Nobles and Beggars: Chapter 4 *Part 1*

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[WARNING: Contains very strong language, therefore the 18+ rating]
Sorry that this took so long guys (and girls), but it took me a while to find the inspiration. So here it is finally, enjoy! ^^

Federico D'Alsone was bored. Bored out of his mind and yawning; the steady clanking of his iron-shod feet on stone was the only thing keeping him entertained.

One would think that employment in the Duke's own guard would be a colorful life; the truth was: no-one is stupid enough to attack the estate - or fortress, which ever one appeals. The only man he had ever subdued in his three years of endless patrolling had happened to be out of his damn mind - and truly suicidal.

The empty corridors felt haunted at the late hour; Federico shuddered as a chill crept up his spine. Was he imagining it, or were the daunting pools of shadow groping at him? Damned if he knew all the sorts lurking in these desolate reaches.

Clank, clank, clank.

He shifted his spear to its correct angle at his shoulder.

Clank, clank, creak, clank.

Federico irritably checked the visor of his helmet; the rusty thing always creaked. Nothing seemed out of place though, so he gave it a parting fist and resumed his patrol.

Clank, clank, creak, creak, clank.

The sound echoed in the shady corridor. Federico's hands tightened around the shaft of his spear on reflex. This wasn't his visor. A door stood slightly ajar a dozen paces forward, inviting a trickle of light into the musky tunnel. The angle was slowly widening as the heavy oak was being carefully nudged open. A rasping moan bounced off the walls, and the door slid open a couple of inches more.

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Federico leveled his spear at the door. He took halting step after halting step, for his knees had turned to rubber – a very clanky rubber.

Clank... Clank... Crreeaakk... Clank... Clank.

Ten feet away. He adjusted the fit of his helmet. Six feet away. The length of blackened wood trembled like a spear in the hands of someone shitting their pants. Four feet.

Crrreeeaaakkk...

He stopped two feet away, a very sure stabbing distance.

”S-state...” Federico paused for an audible gulp. ”Your b-bus...” Another gulp. ”Business in t-the h-halls... of the... the Duke.”

Silence greeted his stuttered command. Federico could hear his heart drumming away in his chest, his pulse topping that of a drowning man's. The rythym was pounding in his head, and he gripped the shaft so hard his whitened knuckles cracked with small pops. Then a quiet moan.

Gathering every reserve of courage inside him, Federico inched forward with a scrape of metal on stone, crouching into a low guard. He hooked the shaking tip of metal around the door's edge and slowly pulled on it.

Crrrreeeeaaaakkkk...

Half-way open, a sudden force jerked the weapon out of his petrified fingers. This time, he truly did soil his pants. Not a sound left him; he was beyond rational fear. Federico fumbled for his sword hilt, not finding it at first. Fingers gripping aroundst soft leather at long last, he hastily yanked the blade out of its scabbard. The tip hit the rough wall, the resulting metallic ringing rebounding in his head.

Steadying the one-handed Chimera in two hands – and failing miserably – Federico counted to six in his head, taking deep drags of too dense air. Reaching six, he threw open the door with a wordless scream, flailing about with his sword. He felt its edge meeting resistance and hacked at the source wildly, madly. Froth danced on his lips; a mad sheen was reflected on his irises by a torch on the wall.

His strength deflated with his lungs. The leaden weight of the sword hit the floor with a clatter, causing Federico to start in alarm. He glanced at his empty, nerveless fingers and at the silver glint of steel on the ground. A dark chuckle escaped him.

He surveyed the carnage he had wrought upon a trio of menacing demon-spawned broomsticks and the chuckle grew into a high-pitched laughter, mingled relief and madness. His coarse throat mangled the sound, and a fit of coughs overtook him. Tears of relief poured down his face, stinging drops of salt in his eyes.

”Aaw, f- fuck me with a sledgeh- hammer,” Federico sobbed bitterly. ”Jumping at fucking... fucking shadows.”

A shy finger wiped away a tear from his cheek. Federico recoiled from the touch as if burned. Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he lifted his gaze – and screamed.

Staring back at him was a face pale with death, one eye gouged out and dangling out of the gory socket on a thin chord of flesh. A ragged cut ran across its lips, the gleaming white of tooth showing through the shredded skin – a permanent sneer of hatred.

Federico scrambled backwards on his hands and knees, his lungs gaining awful strength due to the bloody visage trembling just on the edge of shadow. His eyes bulged out and his throat felt bloody, but his terrible scream still came in sharp pants as the figure lifted his tear to its mouth, moaning in sick pleasure.

Its head turned on him, the intact eye seemingly staring right through him. The corpse swayed violently as if caught in a sudden tempest, and it swooped closer and closer, until the two were face to face.

On the winds of rotting flesh and mold, a soft whisper entered Federico's frozen consciousness.

The shadows...” Back and forth swung the bleeding eye. ”...don't scare you then?

The words were like an axe through Federico's numbed state. With a howl of agony and torture, he scrambled around on his back until he untangled his limbs from underneath him. He tried to get up, failed, and crawled a foot before digging his bloody nails into the grooves of the wall, forcing his way up.

Leaning on the wall for support, Federico hauled his shrieking form forward without casting one look back. Hand after shaking hand on the scraping wall. Once around the corner, he flew into an aimless sprint, wanting nothing more than to put as much distance between himself and the demon in the closet. Step after leaden step he ran for endless minutes.

A sudden burst of illumination caught him off-guard and he collapsed onto the ground, clutching at the blades of grass as if they were actual swords. Blades to put in between him and that--

”Make it stop!” Federico's cry of agony cut through the thick night, sending crows cawing into the starlit sky.

Back in the closet, lips drew over a dull white crescent - a sickening grin from the shadows.
***
Last edited by WaitingForLife on Mon Jan 31, 2011 6:23 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Call me crazy; I prefer 'enjoys life while one can'.
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The pen's mightier than the sword - especially when it's wielded by a flipmothering dragon.
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Okay, I finally got to the 4th XD ..Btw, I don't know if you've seen it, but when you go and see your novel, you have the link for chapter 3 twice. Just thought I should tell you.
Now on to reading..

WaitingForLife wrote:Half-way open. A sudden force jerked the weapon out of his petrified fingers.

I think you should put this into one sentence; Half-way open, a sudden force [...]

WaitingForLife wrote:He surveyed the carnage he had wrought upon a trio of menacing demon-spawned broomsticks and the chuckle grew into a high-pitched laughter, mingled relief and madness. His coarse throat mangled the sound, and a fit of coughs overtook him. Tears of relief poured down his face, stinging drops of salt in his eyes.

LOL!

WaitingForLife wrote:The words were like an axe through Federico's numbed state. With a howl of agony and torture, he scrambled around on his back until he separated his limbs from one another. He tried to get up, failed, and crawled a foot before digging his bloody nails into the grooves of the wall, forcing his way up.

The sentence in orange kind of mixed me up. The way you described it, him separating his limbs, I thought you meant he'd litterally split his body parts, or that the demon-shadow had cut him apart. I had to re-read it a couple of times to get it. Maybe just phrasing it a little differently would help :P

Other than what I've said, I got no other nit-picks. It was a good chapter, although kind of creepy, but still good. I liked Fred - even though he's a big wuss - so it was funny to see him get worked up, then think there's nothing and then seeing him go beserk over the demon-shadow. Whatever you call it XD .. Anyways, it was definitely entertaining!

You can PM me again for the next part,
Spitfire ;)
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Punctuation is the difference between "Let's eat, Grandma" and "Let's eat Grandma".




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Thanks for the review! ^^

Yeah, I noticed the double-link thingy myself. It just doesn't let me fix it; I've no clue why. :D
I'll change those things you mentioned. Glad you liked it! ^^ I'll be sure to throw a PM your way too.

|Life|
Call me crazy; I prefer 'enjoys life while one can'.
-------
The pen's mightier than the sword - especially when it's wielded by a flipmothering dragon.
-------
◥▶◀◤



You cannot have an opponent if you keep saying yes.
— Richard Siken