Thursday, February 9, 2012

Rumeria. Chapter Three.

Chapter Three. Just copying and Pasting. There's only 4 chapters.


Sorry, I said that it was going to be the longest, and obviously it's not. I had a major writters block near the end, cuz if everline gave the information then...well...this adds a twist and gives me more ideas. :]

Explination: Svendrall is MESSED UP. At the beginning, he knew she was safe and only allowed the panic to pain the soldiers, then why was he angry? Hes just messed up ok. He's beyond evil, and as it mentions, without a soul. [[so everyone thinks.]]

You can expect chapter 4 by next weekend. :] It's a routine I'm trying to focus on. Ok, enjoy.

Chapter 3.

"Lazy bastards"
Svendrall wasn't used to this kind of precision. He wanted his information, and he wanted it now. Sitting was not an option, and he had been pacing in the same spot for so long that his exquisite rug was starting to fade. His patience was running out, and if somebody didn't bring him the information he needed there was going to be a blood bath. Fire suddenly ignited on his hands, his eyes matching the burning flames color, and even thought he froze where he stood, his entire body trembled with intense anger. At that exact moment, head commander Huit stumbled through the 20 foot tall wooden doors of Svendrall's office. He fell onto his knees with a loud thud and didn't even take time to apologize. His breath came out in pants, and he was barely understandable.
"Sir, we got…the girl…one of our…soldiers…accidentally blasted her…she's alive but barely…my apolo-"
There was silence, but it didn't last long. The echo of Huit's body as it hit the floor was loud enough to frighten those listening outside the office doors. Scatter of footsteps was heard shortly after, followed by similar thuds. A smile crept across Svendrall's face as he mentally crushed each body. Blood oozed from underneath the giant doors, rolling down the uneven office's floor, until it poured into a hole created purposely for Svendrall's weekly soak. As the level of the nearly black pool increased, he relaxed. His chiseled chest expanded as he filled his lungs with the rusty smell of his innocent victim's blood. A rumble crawled up from Svendrall's stomach, urging for a taste of the pungent. It seeped through the cracks of his cupped hands as he scooped it up and held it above his head. Tipping them, the blood fell into his open mouth and glided down this throat. The rest overflowed down his body, eventually reuniting with what was now the knee-high pool of blood around his feet. The room was silent once more until it was broken by the rippling of miniature waves as Svendrall settled beneath the liquid. A low, bright flash appeared, and was gone before he could blink again. The expensive clothes that had only seconds ago been ruined with blood, now hung on a hook, brand new.
An ominous laughter escaped from him, as he thought about the pain and suffering that his now dead soldiers experienced when they thought they had blasted the only hope their side had of finally winning this war; And of the punishment Svendrall would deliver once he found out. The truth was that Everline was safely locked up in the castle's dungeon. She had been there since the moment she escaped from Ingrid's grasp. His thoughts turned, and the laughter slowly disappeared as he realized that his soldiers where no longer in pain…

This didn't make any sense…she had been there, he was sure of it. His body began to tremble once more with anger, causing his hands and eyes to burn with rage. His temperature rose beyond any normal humans should, and it seemed as though every vein within his arms and neck were visible. A gentle breeze blew past him, causing the fire to barely sway before it disappeared from his body. Svendrall snapped his head toward the direction the breeze had come from, then snapped it to where it had disappeared to, and a smile spread across his lips, exposing his perfect dentures.
He could now feel someone's presence near him, near enough so that his magic could affect them anyway. His hands floated in front of his body as he chanted a simple spell, and soon after, violet colored footprints appeared, creating a story line.
"Foolish female! Did you really believe you could outsmart me?"
As he spoke, his eyes traced the many paths the footprints had taken…it was obvious the young wizard had some confusion as to where to escape. The silence crept in slowly, the echo of Svendrall's deep voice blended into the darkness of the hallway. A sudden movement made him defensive and without thinking, a blue blast appeared from his hands, flew toward the wall and made part of his antique castle chisel.
It was nothing but an innocent rat, scattering about for food that it wouldn't find today, or ever again. Svendrall's nasals burned as the air escaping his lungs flared from the rising anger he couldn't control. Scanning the room was almost impossible, if there was something hiding here, it would not make itself visible anytime soon.
"I'm tired of these games! Show yourself!"
Frustration was growing, and he spun rapidly, his eyes sharply searching the dark room. Another breeze blew past him from the opposite direction this time, and it seemed to calm him. He was not about to be outwitted by an inexperienced wizard, and he would have her blood sooner then later.

He ordered half his guards to march around the perimeter of the giant castle, and not stop until this girl was captured and dead. The other half were to search every inch of the palace, and if she escaped neither the ones searching nor the ones marching would be safe. A tremble shivered down their spine as his words sliced their deepest fear. If not for the fact that working for Svendrall was the only way to support their dying families and that they were prisoners of war, many of them would have rather worked for a slave then him. As they scurried off to complete their orders, they heard companions fall behind them followed by a deep laughter and a threat.
"Notice what just happened…Notice it, and avoid it."

The enormous number of guards were now blocking every possible exit there was, and teleporting here would be just as dangerous as running out the castles main entrance in broad daylight. She sat quietly, her senses on full alert, while her mind ran through the possibilities at hand.
Surrender to Svendrall on her own account, reveal the secret, and be rewarded with life. Teleport to the furthest and most remote corner of the kingdom, be seen, and be hunted for the rest of her immortal life. Wait a couple days so the guards would lose their attention and try to run, escape on foot, and most likely be caught, abused and killed.
A smirk appeared as she crossed out the last option. There was no easy way out of this, and the possibility of the tyrant to reward her with life was miniature. Yet, she knew she was meant to die. Her life's destiny was to end in a brutal and dishonorable way. Hope abandoned her, stranding her in this lifeless situation in her time of need. She regretted acting foolishly, on instinct, and believing that by knowing the secret and being a danger to the defense she would then be the most valuable person in this pointless war, receiving gifts day in and day out to maintain the secret what it was, or to declare it. Now her, what seemed like a, heroic act showered her with death. To die young, life's worse punishment.
She stood, and realized there was only one way out of this. With regrets at hand, she held her head, closed her eyes for the last time, and spoke the inaudible words, her perfect pronunciation gone like her hopes and soon her life as her lips trembled and stumbled over every syllable of the death chant. She paused before speaking the last verse, inhaled, and recited them unwillingly.
Svendrall's overgrown arms caught her lifeless body in mid air. His entire body lit aflame in unison, his teeth bare, his eyes focused enough to cut through brick. Infuriated, the body slipped from his grip as he stood and screamed the strongest cast. His magic was fueled by his anger, able to reach around the entire fortress easily, killing anything that it touched. Not one soul was alive by the end of it, except Svendrall, the only being deprived from a soul.
This was going to end one way or another, but either way, he would dominate the new world, building it to his liking without interruption from any defense. He instantly realized without worry or panic, If he was going to get the information, he was going to have to get it himself.

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