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Full Moon Fight (1 Viewer)

Kordain

Senior Member
this is a story that came to my mind a couple of weeks ago and i just had to put it down in writing. no crude language for the only character is educated enough that he would never have to descend to barbaric language. there is violence and gore although not extreme. this does have vampires and werewolves in it but the lore and the way both 'diseases' work is a bit different. no vampires don't glitter but they dry like a raisin in the sun and other good stuff like that. you'll learn as you read. enjoy.







“Full moon tonight, this is the night,” Dalrik muttered to himself. The night was cold but the temperature didn’t bother him. He was nervous about what he decided to do. His pale skin was easily noticed on his face and his sunken features and his strong red eyes. As he walked the leaves on the ground crunched and his chain mail clinked. He could not see or hear anyone else but he felt a presence in the forest. A foul presence, one that seeks only death, but yet it felt odd that he could not place it and it constantly moved.


He began to shake from apprehension. The moon light easily penetrated the leafless trees and glinted off of his sword he had buckled to his hip. Hope washed over him as his memories came to his mind, if I can just do this the village will realize I’m no evil killer, he thought. He remembered how the villagers had chased him out with torches and pitch forks once they figured out what he was, even though he had lived there since he was a boy they still chased him out like he was spawned from the void.


Feeling the presence move again he turned his body in the general direction. But he could tell it was closer. He put both of his hands to his mouth and howled a long deep howl. After a couple of seconds he heard the howl return from the north. This is it; this is the night I get my home back. The presence was approaching and its location was lost to him again but he felt it get closer. Unshouldering his wooden shield the emblems on the front reminded him who he was doing this for. The village, even though they kicked him out, the province he lived in, the country of Napor, and Marstor the all powerful and merciful god of the covenant.



When his skin changed from tan to white in as little as a week and his face becoming gaunt the village council noticed and figured out that he was a vampire. He didn’t hurt anyone, nor did he turn others into vampires either. Always he made sure he protected himself, if any of his blood were to enter an open wound of a normal human they would transform but he fed regularly to make sure he appeared human. Feeding never turned anyone into vampire because his undead blood never touched them, as long as that never happened he could exist in a community just fine.


Another howl echoed through the woods but this time it was much closer than expected. He ripped his sword out of its sheath and held his shield firm. The presence was closer and more definite. Before he was kicked out there had been a creature that was faster than the human eye some said that was slaughtering sheep and other animals. After several incidents over several months the villagers figured out there was a pattern every twenty eight days the creature would strike so they decided to destroy the creature. On the predicted night, the men of the village got some bait together and set it out in a pasture. Four cows standing around as the men waited in the surrounding forest. Sure enough the beast came and began to attack the cows, the men jumped up and assaulted to creature. It was vaguely man like but it had fur, claws, and the head of a wolf. Their weapons struck but had little effect and man after man fell by the deadly claws. The men fled and Dalrik knew he had to do something about it.


He stopped feeding two weeks later. As his lack of feeding continued he felt more and more empty, yet he felt stronger. His skin turned colors and his skin was stretched tight across his body. His body was made stronger and what most legends said of vampires began to emerge. But he was kicked out before he could the next time the beast would show. One man identified the creature in the light of that bloody night. He said it was a werewolf but none of the others dared say a word after so many lives were lost. The people of the village could not do it but Dalrik knew he could.


This time he didn’t have to use his extra senses, his vampire perception showed him with his eyes his enemy, the very werewolf who had killed so many people and animals. The wolf emerged from the forest and growled deep from its throat. Dalrik gripped his sword tighter and fear finally washed over him. Sure he had been in combat, when he was drafted into the provincial militia to fight for his country for a couple of years but he had fought men not killer crazed beasts that tore men’s arms from their shoulders.



As he kept from feeding his muscles received unnatural strength and his body became tougher, being able to withstand more injuries than a normal human. His eyes were well attuned to the lack of light and he could see perfectly. Strength filled his body but the fear never drained away.



The werewolf growled and Dalrik growled back. The werewolf howled in return he snarled. Dalrik roared deep from his chest and the wolf backed up a couple of steps.


“Come on beasty,” he relied on the blade he carried and on his vampire strength to do the wolf in because its body resisted damage from normal weapons made of iron and steel. Fortunately for Dalrik his sword wasn’t made of just iron or steel, it was a combination of steel and silvers a mixture so that the wielder could actually slay ghosts and steel to add strength. Silver to a werewolf acted just like a normal weapon to a normal man.


The wolf howled as he leapt at Dalrik but his advance vampiric state he was too quick to be caught in that fashion. Dalrik rolled aside and brought the sword down but the wolf was fast as well, it jumped to the side and lashed out with its claws. Dalrik jumped back and swung again but the wolf knocked it aside and went for Dalrik’s belly. But his shield was in the way and its claws clunked as they struck the wood.


Fear began to flow over Dalrik’s mind and he cowered behind his shield as the wolf began to beat at it. Splinters soon started to fall as the shield lost strength and fear of being torn limb from limb became ever more realistic. He then thought that he had made a bad choice that he should not have sought out the creature. What was the use if he was to die, what would he accomplish? The people of the village that he had grown up with flooded his memory and he found his courage. He swung the shield and surprised the wolf as he struck it in the muzzle. The wolf jumped at him and struck the shield with its weight behind its claws. The shield fell apart and Dalrik let the remnants fall to the earth.



He swung the sword and cut a wound in the wolf’s arm, but this only angered the wolf and it attacked back. It leapt again but Dalrik grabbed the wolf and threw it into a nearby tree. The wolf’s chest struck the trunk with a thud and the wolf yelped. With both hands on the handle he waved it back and forth in nervous readiness. “Come on beasty, come here and I’ll send you to the void.”


As if the wolf understood him it leapt in anger at him and beat his blade aside disarming the vampire. They both fell to the earth with the wolf on top of him trying to get its teeth into his flesh. Its claws were trying to dig into his flesh but his body was resistant, although not as much as the wolf, to damage. He held off the wolf’s hungry mouth by sticking his hand inside its mouth trying to keep the snapping jaws from his neck. The teeth pierced the skin of his sword hand and its slobber flew everywhere. Grunting with effort Dalrik grabbed the bottom jaw of the wolf and grabbed its throat and squeezed. The wolf released him and tore his hand from its throat. In its moment of distraction Dalrik kneed the creature in the gut and threw it off of him.


Dalrik jumped grabbed the sword and rolled then stood up in time to cut the other arm of the wolf. The creature fell to the side and Dalrik brought the sword down again but it jumped to the side and slashed right through his chainmail and drew blood from his side. It slashed again and cut his sword arm again but this time it began to be hard to use that arm. He backed away and swung again but the wolf duck under the attack and bit him on the shoulder. He grabbed it with the other arm and tried to rip it off his shoulder but its teeth were too far into his flesh. As he struggled with his opponent he considered on option. Nothing ever happened to a human that had its blood sucked but when a human came in contact with his blood they would turn into a vampire and if a human was hurt by a werewolf and survived they would turn into a werewolf. What if the two fought? Dalrik took action. He bit the werewolf on the ear and ripped it off with one powerful jerk of his head.


The wolf let go and then bit down on Dalrik’s leg. Dalrik yelled as loud as he could and then used his off hand to chop the wolf in its back. The wolf didn’t let go and Dalrik kept chopping until the wolf let go and slashed him deep into his thigh. Dalrik fell one knee and the wolf backed off. As the wolf charged Dalrik struck with his sword and hit the wolf in the side of the head. He then stood up straight and thrust the blade through the creature’s chest. The bladed didn’t enter all the way in but with more effort he was confident that the creature had been slain. He pulled the blade from the corpse, but he was wrong about it being totally dead. The creature let out one last howl before its breathing stopped. Several howls answered it. no way he though as he felt several new presences approach.
 

Johnathanrs

Senior Member
Hey, thought I’d take a read.

The first thing that comes to mind is this seems more like a basic framework for a story, not a story itself. I feel you’re not involving your readers enough, and describing stuff.

An example:
“Full moon tonight, this is the night,” Dalrik muttered to himself. The night was cold but the temperature didn’t bother him. He was nervous about what he decided to do. His pale skin was easily noticed on his face and his sunken features and his strong red eyes. As he walked the leaves on the ground crunched and his chain mail clinked. He could not see or hear anyone else but he felt a presence in the forest. A foul presence, one that seeks only death, but yet it felt odd that he could not place it and it constantly moved.

“The night was cold, but the temperature didn’t bother him”

You are telling me the story, but not letting me imagine it. Let my imagination tell me that it is cold. “He was nervous about what he decided to do.” Describe why he was nervous. If you need to tell me he is nervous, let there be a purpose on why you’re telling me.)

An example:
“Full Moon”
“they be coming” as he muttered, trying to distinguish the shapes in the darkness, his breath, leaving vapor trails behind his wake. (Describes that’s its night and its cold. You probably could do a much better job at describing this, just an example.)
 
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