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Hunter of Dead

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Join date : 2009-03-05
Age : 42
Location : San Diego, CA

Hunt the Dead #7 Empty
PostSubject: Hunt the Dead #7   Hunt the Dead #7 EmptyMon Jul 12, 2010 3:51 pm

Hunt the Dead #7 35804_138329362844689_122530774424548_399945_1571957_n

[/i]Written by Craig DeBoard
Cover Art by Byron Rempel

Chapter 1
Cutting the Deep

Turk'en fell to the ground. The ice axe, Frost-Cutter lay on the ground beside him. Trinity stood over him. She wore all black leather, and her long black hair was the color of the darkest night. Her pale skin was unblemished and her cold gray eyes were lifeless. This was a woman with no feeling, no emotion, no caring. A perfect member of Acaetus Nimius.

The dark elf, Turk'en moaned in pain. Trinity leaned down next to him and mounted herself on top of him. She slowly pulled a dagger out of one of her black leather boots.

Gently, she pressed the blade to Turk'en's throat. The blade slid down to his leather armor. She then slowly began un-clipping the various buckles that held the leather armor together.

Slowly she removed the armor and glanced at the chest of the darkling. His ashen, dark gray skin contrasted with the frozen, frosty ice-blue cut down the center of his chest. The wound was frozen shut and due to the magical properties of the axe would be forever frozen. It didn't mean the blow didn't hurt like hell though.

Turk'en moaned more.

"Shhh," Trinity whispered gently gliding the knife across his dark skin.
She brought the dagger directly over his heart and firmly but slowly began to press down.

"Geh....ahhh....AHHH NO!!!" Turk'en screamed realizing what was happening.

"Shh shh shh....it's almost over," Trinity whispered.

"NO! NO! Please don't!" Turk'en screamed in pain as the knife pierced flesh and began to dig in.

Trinity smiled.

The blade sunk in an inch.

"GAHHHH!!!!!!" he wailed, tears streaming down his face, blood pooling in his mouth.

"Shhh, calm down....heroes don't live forever....no one lives forever," Trinity whispered, leaning down gently kissing the darkling.

The blade sunk deeper.

Her lips tasted like motor oil, and felt like razor blades. Her free hand gently caressed the darkling's throat and began to squeeze.

The blade sunk deeper.

Ripping through muscle and tendon.

Turk'en didn't scream anymore. He just kissed. Anything but screaming. It was putrid. She tasted of corpse ashes and rotted worms. But still he kissed, their tongues meeting in a sick version of passion and hatred. This woman was vile. But still he kissed. Anything was better than screaming for her. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction. He would die. He knew he would. But he would die knowing he was defiant until the end. She tasted like chalk and dust.

She squeezed his throat harder with her free hand. He felt himself growing dizzy. So dizzy.

And so he kissed more. Defiant until the end. Never give up. Never give in.

He refused to scream.

Trinity felt the blade meet breast bone. All it would take was one forceful push and it would be over. His suffering would end.

His lips tingled. Her lips burned. A small nibble here on his bottom lip, and tiny moan there against her upper lip.

It would all end.

His life would end.

Defiant until the end.

"GRAHHH!!!" the darkling screamed in rage pulling away from Trinity's kissing.


He headbutted the woman directly in the nose, shattering it and sending blood spraying! She fell off of him, screaming in rage and holding her broken and bloody nose.

Turk'en slowly pushed himself to his feet, the dagger still stuck in his chest.

Trinity stared at him with hatred.

He spoke in a raspy voice; "OK sweetheart.....time for round two."

Chapter 2
Delusions of Dementia

Erron lay on the ground, shattered glass beneath him. Blood trickled from his mouth and he instantly knew the fall had cracked ribs. He rolled over to his stomach and Assassinator ran toward him.


Erron glanced the assassin's way.

A huge horde of undead were running into the city behind him. Two of the undead were gaining on him. Erron got to his feet just as Assassinator was running past him from the undead.

Erron reached out with both hands and grasped the assassin by the throat with both hands, from behind, and swung him toward the two undead.

Erron fell to the ground and Assassinator flew through the air and crashed into the zombies. Several of the horde pounced on the assassin ripping him apart. Erron scrambled to his feet holding his aching ribs and began limping and running as fast as he could.

The horde chased him and eventually dispersed all across the city attacking anyone the could find. Erron ducked into a building that was half demolished from a catapult blast. The building looked to have once been a small general store.

The screams from the townsfolk outside were deafening. Now there was no Acaetus Nimius against the Knights of Tomath. Now it was just every person struggling to survive. Erron took off his trenchcoat and removed his leather armor. His bare chest exposed revealed not only scars covering him from a plethora of battles, but a rib protruding out of his flesh. Erron grimaced at the horrid wound, knowing that he would need someone to take care of it soon.

Erron thought back to when he first lost his wife to the unending hordes of walking dead. He had suffered a wound then as well, a broken kneecap. While attempting to flee the horde he had slipped down a ravine and while tumbling, cracked his knee directly on a large boulder. He had laid in the bottom of that ravine for quite some time. Not only was he forced to re-set the bone himself, but he also had to dress the wound himself.

Waiting for someone else to take care of the wound wouldn't suffice. There was too much pain. Just far too much.

"Looks like it hurts," came the deep voice.

Erron spun and from one of the dark corners of the ruined shop Browden stepped forth.

"I see how you look at her," Browden whispered, smiling.

"What?" Erron said glancing at the wound again.

"The Captain. I've seen the two of you. Her wanting to show me love...and you with your eyes....those sick sick eyes," Browden replied, drawing his large battle axe.

"I don't have time for this," Erron muttered in annoyed tones.

"MAKE TIME!" Browden shouted angrily. "YOU WILL MAKE TIME FOR ME! SHE IS MINE!" Browden screamed and frothed at the mouth.

Erron stared silently at Browden.

"We're in love you see, Hellcat and I. When we lie alone in bed at night we tell each other of our hopes, our dreams, our desires, our fears. She is mine and I am her's. I can't let you continue to look at her like you do," Browden continued, shifting the weight of the axe in his hand.

Erron glanced at the wound again then back to Browden.

"Yes....you know what I mean. You and your lustful eyes toward her," Browden continued.

"Are you done yet?" Erron asked with caustic tones.

Browden seethed and stormed toward Erron but stopped just short of Erron's reach.

"IS THIS A JOKE TO YOU?! You come to our ship?! You give orders to us! And now you mean to replace me and steal her love away!!" Browden shouted angrily slamming his fist onto a broken counter sending wood chips flying.

Erron stood silent.

"I'm going to kill you, Erron. I'm going to kill you and then I'm going to deliver your corpse to Captain Hellcat personally. And she will love me for it. I'm going to kill you and there's nothing you can do to stop me," Browden said in violent tones through gritted teeth.

Erron's fist clenched.

Chapter 3
Nothing But A Ringing

Aldion pushed himself from the ground. He couldn't hear anything at all except a loud ringing in his ears.

He fell over and grunted and pushed himself to a sitting position. What happened? Had he--? Yes...yes he did.

The ringing subsided.

"Stupid Leif....shouldn't have ever let him blow up those kegs of gunpowder," Aldion said to himself ignoring what had really happened. The elf reached for Reaver, his magical scythe that would mysteriously always return to his hand whenever he needed it. Using the shaft of the weapon he pushed himself up from the ground. For the most part he seemed unscathed and had just been thrown really far from the explosion. He quickly checked to make sure he was alright and after doing so let out a sigh of relief.

Then he noticed it. The most vile creature he had ever encountered sat giggling at him.

Punky the Moneky.

"YOU SHUT UP!" he yelled at the monkey.

The monkey continued to giggle and gave a large smile pointing at Aldion's head.

"What?! What's so-" Aldion stopped speaking, trying to run his fingers through his hair.

Or what had once been his hair.

"Th' hell???" he muttered.

All of Aldion's hair had been fried off from the explosion. He was bald.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" he yelled in anger.

The monkey continued to laugh.

"Oh no. No no no," he mumbled and gently touched his eyebrows.

Those had been burnt away as well.


Chapter 4
The Anger of Lehti

Leif ran as fast as he could. Four undead chased him, one of which was missing an arm.

"Ohgodohgodohgod!" the druid moaned as he sprinted down an alleyway.

The alleyway itself wasn't very wide and the stone paved road was slick with grime and blood. Corpses were all across Peregren. people were being slaughtered everywhere. But this alley way with a large cathedral on one side and another large brick building on the other side had a large group of corpse at the end of it. A pile of them. The stench was awful. The pile of dead bodies meant it was a dead end. Which made Leif wonder what had brought all of the corpses into the alley.

Seeing the dead end, he turned around, the undead didn't slow and rushed right at him.

"Ohnonononono!" he cried as they pounced taking him to the ground.

"NO!" he yelled in terror.

"NO!!!!" he screamed in a voice not his own.

A pillar of flame shot into the sky sending the zombies that had been on Leif flying into the air and falling back to the ground as nothing more than burning embers.

Leif pushed himself up, his eyes glowing an eerie orange color and himself surround in flame that didn't seem to burn him at all.

"Ahhh....finally. that worm, Leif has been shut out. Only Lehti remains," the crazed druid said looking at his hand curiously as flames danced across his fingertips.

The pile of bodies behind him shifted. Lehti turned at the noise and the pile of bodies seemed to explode sending grime, gore, and body parts flying everywhere. All of it though burnt up upon touching the flames that surround Lehti. In the piles place stood a skinny, starved and crazed zombie. It seemed to shake uncontrollably. These types of undead were rare and most believed them to just be tall tales.

They were called Exploders, and were known to rush their victims and due to eagerness, or perhaps rage, none really knew, would explode all over their intended victim. If their target had their eyes opened or their mouth opened or any visible and open wounds and the gore of the Exploder made contact, the person could be infected with the zombie plague without even being infected.

The Exploder rushed toward Lehti screaming and shaking.

"I don't think so," Lehti, the Pyromancer, said in an arrogant manner and pointed at the zombie. A jet of flame shot from his finger tip and through the forehead of the zombie burning a hole straight through the brain, dropping The Exploder before it reached Lehti.

"Now then," he said to himself softly, "Time to go find our old friend, Sarsethok. And after him...it will be time to cleanse this world forever."

Chapter 5
No More Mister Nice Guy

"OK sweetheart.....time for round two." Turk'en said in a raspy voice.

Trinity growled and wiper her nose with the back of her hand smearing blood across her cheek. She rushed Turk'en.

He was defiant yes. But he had been weakened. Drastically weakened. Trinty jumped into the air and kicked up, butting the toe of her boot into the chin of the darkling splitting it wide with a nasty gash. Turk'en was still quick enough tough to grab her other leg. Both crashed to the ground, Turk'en on his back, and Trinity landing on top of him on her back, with the back of her head smacking cracking against his kneecap.

Both rolled to their stomach's Trinity was up first but wobbled some. Turk'en was barely able to stand. The dagger still stuck out of his chest.

She spun with a roundhouse kick, catching the darkling in the jaw, sending blood flying. Turk'en stumbled backwards.

"It's over darkling. Just lie down and die. I'll make it slow....just the way your people like it." Trinity said, licking her own blood from her lips and slowly walking toward him.

"My people?"

She came closer.


Trinity stopped slightly confused.

"YOU KNOW NOTHING OF MY PEOPLE!!!" he screamed turning on her shoving both of his hands into her mouth.

"YOU KNOW NOTHING!" he howled, gripping her top row of teeth with one hand and the bottom row with his other hand.

"NOTHING!!!!" he screamed and yanked, snapping her lower mandible off of her face, and tearing out the majority of her top row of her teeth.

"FUCKING DIE!" he yelled and began beating Trinity in the face over and over and over and over with her own lower jaw bone.

Soon nothing was left that was in any way recognizable of the woman assassin known as Trinity. She lay dead, beaten to death, by Turk'en.

The darkling fell to the ground and passed out.

[/size=18]Chapter 6
The Run

Aldion ran as fast as he could with Punky following him. He wasn't sure what happened to Leif, but he knew he had to get back to the ship. Just seeing the chaos everywhere with undead attacking townsfolk, and assassins and knights battling constantly gave him the knowledge that he had to get to the ship before it left.

He rounded a corner and came across two Knights of Tomath.

"HOLD!" one shouted.

"Looks to be an assassin. Look at that weapon," the other said.

Both knights wore chainmail that was covered in blood and dirt. It was clear they had been fighting recently. One had a bandage over his eye. The other had what looked to be a nasty rope burn scar around his throat.

"Think we should just let him go Cale?" the one with the rope burn scar asked.

"I'm not sure Chance," the older one with the bandaged eye replied to his comrade.

"Good. I was hoping you'd say that," the one called Chance replied.

Both knights, weilding long swords, rushed Aldion to attack.

"HEY! HEY HEY HEY STOP! SHIT!" he yelled turning to run the other direction.

Aldion went to the ground when he turned to run, trampled and over run by a horde of undead that tackled the two knights.

Hearing their screams, Aldion regretted not trying to help them, but he knew to do so would mean his own death as well. He used the distraction and ran from the scene hoping the undead wouldn't notice him.

He ran for what seemed like hours, but was in truth only mere minutes. Finally he arrived at the docks.

He stopped.

He stared.

He was silent.

And then...

"WHERE IS THE DAMN SHIP?!" he yelled in shock and anger.

The scream was horrifying. The zombie leaped onto him and both tumbled off of the docks.

The docks of Peregren weren't like normal docks. Peregren sat at the top of a cliff. On one side of the city was the wall that the undead poured through. On the other side was nothing but a long long deadly fall. No. These docks weren't normal docks at all. They were docks for air ships.

And Aldion was just tackled off of them.

The zombie fell out of view down the cliff to the bottom and out of site. Aldion hung onto Reaver, his scythe, which was hooked onto the edge of the dock. He dangled precariously.

His was literally hanging on to his life line.

And then...Punky peared down over the edge of the dock at Aldion.


Chapter 7

Browden rushed at Erron swinging the battle axe. Erron just barely was able to dodge the blow.

"She's mine...you can't have her," Browden growled, yanking the axe out of the wooden wall it had crashed into.

He began walking toward Erron quickly. Erron grabbed an old broken board lying on a counter in the old destroyed shop and swung. Browden was too big and strong though. He raised his forearm and the wood shattered.

"You stole my eye and now you try to steal her away," Browden said swinging a punch at Erron.

Erron ducked, and inadvertently fell to his knees from the pain in his side. The rib was causing him immense agony. Erron rested on his knees, his head bent down. Browden raised his axe.



The axe fell to floor and Browden's eyes grew huge.

"Not very fucking likely," Erron whispered in anger.

"AHHHHHHH!!!!" Browden screamed. Erron squeezed Browden's testicles as hard as he could and yanked.

Browden fell to his knees, his private parts still being gripped by Erron.

"You want her so damn bad, you're not going to be much good without these!" Erron growled.

"GRR!!!" Browden snarled, smacking his forehead into the side of Erron's face.

Both men fell to the floor, Browden holding his crotch in pain, Erron holding his ribs in pain.

"H-hate you," Browden stuttered.

Erron reached up to an over turned table and pulled himself up.

Browden got to his hands and knees.

"OOF!" Browden said as Erron kicked him hard in the stomach.

The big man rolled over to his back still holding his crotch.

Erron stumbled out of the door way.

Browden lay in the decrepit building in the dark, as it was always night time in Nerin Toth, his anger and rage seething.

Minutes passed. Lehti/Leif/Cholley was hunting a man named Sarsethok. Aldion was at the mercy of a deranged monkey. Turk'en lay unconscious. Erron wandered the chaotic streets of Peregren near death. The Sky Palace was escaping the city. And Browden lay in a building holding his testicles in pain.

"That was interesting," came the voice.

"Who--who's th-there?" Browden said, in agony.

No one stepped forward, but a voice could be heard.

"The man, Erron, you hate so much.....what would you be willing to give up in order to see him dead forever?" the voice asked.

"Any---anything," Browden replied slowly sitting up.

"Even your precious Hellcat?" the voice asked.

"If....if I can't have her....no one can...Yes...anything," Browden said with venom.

"Good," The Harbinger replied, stepping from the shadows.

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