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Rated: 13+ · Campfire Creative · Fiction · Fantasy · #1537771
Set in a middle-ages type of world, we must make due with magic and its consequences.
[Introduction] Set in the world of Fantasy, your characters must adapt to the fantasy world. They can be humans, elves, dwarves, fairy-kin, mer-people, or things of a darker origin... lycans, vampires, goblins, sprites, etc. But whichever side you come from... it doesn't necessarily decide which side your on. You can be a paladin, or a necromancer, or a knight, or a rogue, etc. Thing is, both sides want to rule the kingdom. This is a war, so you better come prepared... if you want to leave with all of your limbs.

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-There will be battles, but no extreme gore please
-Only made up cursing allowed.
-Please write reasonably sized additions. (At least a couple paragraphs.)
-You have four days to add.
-Have fun

Name: Dune Ataro

Race: Human/Vampire (psychic)

Age: 17

Appearance: 5'8" black hair and purple eyes. His skin is a little pale because of the vampire blood that runs through him, but its not extremely notable.

Clothing: Generally wears black, but he doesn't really realize he's doing it.

Abilities: Is stronger than any human, and has all the abilities of a vampire except that there not as heightened.

Personality: Dune is surprisingly upbeat for someone who has to deal with such prejudice. He has a carefree attitude about him and is a huge flirt. And the girls seem to like him, though we're not sure if its just because he's attractive or if it has to do with his vampiric side and powers.

History: His father a knight and his mother a vampire, you could say almost everything about him is unconventional. Dune is the only known human to have a vampire parent. He is allowed in the human associated area's but not necessarily welcomed. He wants to become a knight or a paladin, but has been unable to because of his mothers heritage. The nearby necromancers are always on the lookout for a way to get him to join them, because they think his powers would come in handy.

Other: Does need to feed off of people's energies but not as often as a full vampire would need to. (Is a psychic vampire, meaning he feeds off of people's energies and emotions, and not their blood.)
Note: In advance, sorry for all of the rambling I’ve put in this...I’ve been sick for ages and it’s kind of sent me crazy.

Name: Koray Qad

Race: Fire.....kind of burning...creature..thing. I’m not exactly sure what you’d call him??

Age: 17

Appearance: Human form- Tall, buff, good looking (of course). Gold eyes and coal black hair.

Clothing: Wear anything he finds on the floor, usually ends up looking pretty casual.

Abilities: Can transform into some fire creature thing, appearance below. He is always very hot (even in human form), which means he can withstand very cold temperatures, although when he gets beneath a temperature of 65degrees (Celsius, I’m an Aussie), he goes into lockdown mode, and can get very sick. When he is in ‘fire-form’ (that sounds kinda stupid, but I can’t think of anything else), he is a large creature that vaguely resembles a dog...just a very, very big one. He’s as tall as a 12’3 tree. Ha..ha ha. I thought it was funny...Anyway, he can manipulate fire, create it and vanquish it, no matter what form he’s in. And in ‘fire-form’, he can run very fast and has immense strength.

Personality: Just like fire, he can get very angry very quickly. Quick to jump to decisions and a fast thinker.

History: Parents were taken away from him by vampires at a young-ish age. (That’s right Sammi, my character isn’t going to like yours for once :P)

Other: Has some brothers with elemental types of abilities too, but he doesn’t know where they are.
(Bleh! I was sick all last week so I know how you feel about it making you a bit crazy. I've been the same.)



Name: Avlynn

Race: Yuxa

Age: 122 (but she looks and acts about 18)

Appearance: Human Form- about 5’4” with long silk black hair and yellow snake eyes. She is a pasty white color, except for her face, which looks like she has put makeup upon it.

Abilities: As any yuxa, when Avlynn turned 100 years old, she turned human with the ability to turn back into a snake whenever she desires. As a snake, Avlynn is a red emerald black striped snake.

Personality: Avlynn is a secretive and suspicious person. She doesn't trust many people, but the few she does she is very devoted to. Avlynn hates people who interrupt her as she is talking. Also she never will refuse a challenge.

History: Avlynn's life was normal while she was a snake, or it was for a little while until one day when she went to shed her skin and found herself to be human. The past 22 years have been a struggle for her as she tries to figure out who she is. As a snake she trusted no one, as a human she's learned that trust is sometimes necessary, but always carries suspicion.

Other: She can turn back into a snake at anytime, she just has yet to realize it.

(So sorry for being so late, my computer broke so I have to write whenever I'm at school or when I can borrow a computer from a my brother or a friend. Lots of rambling in this, I don't know why.)

Name: Caistia Ordel / Lona (her real name is rarely ever told, usually told to someone she is about to kill after a worthy fight as written in a warrior code she read about)

Race: Wing Elf

Age: 17 (very much a baby to her long-lived kin, although a grown teen to humans)

Appearance: 5'1" with long (very long) blue-ish white hair (uncommon among her people). Slightly pale due to her preference of night (also uncommon). She has black feathered wings(HUGE rarity among wings elves, thought to be evil) that span about double her arm span.

Clothing: Being an outcast of her kind, she tries to stay hidden. She is almost always wearing a black cloak that covers her entire body with a large hood that covers her face in shadow. At night, it is near impossible to see her face under the hood (unless of course the race sees well in the dark). Under the cloak she wears a loose kimono-like outfit(also black)that hides many different weapons strapped to her body.

Abilities: Well, flying for one. She can also hide her wings (they kind of get absorbed by her body) and once she does that she can run faster than usual(faster than any human anyway). Being a creature usually of the sky, she was blessed with power over air when she was born. She was never taught how to use it so the things she can do are very weak.

Personality: She's quiet, usually only giving one word answers to any question directed at her if she deems the question even worthy of answer. She is ready to attack everyone she sees just in case they attack her, so she is very tense. She trusts no one, and anyone that knows her (very very few) don't even try to gain it, knowing that it is near impossible to do. Not one of the few that know her have seen her smile, and she can't remember a time when she did.

History: When she was born, love was lavished on her. She never had a need or want for anything. However, it wasn't to last. When her tenth birthday came along and she released her wings for the first time, all the love stopped, replaced by suspicious looks and outright hate. Her wings were black, only two wing elves in history had black wings and they became bringers of death and war among the elves. She ran from her family and kin when she turned twelve after they decided that she must die for the good of their kind. Through-out the years she lived on the help of others until she was betrayed and sold off as a slave. She escaped almost immediately and vowed never to trust anyone that offered help.

Other: When someone comes and offers help, she may accept, but she will leave after a very short time. She travels as a lone mercenary most of the time and lives off money she gets from jobs. No matter what the job is, she'll do it if it can be done alone. Caistia is no stranger to killing. Her main weapon is a chain spear that is the only visible weapon on her person, strapped to her back.
Name: Onthrax
Age: 13
Gender: Male
Hair: Lot of black very shaggy hair over his head and chin. Done to ruff braids.
Eye’s: black
Height: 8’6”
Wight: 420
Race: orc
Looks: Green skinned, flat faced, huge and long armed, stump legged, and pure muscle.

Abilities: Onthrax can run for days at higher speeds then a horse and never get tired. While Onthrax is physically fit his true power is communing with the elements. They obey his command doing his will.

History: Onthrax is the shaman of his war chief Bash. Bash and Onthrax have been friends since a young age. The reason being Bash is the only orc to survive a direct hit from one of his elemental attacks. Bash and Onthrax aren’t often with there clan these days. There often away attacking other races. Only coming back to there clan to stash loot.

Gear: Onthrax wears a full suit of black dragon scales. The dragon had given him the scales after Bash and Him and persuaded the dragon that he no longer needed them. Onthrax also carries a two handed axe that is big to him that he calls Chopper.


Onthrax stood in the middle of a forest clearing. The horse under his foot was trying to get up to no effect. The clearing was littered with human bodies. Bash had ran into the forest after some that where trying to run away.

Raising Chopper over his head he brought it down separating the horse’s head from his body. Chopper sunk into the earth after passing though the horse’s neck.

Bash would probably be hunger when he got back and horse always made a good meal. Deciding on an action Onthrax started to hurl body’s out of the way to clear a space in the middle of the wreckage that was around him. Clearing a big enough space for what he wanted he looked around for some firewood.

Onthrax eye’s fell on the wagon that was with the humans. Nodding to him self he picked it up setting it in the center of the space he had cleared. Looking at the wagon he adjusted it to get it more centered in the space. Deciding it was good enough he went back for the horse.

Picking up the horse he set it under the wagon. He stopped under the wagon for a moment with the horse whispering to the earth. The earth shuddered and then moved. Shifting and rising it formed into a brick dome over the horse. Onthrax judged it for a moment then went back for Chopper.
Picking up his axe he set to work. Turning the wagon into kindling on top of the newly formed brick dome. It was quick work two minutes later the wagon was no more. Deciding that was good enough Onthax talked to the wood. It burst into flame making a nice little fire over his dome. Onthrax ugly face grinned showing all his pointed teeth. With that he turned to start gathering all the treasure he wound find on these humans.
A Non-Existent User
Name: Bash Ironfist

Age: 15
Gender: male
Hair: White a single point directly on top of his head. The rest of is scalp is bald
Eyes: Red
Height: 9’8’’
Weight: 560 pounds
Race: Orc

Look: Bash has dark green almost black skin and if Onthrax is big, bash is massive his muscles are exceptionally large even for somebody his size. His face is hideous the massive tusk like teeth protruding from his bottom lip make him look somewhat like a boar, just way uglier.

Abilities: like Onthrax he can run for days without rest and makes horses look slow
Other than his almost giant like strength and fighting skill he is an absolute intellectual when it comes to tactics and battle strategy, which in the more civilized kingdoms would be considered barbaric.

History: Bash has always bean a warrior, when he was a year old when he killed his first wolf. He is the biggest, ugliest and meanest Orc, alive which makes him perfect War chief material so when he was ten, he challenged the chieftain, and easily defeated him making his Chief and not long after he named Onthrax Master Shaman and they have bean wandering the land looking for wars to spoil and men to kill.

Gear: like Onthrax he wears dragon scale armor, and he also carries two dragon teeth that he carved and sharpened into swords witch are ten feet long.

Attitude: unlike his face Bash is a very sweet Orc that is of course if you are not his enemy. Although he is very smart when it comes to war, he is a simpleton when it comes to anything else.



Bash was at the moment under a shield, he was sitting under a shield in a hole in the road
Bash did not usually do that but it was a special occasion he was waiting for a battalion of knights they were most likely coming to see what had delayed there supply wagons,
The supply wagons that Bash and Onthrax had attacked a day ago. So this is why Bash: Mighty Orc Chieftain of the Bear clan was now, in a hole, in the road.

Bash heard a rumble he grinned broadly, and sunk lower into his hole to await the enemy,
The team of men thundered down the road Bash guessed there was about thirty, He sighed “It only be small fight” He regretfully whispered to him self, then suddenly a horse stepped on his shield, and Bash shot out of the hole throwing horse and rider clear across the road. Then after he had jumped clear of his hole he methodically began to destroy his enemy the fight lasted about twenty minutes and the poor knights never stood a chance. One of the knights at the back after seeing his comrades killed with what seemed like no effort he spun his charger and ran, Bash however caught the knight in just a couple strides and with his long sharp teeth bit the mans head off.

An hour later he found Onthrax he was cooking a horse Bash sat and waited for the animal to cook and after it had Onthrax cut it in half with Chopper and they ate contentedly “So was it a good fight?” asked Onthrax Bash nodded.
“Yah cant wait till more come Bash still wana kill.”
Name: Axhaxal, Demon of Sin

Race: Over Demon, Sin Incarnate

Age: Claims to be as old as the first Sin ever committed.

Appearance: Axhaxal can either be in one of two forms, his lesser powered, but devilishly coercive human form, or his greater, Demon form.

The human form is small and thin, with limbs that barely look like they could stand the weight of his own body. His hair would be cut up to three inches in length, and would be of a copperish auburn color. His skin is peachy, on the verge of tan, and he dresses impeccably in the finest garments he can obtain. Perhaps most oddly, his eyes are not of any normal hue. They are bright sanguine, and if stared into for too long, you'd feel as if he is piercing your very soul.

Demonized, however, Axhaxal's limbs expand to at least twice their size, and his skin becomes more crimson than any other color, with tones of peach. His hair, as if becoming a sentient entity of itself, becomes unruly, and wavers all over at the slightest hint of movement.

Abilities: Like any good Demon, he has numerous legions of Hell to call upon in any situation, but he is extremely adept himself at all forms of combat. Being the Demon of all the Capital Sins in general, (Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth, Greed, Anger, and Pride) one glance at any person will tell him exactly every wrong doing they've ever committed, and the more sins they've done, the more power he has to feed off of. He can also bend Sin to his will, to form weapons of pure sinful energy. One swipe with one would completely corrupt even the most noble of warriors into the ultimate committer of the respective sin.

Secondly, and only in his Demon form, he can become completely intangible to enemy physical attacks, while still be able to fight back. However, magic would work twice as well against him while he's like this, so he uses this power sparingly. He is regarded in the Demon world as one of the most powerful, and can bend just about any other living creature to his will, given enough time. He knows of all your hearts darkest desires, no being pure enough to be unfoulable by his corrupting touch, and can give you false promises of fulfilling your monstrous dreams.

Personality: Axhaxal is extremely war-like, yet prefers not to sully his own hands if he can avoid it. Yet he craves the challenge of combat like an addiction. In addition to being the Demon of Sin, he is also the Demon of Contradictions and Desires, and can flip from one perspective to another in a heartbeat. Sometimes he'll act in ways that seam random and pointless, but there is method to his madness ninety nine percent of the time. When in Human form he is ESPECIALLY manipulative and dangerous, as his ability to coerce is most powerful while human. He enjoys being able to toy with the hearts and souls of men, regarding them as mere playthings to his power. He can be overconfident, almost to the point of narcissism, about his security in immortality, as although he can be killed in battle, he will return to "life" in the physical sense, in a few hundred years, as sin can never truly die. Only if every heart of every man were to be free of all sins, even if for but one measly second, could he perish truly and eternally.

History: Born when the first sin ever was committed, Axhaxal lived a Demon Overlord's life, a life of comfort, immortality, and the endless joy of torturing all other living beings. He enjoyed playing with the desires of Man, often leading them to war and murder in hopes of fulfilling their darkest wishes. He now, however, tires of living in the shadows, being the puppet master and behind the scenes. Axhaxal now wants to rule over the planet and Man as its direct and Eternal Dictator, and is willing to go through hundreds of souls to do it. There is no length he wouldn't stoop to achieve his own desire, after millennia of hearing Man's own yearnings.

Other: It is foretold in a Prophecy of Old, (However cliché that may sound) that the Demon of Sins would up heave the world, and only through the gathering of a group of Heroes committed to vanquishing Sin for all time could have a chance at defeating the Sin Incarnate.
Name: Ta’ok

Race: Saurian (A Race of Lizard Men native mostly to the warmer and tropical areas of this world, believed to be sentient descendants of either the Great Dragons or more likely the Predatory Dinosaurs which inhabit the Jungles, and view other races with a mixture of respect and caution.)

Age: Equal to 20 Human Years of Age.

Appearance: 6’0 and hairless with thick scaly skin and a pair of silted yellow reptilian eyes on either side of his head. Sharp rowed teeth, though his tongue is mostly humanoid. Often has an assortment of his clan’s war paint across his chest and arms.

Clothing: A rugged assortment of tattered clothing designed to allow for blending into various environments, his general outfit being one suited for forest and jungle terrain. He also carries light armour to wear under his clothing, made to be just light enough to be speedy and encumber-some but also strong enough to provide some level of protection.

Abilities: Saurians are trained virtually from birth to be the ultimate warriors and use all their natural abilities to their advantage in a bid to outwit other species which might rely on magical or technological powers to make themselves better. Like most of his race, Ta’ok is part of the Warrior Class and uses his sharp claws, sleek tail and brutal strength to fight. However, in recent centuries Saurians have recognised Technology to a certain extent to be useful if only the natural gifts are not to be forgotten, thus he is trained in virtually all means of non-magical weapons, like the crossbow, long sword and bow and arrow, and carries such objects in a specially designed backpack and belt bag. Ta’ok as a Bounty Hunter is well versed in trap making and has the tools to create them with enough time. The only ability that Saurians do not possess is any kind of magic, which they consider weak and cowardly; as with all his race, Ta’ok both hates and fears magic, though he has defeated several magical users in the past.

Personality: Ta’ok, as a Bounty Hunter of one of the stronger Guilds, is ruthless and can display little emotion through his reptile eyes, however whilst he is supposed to be a creature for hire for the highest bidder he often finds he cannot abide injustice and cruelty to those who cannot defend themselves, and he often displays elements of a knight in these circumstances, something the large majority of his species does not do. As far as trust goes, Ta’ok is more likely to place his faith and respect to those of reptile blood, particularly that of his own race. He finds humans untrustworthy, elves high and mighty and slaves to magic, and Orcs disgusting cowards who rely on stronger minds to control them. He has great respect for Dwaves however, as they share many of the ethics and warrior spirit that the Saurians have. As stated above, Taok hates and fears magic and anyone who might possess it. In any case however, if a person can get Ta’ok to trust and respect them, they will likely have it for life; these are the people the Saurian can consider friend.

History: From an early age Ta’ok was gifted by the Saurian Elders to be strong and powerful, and in his twenty blood cycles he has striven to become one of the most respected and feared Bounty Hunters of his generation. His father was like him and fell in battle against a vast army of Dark Creatures when Saurian and Humans banded in war, and Ta’ok has vowed to follow in his clawsteps. Ta’ok tends to travel across the world, accepting assignments of varying needs, in exchange for decent sums of money which he uses to survive and also create an ever greater assortment of weapons designed for his personal use.

Dune walked casually through the forest.

Because of his excellent hearing, the sounds of his pursuer were not lost on him. But it caused him little worry.

He eyed all of the flowers that were in bloom, and the green of the grass and tree's, and could have sworn, even though everyone said it was impossible, that he was getting energized by the life force of the flora.

He walked around a tree, took a few steps forward, and then jumped back.

His pursuer had excellent senses of smell. Unfortunately for it, it always seemed to follow the smell directly, wether or not it would lead it to Dune, or just take it in circles. Which is what Dune was doing to it right now.

He flew up into a nearby tree and waited.

Soon enough he saw his pursuer, a dog that seemed to be made out of flames.

It slowed and sniffed where he had walked.

Dune smiled to himself when it had walked the circle three times.

It had been chasing after him for days, although he had the slightest clue as to why it would want to. After all, the first time he'd encountered it, it had already been following his trail, but he had never seen it before that. So surely it couldn't have some sort of vendetta against him? Maybe it just found his scent curious.

Either way, Dune decided to stay unseen for now, just in case its intentions were hostile.

It sniffed and sniffed, paused... and then sniffed some more.

It was kind of cute, and Dune thought to maybe hug it someday, except for the fact that it was, of course, on fire.

Dune frowned as the flowers and grass around it withered and died in the presence of its heat.

Poor flowers...

But then he got another idea.

Would the dog know he was going in circles if Dune connected the path he'd taken the past few days?

It wasn't like it was hard to notice, seeing as everywhere this thing went it left a trail of dead plants behind it.

Maybe he would do that...

Finally seeing enough of the dog, he took of flying again and soared just a little bit above the tree's.

He absolutely loved flying. In fact, other than the recent occurrence of watching the strange fire dog in its attempts to track him, it was what he spent most of his time doing.

He went into town ever so often... but only that much. He wasn't welcome there, to be stated kindly.

As Dune landed in another part of the forest, he noticed that it was eerily quiet.

He took a few steps forward, his boots barely making a sound on the soft earth.

A sound made him turn quickly... only to find that there wasn't anyone there.

Suddenly he found himself breathing in a life force, of such a power that he had never encountered before.

His head turned up he walked forward a few more steps, this time involuntarily.

Every sniff he took, he could feel himself getting stronger. It was almost making him high.

Behind a tree a man stepped out. He was thin, tan, and dressed in beautiful and very expensive looking clothes. Dune, having peculiar colored eyes himself immediately noticed the mans sanguine ones.

Other than the fact that this man had an incredibly strong power aura, he didn't seem that he could be all human.

"Hello." The man said, taking a step towards him.

Dune, getting a bad feeling, took a step backwards and ended up bumping into something hard and smelly.

He looked up and yelled when he found the it was an orc, and he stumbled a few feet away from it.

"Oh, you don't need to fear them." The man said. "Their on our side."

"What do you mean, our side?" Dune asked.

"I can make anyones dreams come true." The man said, throwing his hands grandly in the air. "Yet all they want is violence." He shrugged. "Silly, but it comes in handy."

"Who are you?" Dune demanded, making sure he was at least an arms length from the two orcs.

"You don't know? Honestly what do they teach you these days-?" He muttered. "I am Axhaxal, your master."

"No one is my master." Dune growled.

"You are a creature of the night, therefore, you belong to me." Axhaxal said.

"I said that I belong to no one!" Dune cried, throwing his arm to the side and breaking a small tree in half.

Axhaxal seemed to be breathing in his emotions. "Ah, anger. I am the father of anger."

Dune looked from his hand to the tree that he'd destroyed. He- he hadn't meant to-

"Your a very angry individual, aren't you, Dune Ataro?"

"How do you know my-?"

"When I was banished from this plane last time I had little else to do but watch. And been watching you I have." Axhaxal took another step forward.

"Why do you feel you need to protect the humans?" He continued. "After all they've done to you." He pulled out some chains from his robes and Dune flinched.

"My daughter is sick!" the woman cried, as half of the town looked on. "She was last seen with th-this demon child we have let live in our town!" The woman pointed at Dune. "She was walking with him like she was under some kind of spell! Its him I tell you!" Dune, instead of flying off, tried to reason with the woman, but it wasn't any use.

"Please, I haven't done anything to this girl!" Dune cried.

Two men came up behind him and chained him to the public humiliation post.

He was hit by tomatoes, and rocks.

"Please! Listen to me!"

But no one was listening.


"Every time something bad happened, a person was ill, an animal was missing... who did they blame?" Axhaxal said, the chains clinking together as he walked.

Dune walked along the street, kicking a pebble out of his way. The day hadn't gone particularly well. He'd been in class when the teacher fainted from heat, and someone said that he'd been looking at her, and that he was the one who did it. He'd been kicked out of school. He wasn't going to be able to come back.

"Hey, look who it is." A familiar but not welcome voice made Dune look up.

Ferith was 18, big, mean, and about as smart as a donkey. He also thought it made him look cool when he and his friends picked on the "vampire kid".

"What you did to our teacher? Uncool." He continued.

Dune rolled his eyes. "We both know I'm not the one to blame."

"Oh yeah? I heard she gave you a bad grade last week." Another boy sneered.

"I- I'm not good at reading." Dune said. It was true. Every time he read something the letters got mixed around, confusing him.

"What's so hard about reading? 'The man used his plow'." Ferith said, speaking in a mocking tone.

"Stop it." Dune growled.

"Or what? You going to make us faint like the teacher?"

"Ugh!" Dune swung at him, able to break his jaw easily, but not intending to do much damage.

Ferith dodged it and punched him in the face, nocking him to the dirt, his friends laughing.

"C'mon. Lets teach him a lesson he wont forget." Ferith said.

Dune was just getting up to his hands and knees when he was kicked in the ribs.

He let out a cry of pain and fell down again.

They each had a shot at him, kicking, hitting, until Ferith stopped them.

"Lets just leave him here to think about it, huh?"

He pulled out some chains and shackled Dune's wrist to a tree.

"Ugh." Dune tugged against the chains as they walked off, laughing.

"Help!" He cried.

He shouldn't be this pitiful. But he could break chains made out of silver.

He cried the whole night until someone found him in the morning.


Dune shook his head, trying to shake the memories out of his mind.

"Why didn't you just snap their necks?" Axhaxal said. "It would have been easy."

"Because that would make me a monster." Dune growled.

"You already are one."

"No!" Dune pulled out his sword and swung at him, but he was incredibly quick, and slashed Dune's arm with a small dagger.

Dune dropped his sword as he held his arm, the small cut was smoking.

"Silver." Axhaxal said simply.

Dune just sucked in air painfully. He would heal from normal wounds quickly, except ones that were made by silver. In fact it was the only substance that could kill him.

"Now, have I made everything clear?" Axhaxal asked as Dune looked up with a tear streamed face. "Are you ready to accept me as your master?"
          "For you see, a war is brewing...and the creatures of darkness must band together, as what is right...you're allegiance to the realm of light is touching, but let's not forget those cruel in the world. I can see your darkest wishes...you'd love nothing more than to punish the damned fools who hate you for no reason other than what you are...so what do you say? There is only one letter difference between the words Friend and Fiend...What shall I be to you?" Axhaxal cooed as he locked his bloody sanguine eyes into Dune's.

         Dune snarled suddenly and spat into the face of Axhaxal, then raised a leg to knee him in the gut. "How's that for an answer? I'll never be a monster...nor a slave." Axhaxal merely grunted, stood up, and brushed the dirt off of his fair arms and patted his clothes clean.

         "Oh, for shame. You really don't have a clue as to who I really am then, do you? My, my, many things change after a hundred years or so...Back then nearly everyone would know my name..."

          "Oh yeah? Well then why not enlighten me?" Dune challenged, his arm still in pain, but knew that if this guy could be tricked once, he could be killed. "Who are you really?" Axhaxal turned slowly around and manifested a rapier in his hand.

          "Right. I'll tell you. In riddle." He waved the thin blade in the grass and burnt the message into the very earth, chanting it while he meticulously inscribed it.

What sleeps in the hearts of men, and wakes in the dead of night? What calls you to do things wrong, even when you know it's not right? These seven are to be feared, you see, for none can escape their grasp of thee?

Finished, Axhaxal stepped a few feet away, and spun the blade around in his hand. "I am not to be made a fool of, Dune...If you will not come willingly, I shall be forced to-AAAAUUUUG!!!" he bellowed, like a beast of burden being whipped by a skinner.

          Dune watched, in hopeful relief, as a canine of flames reared its mighty maw and sunk its deadly fangs into Axhaxal's flesh, which seared and started to burn. "GET! HIM! OOOOOOOOOFFFF!!!!” he shouted, apparently at the dumbfounded Orc, who had been busy cleaning his nostrils of any unsightly refuse, stared hopelessly at the beast before running off, scared for his own life. Dune silently thanked his lucky stars and made his escape, fleeing from the maniac named Axhaxal. The flaming dog, as soon as seeing Dune run, released his hold of Axhaxal and set off, hunting Dune down once more. Axhaxal himself grasped his side and plunged the rapier into the ground in anger.

          "Damn...missed my chance..." He stared at the sword sunk into the ground. "Dear Mercurial...my faithful blade...do not worry...your fouling edge will taste that Vampire's flesh soon..."
A Non-Existent User
Name: Aoi

Race: Faery-kin

Age: 5 (more on that later)

Appearance: 3'10, which is short even for a faery. Long sleek blonde hair, thin and petite and pretty.

Clothing: Skirts and dresses and things made of flowers and such. You know, shtandard. (<--Austin Powers reference ^^)

Abilities: Flower Power. Not kidding. Also knows things about charms and herbs and things.

Personality: While she is small and cute and such, Aoi is also fearless, brave, determined, and can kick butt when she wants to. It's kind of weird, but she can get quite fierce.

History: Aoi comes from a large and respectable faery family, but since the start of the war, her people have scattered and her parents, ten sisters, and four brothers were killed. She is determined to avenge them.

Currently extinguished. DOES NOT mean it won't be rekindled.

The End!

© Copyright 2009 Wiskers, `lemur`, Barbara Alive, Taiah, SquishMeSlowly, xx-xx, TSC, Derek Metaltron, xx-xx, (known as GROUP).
All rights reserved.
GROUP has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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