psyche_beamer Posted: 13:22 Jan04 2006
Post ID: 598498
psyche_beamer
Posts: 65
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My first Fan Fiction yet. Tell me what you think.
Disclaimer: This fanfic will contain mild language, violence, and graphical description of bleeding and wars. If any of the above mentions would make you squirm, I suggest that you do not read this.
The silver glowing moon cast light over the lonely graveyard. Bare trees would shake furiously to and fro as if struggling to be freed from the prison of despair they were forever held in.
Two men, both well-dressed, approached the black gates. The first man was the king, the second a priest.
"Your Highness, tell me why we are here," said the priest uncomfortably.
"You are the only person of the Catholic Church who knows how to perform the ritual I want," replied the king.
"What ritual?"
"It's the anniversary of my stepfather's death."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"It's all you need to know."
The priest hesitated before replying. "Sir, I won't provide the ritual if you-"
"You have to," interrupted the king.
"What do you want, then?"
''First things first, my friend; we need to find the proper grave. Ah- here it is."
He grimaced while tracing his long finger over the engraved letters in the tombstone before him.
ALLISTER COELLA ERIX
1847-1869
BELOVED MEMBER OF AZPERDAN COUNCIL
IN LOVING MEMORY
His anger slowly overpowered his common sense. Moments later, he had already drawn his soot-black wand and pointed it toward this name.
"Aerobius Sacrimento!"
Glowing red light crashed into the stone and destroyed it on impact, leaving all but chunks of debris scattered amidst the burnt grass.
"You double-crosser!" he managed to utter amidst rapid and heavy breaths.
"What are you doing?" cried the priest in distress.
"Important affairs, Father Geraldo," replied the king sternly, pointing his wand toward his target.
"I won't let you!" Father Geraldo shouted in protest.
"I don't think you can stop me." He tossed the innocent priest to the grass, and made him kneel beside him.
ARIEL OPILAN CELIA
1849-1866
HONOR ROLL STUDENT AT ANEQUIP'S SORCERY ACADEMY
"You died...for me..." Kneeling before the grave, the men shared a moment of silence before the king pulled up a sleeve of his robe.
"This is what I had to go through," he uttered in sorrow, showing the priest.
"Oh, my lord... What happened?"
"I was born without one," he replied shamefully. "So they gave me hers."
"Why was her..."
"Enough of this." He stepped up and approached the final tombstone bluntly, without any further discussion of the matter.
BASIL ABRAHAM GRYPHON
1846-1871
DIED FROM EUPHOLYGYMORALYSIS
BELOVED STEPFATHER AND FATHER
"Alright. Father Geraldo, come here."
The priest reluctantly drew closer. "Yes?" he gulped reluctantly.
"Stand still."
Ever so slowly, the king drew from his robe a blade, concealing it in a deep robe pocket behind his back. Then in an instant he drew it plunged it through Father Geraldo's leg.
"What are you doing?!" gasped the man, collapsing aside the tombstone.
"I'm performing the ritual," snapped his attacker. Drawing the blade from the wound and pricking his own finger with its tip, he knelt before the stone and recited some important phrases:
"Blood of the Father...Garment of the king... Stone of the righteous..." He dropped a thread of silk from his red robe to the dust bed he was kneeling on. He then took the shining blood on his fingertip and traced on the tombstone, below the engravements:
DRAZIL PAYODOR ERIX
1867-1884
LAST REMAINING DESCENDANT OF GENERATION
"What are you doing to that gravestone?!" cried the writhering priest cried in distress. Rising, the king- King Drazil Payodor Erix- bowed slightly to the tombstone, uttering two words: "Thank you." Moments later Father Geraldo managed to read the engravements King Drazil had written on the stone.
"But...There is one more...Your half-brother... Damien..."
"Damien... Damien who?"
"Azperdan....Kingdom...Basil....heir..."
"He was Basil's true son? The heir?"
"Yes..."
Drazil, in a deep trance, dropped his dagger and walked away.
After he disappeared from sight, Father Geraldo struggled to cross the cement road leading to the borderline of Dragos and Azperdan, a neighboring country. When he finally crossed to what he believed to be safety, he lay wounded in a ditch till morning.
Disclaimer: This fanfic will contain mild language, violence, and graphical description of bleeding and wars. If any of the above mentions would make you squirm, I suggest that you do not read this.
PROLOGUE: The Family Heir
The silver glowing moon cast light over the lonely graveyard. Bare trees would shake furiously to and fro as if struggling to be freed from the prison of despair they were forever held in.
Two men, both well-dressed, approached the black gates. The first man was the king, the second a priest.
"Your Highness, tell me why we are here," said the priest uncomfortably.
"You are the only person of the Catholic Church who knows how to perform the ritual I want," replied the king.
"What ritual?"
"It's the anniversary of my stepfather's death."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"It's all you need to know."
The priest hesitated before replying. "Sir, I won't provide the ritual if you-"
"You have to," interrupted the king.
"What do you want, then?"
''First things first, my friend; we need to find the proper grave. Ah- here it is."
He grimaced while tracing his long finger over the engraved letters in the tombstone before him.
ALLISTER COELLA ERIX
1847-1869
BELOVED MEMBER OF AZPERDAN COUNCIL
IN LOVING MEMORY
His anger slowly overpowered his common sense. Moments later, he had already drawn his soot-black wand and pointed it toward this name.
"Aerobius Sacrimento!"
Glowing red light crashed into the stone and destroyed it on impact, leaving all but chunks of debris scattered amidst the burnt grass.
"You double-crosser!" he managed to utter amidst rapid and heavy breaths.
"What are you doing?" cried the priest in distress.
"Important affairs, Father Geraldo," replied the king sternly, pointing his wand toward his target.
"I won't let you!" Father Geraldo shouted in protest.
"I don't think you can stop me." He tossed the innocent priest to the grass, and made him kneel beside him.
ARIEL OPILAN CELIA
1849-1866
HONOR ROLL STUDENT AT ANEQUIP'S SORCERY ACADEMY
"You died...for me..." Kneeling before the grave, the men shared a moment of silence before the king pulled up a sleeve of his robe.
"This is what I had to go through," he uttered in sorrow, showing the priest.
"Oh, my lord... What happened?"
"I was born without one," he replied shamefully. "So they gave me hers."
"Why was her..."
"Enough of this." He stepped up and approached the final tombstone bluntly, without any further discussion of the matter.
BASIL ABRAHAM GRYPHON
1846-1871
DIED FROM EUPHOLYGYMORALYSIS
BELOVED STEPFATHER AND FATHER
"Alright. Father Geraldo, come here."
The priest reluctantly drew closer. "Yes?" he gulped reluctantly.
"Stand still."
Ever so slowly, the king drew from his robe a blade, concealing it in a deep robe pocket behind his back. Then in an instant he drew it plunged it through Father Geraldo's leg.
"What are you doing?!" gasped the man, collapsing aside the tombstone.
"I'm performing the ritual," snapped his attacker. Drawing the blade from the wound and pricking his own finger with its tip, he knelt before the stone and recited some important phrases:
"Blood of the Father...Garment of the king... Stone of the righteous..." He dropped a thread of silk from his red robe to the dust bed he was kneeling on. He then took the shining blood on his fingertip and traced on the tombstone, below the engravements:
DRAZIL PAYODOR ERIX
1867-1884
LAST REMAINING DESCENDANT OF GENERATION
"What are you doing to that gravestone?!" cried the writhering priest cried in distress. Rising, the king- King Drazil Payodor Erix- bowed slightly to the tombstone, uttering two words: "Thank you." Moments later Father Geraldo managed to read the engravements King Drazil had written on the stone.
"But...There is one more...Your half-brother... Damien..."
"Damien... Damien who?"
"Azperdan....Kingdom...Basil....heir..."
"He was Basil's true son? The heir?"
"Yes..."
Drazil, in a deep trance, dropped his dagger and walked away.
After he disappeared from sight, Father Geraldo struggled to cross the cement road leading to the borderline of Dragos and Azperdan, a neighboring country. When he finally crossed to what he believed to be safety, he lay wounded in a ditch till morning.
I am a signature... But what am I if my master does not type anything on me? Wait...What am I saying, 'master'? I choose my own destiny... Ah, screw it! I'll stay in this bar for a couple of more years...
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