as the final cry of pain echoed from the blanket of flame beside him, ending in nothing more than a gurgle. He reopened them and let a sigh of relief pass his chapped lips, his tense body relaxing slightly as he started to move from the stage. His body suddenly froze in terror, a spine tingling feeling crawled up his spine, sending his eyes wide and mouth agape. He tried to speak, to call for help of the Knight beside him, but had no control of his actions.
"Father?" he heard the knight beside him ask, as he was impeding the path off the man off the pyre. "Father, are you well?" he heard again.
He couldn't respond, he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe! His breath started to loosen itself, coming in short, and faint bursts from his throat.
A shrill silence suddenly befell the surrounding square, the braziers used as street lamps suddenly erupted in a dark, blackened flame, bluish in hue. Loud whispers began to take over any sound made by the crowds of people, which had been replaced with screams of fear now. Women cried out in surprise while children began shedding tears. The once congested group started to scatter, sending some people face first on the ground as the ones who retained their footing, simply trampled over them.
The knight beside the crimson dressed man suddenly drew his blade from its sheath once more, his alert eyes quickly giving a fearful, but vigilant gaze across the square's surroundings as he attempted to pinpoint the sudden source of confusion. He took a single step forward, and grunted in surprise, his body sent flailing high into the air by an unseen force.
Frozen with either fear, or by that of spell, the man was unsure, but he felt another ice cold tingle crawling from his feet up his legs. He shivered and gasped loudly, still unable to control his movements.
A whispered voice ripped through the air suddenly, sending the eyes of the man wide beyond there limit. "Dav is not with you!"
The words lingered in his head for a few moments, his brain seeming to decipher through the sharp words piercing into his ears before suddenly feeling light. Like built up steam being released, his body exploded, spraying a fan of blood in all directions soaking anyone in the vicinity of him.
The whispers continued to linger, followed up a raspy deep cackle. "There is only me."
(I did not send this off to my editor yet, so if catch some SPAG or anything feel free to let me know)
The ground spit up dust as the warm breeze curled around the corners of the nearby buildings surrounding the squared yard, echoing a ghastly sound as it ripped through the silence of the crowd gathered. The only other sounds heard was the occasional piece of bandit paper rolling across the powdery street, and the billowing of a scarlet red cloak being blown sideways off the man positioned a few paces beneath a presented pyre.
He licked his chapped lips, only to feel the dry air slap at them again. He could taste the dust in his mouth, but he made no attempt to show it, and little more effort trying to force a swallow from a parched mouth. His body was weak with dehydration, but remained focused and confident, standing tall and straight as his sapphire colored eyes fixed their gaze up towards the pyre before him. Shaken hands held a firm grip upon a hard, black encased leather book, the edges of his fingers trailing over the golden encrusted chalice presented upon its front. His short, blond hair shifted to the change of the winds direction, his head snapping a glance behind him as a sneeze erupted from the audience.
The scarlet cloak shifted its direction as well, as the wind caught it in a moving stride. The rest of his crimson colored clothing, which was mostly a robe, also fluttered from the breeze, the dominant colors presenting themselves proudly, and making the man stick out like a sore thumb amongst the rest gathered around the square.
His eyes caught the sight of nearly a hundred members in the witnessing crowd, their anxious eyes befalling the presentation above as well. He could see the subtle movements of those expressing impatience, and the occasional fidgeting of others who may have been attending for the first time. He could feel the hints of a frown pulling at his burnt lips as he returned his gaze back to the pyre, then to the man standing at the foot of the presenting stage.
A man, covered from head to toe in gleaming steel armor, stood at the very base of the stage, beside the towering pyre. The armor flashed off light as the sun reflected off its sheen. The clothing underlining the glossy metallic suit was made of blue and white coloring. Etched into the man's breastplate was a blue symbol, crossed swords above a chalice. A long, flowing blue cape being tugged at by the breeze swaying into him from the side also presented the same symbol. This man was a knight of the church. He soon offered the scarlet dressed man a nod, and sent his hawkish gaze back towards the pyre.
The man in red received the nod, then returned one of his own before turning his body towards the congested crowd behind him. He reached up with his left hand and cleared his dry throat before taking in a deep breath, shifting a gaze to the pyre itself.
Chains and manacles had been used to help stabilize and contain the woman restrained on the pyre itself. The shackles clasped around her wrists hung high above her head, fastened upon the small metal loop protruding slightly from the wooden stake. Her hair was chaotic, still containing leaves and various other objects lodged within. Her face had been stained with dirt and traces of blood and bruises. The side of her mouth was swollen nearly shut, as a blunt object had looked to be used to beat her with it. Teeth were missing, and those that were present had been rotted and on the verge of dislodging from her mouth entirely. Despite her unkempt and beaten face, her luminous blue eyes still glowed beyond the savagely beaten face. A dull glow and one that helped mask the dark pockets of black hanging beneath the surreal orbs that gazed out into the crowd before her.
The scarlet dressed man exhaled after the brief survey of the woman and took his steps up the side of the stage, his rough black boots thudding against the wooden planks softly. He stopped before the Knight, dipped his head in a appreciative manner and turned towards the sea of people who patiently awaited his words. A few whispers started to drift through the crowd, ones he could not decipher fully before finally lifting his arms into the sky.
"Citizens!" he boomed loudly, straining behind the dry throat preventing him from raising his voice to its full potential. "We are gathered today to witness the cleansing of this woman, Saerine Galiant!" His voice strained behind the words, but his body remained confident and his grip upon the black book was still firm despite the weakness trying to take over his body. "Miss Galiant has confessed her sins before the counsel of the church, and admitted to her dealings with witchcraft and consorting with the wicked and vile Manus which corrupts our beautiful capital! She has asked for forgiveness and through the Lord of the Springs will be granted this request! She will be cleansed by fire before the people of the city, and the before the Church itself. Her soul will be prayed for, as we hope it receives the blessing and forgiveness from the Lord of the Springs."
His words pause momentarily as he offers a glance to the woman, a frown still lingering on his facial facade before he goes to open his mouth once more. His words however, never make it from his throat, catching on the stride to his tongue as the woman beside him lashes outward, sending a barrage of verbal curses into the air.
"I hope you burn in hell!" she growls, taking the moment to spit a vile yellowish ball of liquid in the direction of the man. "They are coming!" she warns loudly, her attention focused now on the people. "They are coming and you cannot stop them! They will destroy this city, and every living person within it. You all will burn as our ancestors have!"
A steel covered fist suddenly silenced the woman, as the knight sent a sidelong punch at her face, forming another fresh wound that allowed new blood to form at the corner of her mouth.
It took the man in crimson a few moments before clearing his throat in an inaudible fashion before continuing. "So let us pray for the poor soul of Miss Galiant! May the Lord of the Springs show mercy upon her tortured soul." He turned his body crisply and gave a singular nod to the knight, then stepped off to the side.
The man dressed in his full steeled attire bent over, grabbed a lit torch and held it before the woman on the pyre. He gave a long stare before suddenly declaring. "For Dav!" His arm shot forward, tossing the lit torch upon the stacked pile of wood and oak, sending a brazier of flames skyward from beneath the woman, the orange inferno danced up the woman's body and made it roughly halfway up the towering stake before stopping. The blaze licked at the woman's body and wood, sending embers into the air, which looked like sacrificial imps around a bonfire.
A shriek erupted from within the vortex of flames, like a banshee awakening from a thousand year slumber. The crowd began to sway with uneasiness, many simply unable to take the sound of the woman's agonizing screams, others unable to adjust to the filtering scent of burning flesh quickly spreading across the square. The added discomfort of the woman's sizzling flesh did not help the cause.
From the stage, the man in scarlet forced his eyes shut as the final cry of pain echoed from the blanket of flame beside him, ending in nothing more than a gurgle. He reopened them and let a sigh of relief pass his chapped lips, his tense body relaxing slightly as he started to move from the stage. His body suddenly froze in terror, a spine tingling feeling crawled up his spine, sending his eyes wide and mouth agape. He tried to speak, to call for help of the Knight beside him, but had no control of his actions.
"Father?" he heard the knight beside him ask, as he was impeding the path off the man off the pyre. "Father, are you well?" he heard again.
He couldn't respond, he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe! His breath started to loosen itself, coming in short, and faint bursts from his throat.
A shrill silence suddenly befell the surrounding square, the braziers used as street lamps suddenly erupted in a dark, blackened flame, bluish in hue. Loud whispers began to take over any sound made by the crowds of people, which had been replaced with screams of fear now. Women cried out in surprise while children began shedding tears. The once congested group started to scatter, sending some people face first on the ground as the ones who retained their footing, simply trampled over them.
The knight beside the crimson dressed man suddenly drew his blade from its sheath once more, his alert eyes quickly giving a fearful, but vigilant gaze across the square's surroundings as he attempted to pinpoint the sudden source of confusion. He took a single step forward, and grunted in surprise, his body sent flailing high into the air by an unseen force.
Frozen with either fear, or by that of spell, the man was unsure, but he felt another ice cold tingle crawling from his feet up his legs. He shivered and gasped loudly, still unable to control his movements.
A whispered voice ripped through the air suddenly, sending the eyes of the man wide beyond there limit. "Dav is not with you!"
The words lingered in his head for a few moments, his brain seeming to decipher through the sharp words piercing into his ears before suddenly feeling light. Like built up steam being released, his body exploded, spraying a fan of blood in all directions soaking anyone in the vicinity of him.
The whispers continued to linger, followed up a raspy deep cackle. "There is only me."