Mordecai

Mordecai: Skin Deep:

(All characters cotained within our my wonderful originals :P )

Long golden hair swayed slightly in the faint breeze, and golden eyes starred into the fires before him. He watched as the young boy's body burned to ash and flame. His slender, pale fingers caressing the crackling blaze. An image took root in the fire. His golden eyes pulsated as he saw the image take form. A young man appeared in the flame with eyes of gold. A faint smile touched the golden lips of the youthful looking Wiccan.
His voice was calm and cold as the winter air around them, "So this is whom the villagers have sent forth to take my life. A member of my brethern." His laugh cold after remarking upon the image in the flame of a youth with long black hair and red bangs, with eyes as golden as his own.
His black leather boots crunched upon the ground of the forest clearing as he walked towards the wooden cage. The children inside shivered more from the cold then fear of the beautiful youth. The six foot tall man in black robes bent down to look them in the eyes. His hands grasping the cold, brown wooden bars, the smile still evident upon his lips. He pulled open the lock. The children moved back away from the door as it swung inwards. His hands had reached in, pulling out a little girl with black locks. She was dressed in only a large, tattered tunic that covered down to her knees. The door of the cage quickly shut, and locked on it's own violation once the girl was out.
Orphean smiled at seeing the girl trembling from fright and cold. His hands the only warmth she felt. All this the evil Wiccan could tell merely by touching her flesh and looking into those large brightened, sapphire eyes. His voice was soft and gentle when he spoke to her, "What do you think of me? Tell me, do I frighten you?"
The girl trembled even more, something of his calm demeanour and nature seemed to terrorify the ten year old girl. Her voice sounded cracked, "You're very...pretty."
He heard the sincerity in her words, and for that he planned to reward her, before he used her. He knelt down in the cold snow. His gaze locked with the girl's. His golden eyes hypnotically placed the girl into a more calm state of mind. Her body ceased to tremble. His golden lips leaned forward. Lips shivering from the cold pressed against golden ones of the Wiccan. She then fell limp into his arms.
The golden haired Wiccan laid the girl upon the makeshift stone alter. He had not been in this area long. He had come here after being chased out by the villagers of Domiel Haven. The five remaining children in the cage were what he had gathered from the surrounding villages near the woods he had taken up new residence.
The chill of winter did not affect him as it did normal mortals. His powers and natural affinity with nature gave him endurance over the elements. He could see the girl still shivering with the cold, even in her dormant state. But soon, she would no longer have to worry about the cold of winter or the warmth of spring.
The Wiccan pulled forth the crimson handled dagger. He pricked his finger upon the tip of it. A solitary drop of blood dropped onto the girl's forehead. He pressed down upon it. When he pulled his thumb back from the brow, the blood spot was shaped into a six pointed star.
The dagger pressed against the side of her throat. He made a quick slashing movement as he chanted the ancient words. He then took up the wrists and engraved in two binding runes on each one as he continued to chant out the archaic language and concentrate upon his spellcraft. Tiny rivelets of blood trailed down the body and over the gray, stone alter. He placed the goblet under the draining blood, collecting it.
The Wiccan smiled as he chanted the final words of his leechcraft.
The child was quite beautiful if she had been cleaned up and allowed more finery. His eyes could see the vitality, purity, and pulchitrude that the girl had once held within her. And soon it would belong to him.
He let the small trickling blood to collect completely within his crsytal goblet, a silver spider turned upside down with the legs supporting the glass section of the vessel. A faint aura pulsated from the blood within the cup. The golden haired Wiccan took the blood filled goblet in both hands and drank deeply. The few wrinkles around his eyes and brow vanishing, adding youth and an unearthly attractiveness to the man. His golden hair shimmered under the rising sunlight. He felt his muscles strong and his mind even more clear then it had been in decades. He would deal with the hunter.
Orphean's index finger pressed into the snow as he drew up the large symbol of protection in the white snow, staining it red with blood from his pricked finger. It took him a good hour. He had the time. His firesight had given him the time of the arrival. He would be fully prepared for the hunter.
His golden eyes looked once more to the cage once the protection spell had been cast. He strode quickly over to it. He knew he would not have much time. It would have to be done quickly. Quickly made ones always seemed so much more hard to control then those made with patience and loving care.
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Mordecai did not ride a steed. He could not afford one, and one that would bear a pure blood Wiccan was rare. Only machines did not feel the power of his brethern's blood. So he walked through the forest trails. His instinct guiding him as he walked. He could almost smell the other by the innocent blood spilt in his wake.
The villagers had summoned him two weeks ago; but he had been in Zurichren dealing with a cunning werewolf. But with that contract finally finished he was cast out of the town with only half the money promised him. So he made his way to his next job. Few wanted Wiccans around; let alone ones with the mark of pureblood, golden eyes. Many were still even now burned at stakes if they refused to leave, forced to be drifters or hunters. There were few options open to those whom were born with the blood of the Wiccan. Many were shunned, and others fell into the powers of darkness easily.
He sensed the presence of strong, demonic auras. Mordecai felt something headed towards him. Then he heard the whistling cry on the wind. His rune engraved sword coming free from it's scabbard to strike down at the whistling wind, shaped like a cat with an almost child's face to it. The blade had passed through it as though it had sliced through air.
The hunter cursed recognizing the creature as soon as it escaped his blade unharmed, "Damn, a Guardian."
He knew what the Wiccan was planning. He needed to keep him from reaching before midnight tonight. He had no doubt the evil Wiccan had used the soul of an innocent to create the guardian spirit.
'The coward is using the souls of children not only for vile means; but also for his own petty self preservation. Such actions are truly unforgivable,' Mordecai had thought.
He quickly sheathed his blade as the cat shaped spirit with a child's face whistled towards him again. The fangs sank deep into his neck and drew forth the rich crimson liquid to spill down upon the hunter's chest.
Abruptly a silverish light came off his body as the Guardian spirit jerked back crying. But it was not some beastly cry as any mortal would expect from such a haunt. It was the crying of a small boy.
"Lost Lamb, allow me to send you upon the path of light." Mordecai calmly spoke as the cross around his neck continued to pulsate with it's silver metal towards the Guardian Spirit.
The Guardian sat upon it's four legs looking towards the hunter as tears flowed down it's face. It only gave a silent nod of the head.
Mordecai took the silver chain and cross from around his neck. He held it in his hands and pressed the cross to the brow of the other as he entoned the ancient holy words. Slowly parts of the spirit started to pulsate before vanishing off of the body until nothing stood before the chanting Wiccan.
The golden eyed youth clasped the silver chain; holding his cross once more over his neck. He started walking once more; but there was a determination now in his step. His nose and instinct following the smell of blood. The trees still densely grown around him. Shadows fell upon him from them. But he knew that there would be another creature coming for him soon. He knew that the dark Wiccan had captured a good deal of children from the villages in the surrounding areas of this forest, known only as the Northern Woods by those whom dwelt along it's edges. He halted for a second feeling tired from his wound. It had been mostly a spiritual attack. There was no blood upon him from the guardian's attack. That blood dripping from him had been in his mind. It was how some guardians thought; through mental attacks such as that. He leaned against the tree.
A hot wind wafted towards the golden eyed hunter. He sensed it coming towards him. He smelt and heard the crackling of burning trees as it drew near him. It was another Guardian. This one looked to be one made from fear and rage. They were not true Guardians. The dark wiccan obviously didn't have time for that. They were more demon then guardian.
There was no true form to this one. It seemed to be a blaze; melting snow and scorching earth beneath it.
Mordecai held forth his hands as he chanted out once more. His fingers forming ancient runes that he entoned. The fire raged against his trying to pacify the dark guardian spirit of rage and fear. It seemed to thirst for blood and vengeance. Mordecai sighed as he closed his eyes and held out his crucifix towards the being; keeping it at bay for the moment. The flames hissed at the sight of the cross. The same screaming head rolling upward into the crimson flames.
The hunter pulled out a small jar with enscriptions of ancient symbols upon it. He had gotten it from a castle he had slain a vampire from. The thing had come in use only once before. He was glad that he had decided to keep it. The symbols started to fade as he uncorked the lid. Holding the jar towards the spirit of rage and fear it sucked in the spirit. Bright red flames flickered inside the jar as he quickly corked it up.
'I suppose he shall send guardian after guardian to stale me from reaching him before his Hour, ' Mordecai thought logically to himself.
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He had few children left now to him. Orphean cursed at the sight before him in the burning child on the alter. His face looked with hatred upon this beautiful male, "Persistant bastard. My Guardians did not even seem a match for this Wiccan."
He walked over to the cage and away from the burning girl. He opened the lock once more and this time he took out the two twin boys. They were no more then fourteen years old, almost old enough to be on their own in another two years. He had the crying little brats by their hair and was dragging them towards the alter. They had resisted all his magic, unlike the other children he had captured and put to good use. These two he had kept for their resistence to his magic. He had not finished studying them. But such study would be pointless if he did it from hell. He threw them into the fire on the stone slab alter as they struggled against him.
Orphean spoke the arcane words of the darkest nether realms, "I offer you upon this sacred alter, stained in blood, the lifeforce of these beings. Hear me of darkness. Take forth this old life I lay upon your gaping maw and transform decaying flesh and burning blood into a protector from the depths beyond even what mortals call Hell."
The flames towered now over the figure; reaching ever higher into the sky. The black smoke blocking out the sun around his clearing. Screams of pain and agony came forth from the inferno. The two boy's voice cried out in pain. But it was no mortal cry. It was a cry of pain that sounded more demonic. It was an agony that no mortal had felt before and now it was coursing through the twins he had offered up to the darkest spirits of the Nether Worlds.
The dark wiccan laughed coldly as he watched his protector forged in the blood, flesh, and flames. The cold gone completely from the area. Only a burning heat that even his endurance could not take. His body perspiring greatly under his black robes.
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No snow, and only blackened trees around the clearing greeted him. Only an ungodly heat. Mordecai had not expected this. The wiccan that stood before him, had cast an arcane spell. He felt the very air crackling with it. Something truly evil had transpired in this place. Even the earth was barren and crying. Mordecai didn't even have to touch the ground to feel it's weeping at the horrors that had recently been here.
He saw the back of the wiccan, Orphean, towards him. He had not expected to reach the other before midnight. The other stood before a tower of fire, yet the dark clouds over the area offered no other source of light except the faint light the fire was giving off. Mordecai could feel very strange powers at work, by the hand of Orphean.
Mordecai raised his hand towards the protection circle surrounding the wiccan. It seemed very similiar in nature to the barrier's employed by the nobility. At the moment he didn't have any wolfsbane. He took out the small vial of glass from his pouch on his black belt. His teeth opened the vial as he threw the holy water onto the barrier circle. The air crackled around and within the barrier. However, the barrier held.
The golden haired Wiccan turned with a dark grin upon his face, the dragon shaped silver circlet upon the other's brow sparkle from the inferno's light. The two did not speak. They vaguely knew the thoughts of each other merely by looking at the body language.
Out of the inferno stepped forth a large black hoof. The hellbeast was like nothing he had ever seen before. He knew it for a demon; but he had never come across one this large before. The barrier shattered as the beast stretched forth it's wings of ash and smoke. The inferno had vanished to reveal this monstriousity.
He looked to the cages to find them all empty. Mordecai understood now. He had offered them up as a pact to protect himself. He used his long sword to draw a diagram around himself. It was a spell of protection. Silver light surrounded the wiccan then. A terrifying roar came from the throat of the barely human looking giant demon. Eyes of burning flames looked towards Mordecai. The diagram burned away into thin air.
Mordecai remained calm as the beast came towards him with murderious intent. His golden eye looked at the twelve foot demon as he came very fast at him. The hunter leaped out of the way as he felt Orphean appear at his side. He winced as he felt the knife jabbed into his back. He turned quickly using his sword to slash at the other. Blood squirted out of Orphean. His robes torn from shoulder to hip. Beneath his robes he had been wearing very little. His grazed skin partially showed. He snarled as he launched a flaming orb towards Mordecai. Mordecai quickly ducked it as it hit the monster charing once more towards him.
The hunter couldn't believe it. The beast had absorbed his master's attack.
Mordecai charged towards the oncoming demon. He leaped up at the grasping hand, landing on it and then quickly in a blur of motion was soon on the shoulder. His blade stabbed deeply into the brain; penetrating rock hard bone. Gray matter oozing out of the burning hot creature. Steam and smoke raised up from around his boots on the burnign hot creature. The monster started to fall. Mordecai leaped backwards and found himself being held by Orphean's grip.
A loud thud echoed across the ground upon the demon's fall.
Mordecai swallowed a large wad of spit as he felt the sacrificial dagger pressed against his own throat. He hit the handsome figure hard to the stomach and then mule kicked him once more to the stomach. He heard the dagger drop to the scorched ground.
He swiftly turned on his heel and slashed the head from the groaning dark wiccan. The body slumped foward as the head rolled away a few inches from the corpse. Mordecai walked towards the head. His stained white hands picked him up by his long golden hair. The golden color faded to white as did the eyes. A lifeless thing. Despite that the face upon that skull was truly beautiful, however the dark wiccan's soul was truly an ugly thing. He placed the head in an empty, burlap sack. He had finished his job. He knew he had failed. He had not rescued the children. That had been what he had been hired back in the villages for. He would only get a slight reward for destroying the wiccan. He would take his supper there and then move once more on the road.