Unknown2007-08-01 03:04:09
Murphy lay kneeling on the ground, his head bowed before a green flame. No other sounds pervaded the room, save for the night breeze that howled against the building in anguish. Shadows curled themselves along the floor, seething and hissing beneath the weight of the flame's preternatural light. Two hammers, both humming with the power held within them, added their voice to the still room. Murphy didn't seem to notice the moving of his prized possessions, his eyes closed and his thoughts on one single thing; the eyes of Metea that haunted him continuously. What was that? What was that?, he asked himself, over and over again. Her stare had followed him to the hellish chamber of the damned, where he now knelt and tried to still his thoughts. Even now, however, her eyes still remained burned into his mind. I have never seen anything like that before, he growled to the nagging questions that plagued his consciousness. So...she is capable of true evil. Very good. Very good, indeed. Maybe I will be able to use you after all. Murphy opened his eyes and stood, his cloak billowing about him as he looked at the large, green flame that danced before him.
"Your eyes may hold the answer I seek afterall," he said aloud, the walls catching his voice and throwing it back to echo in the empty air like whispers of the dead. He turned to leave the large room, but something in the darkness ahead of him caught his attention. Two small eyes, each giving off a silver glow, watched him closely. Murphy narrowed his eyes threateningly, his hands balling themselves up into fists. "Who's there?" he barked the question rather than ask. Asking questions were left as a novice. Men don't ask questions was what he was told by his old mentor. A mentor I ended up succeeding, a voice reminded him. His blade had found its side in the old man's right temple, the scream it produced only bringing a morbid, maniacal smile to his lips. The silver eyes moved within the darkness, coming closer like a predator watching its prey. The air on the back of Murphy's neck slowly rose, one by one, as the eyes continued to watch him, unapologetic and malevolent. "Show yourself!" His voice, like before, caught along the walls and struck the air mercilessly. The eyes simply continued watching him, coming closer and closer as they seemed to slither along the stone floor.
"You like games, I take it? Then, by all means, let me see the face of the man who dares challenge me to a game," Murphy hissed, a dagger falling from within his right sleeve into his hand. It was a trick he had learned from a Nihilist. Catches them off guard, the woman had said. He had used the same trick to slash her throat open as he made love to her. The eyes had stopped advancing, the light of the ghostly flame behind Murphy granting enough light to show the form of a small silver cat. It sat on its haunches, a long tail swishing back and forth behind it while it watched him quietly. "A cat? Odd. I didn't know Magnagora allowed filth such as you onto its streets. No matter, though. You won't be alive long enough to return back from wherever it was you came," Murphy said with a grin, pulling the dagger up between his ring finger and his middle finger. The cat simply sat there, its body partially hidden by the shadows behind it. He moved to send the dagger flying into the cat's skull, but he didn't have time to react to the creature's speed. Something tore at his throat and then a searing pain throbbed into his right temple, forcing him to gasp at the assault he did not see. He rose his hand to touch his neck, bringing it away to see his own blood covering his calloused fingers. He stepped forward, the pain in his temple sending him to collapse onto his knees. He rose the blood drenched hand to touch what felt like the hilt of the same dagger that he held only moments before, its hilt stretching out from where the pain throbbed in his head. Behind him, the silver cat watched intently as Murphy threw back his head and screamed. His cry of disbelief shook against the walls before going silent. The green flame continued to burn, the only audience to witness the fall of the basin's greatest killer and warrior. Its fire did not waver in its watch, even when the silver cat walked onto Murphy's chest, a satisified purr boiling from deep within its chest. It notched its claws into the body, slowly padding back and forth as it turned to stare into the flame with a content smile spread upon its haunting stare.
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Night hung over the city of Magnagora, the Megalith casting its wretched glow upon the nearby buildings like a mother nestling her babe into her breast. At the toll of midnight, the clang of a large bell announced the arrival of the darkest hour onto the streets. Underneath the powerful and resounding echoes of the bell, a scream shattered the night's tranquility; no one heard the maddening scream nor heard the defeat strangled within its cry. The bells of twilight had given their voice in praise of night, and in a room where a green flame threw its light onto the floor, the first trickle of blood praised the shadows that would soon find themselves whole.
"Your eyes may hold the answer I seek afterall," he said aloud, the walls catching his voice and throwing it back to echo in the empty air like whispers of the dead. He turned to leave the large room, but something in the darkness ahead of him caught his attention. Two small eyes, each giving off a silver glow, watched him closely. Murphy narrowed his eyes threateningly, his hands balling themselves up into fists. "Who's there?" he barked the question rather than ask. Asking questions were left as a novice. Men don't ask questions was what he was told by his old mentor. A mentor I ended up succeeding, a voice reminded him. His blade had found its side in the old man's right temple, the scream it produced only bringing a morbid, maniacal smile to his lips. The silver eyes moved within the darkness, coming closer like a predator watching its prey. The air on the back of Murphy's neck slowly rose, one by one, as the eyes continued to watch him, unapologetic and malevolent. "Show yourself!" His voice, like before, caught along the walls and struck the air mercilessly. The eyes simply continued watching him, coming closer and closer as they seemed to slither along the stone floor.
"You like games, I take it? Then, by all means, let me see the face of the man who dares challenge me to a game," Murphy hissed, a dagger falling from within his right sleeve into his hand. It was a trick he had learned from a Nihilist. Catches them off guard, the woman had said. He had used the same trick to slash her throat open as he made love to her. The eyes had stopped advancing, the light of the ghostly flame behind Murphy granting enough light to show the form of a small silver cat. It sat on its haunches, a long tail swishing back and forth behind it while it watched him quietly. "A cat? Odd. I didn't know Magnagora allowed filth such as you onto its streets. No matter, though. You won't be alive long enough to return back from wherever it was you came," Murphy said with a grin, pulling the dagger up between his ring finger and his middle finger. The cat simply sat there, its body partially hidden by the shadows behind it. He moved to send the dagger flying into the cat's skull, but he didn't have time to react to the creature's speed. Something tore at his throat and then a searing pain throbbed into his right temple, forcing him to gasp at the assault he did not see. He rose his hand to touch his neck, bringing it away to see his own blood covering his calloused fingers. He stepped forward, the pain in his temple sending him to collapse onto his knees. He rose the blood drenched hand to touch what felt like the hilt of the same dagger that he held only moments before, its hilt stretching out from where the pain throbbed in his head. Behind him, the silver cat watched intently as Murphy threw back his head and screamed. His cry of disbelief shook against the walls before going silent. The green flame continued to burn, the only audience to witness the fall of the basin's greatest killer and warrior. Its fire did not waver in its watch, even when the silver cat walked onto Murphy's chest, a satisified purr boiling from deep within its chest. It notched its claws into the body, slowly padding back and forth as it turned to stare into the flame with a content smile spread upon its haunting stare.
-------
Night hung over the city of Magnagora, the Megalith casting its wretched glow upon the nearby buildings like a mother nestling her babe into her breast. At the toll of midnight, the clang of a large bell announced the arrival of the darkest hour onto the streets. Underneath the powerful and resounding echoes of the bell, a scream shattered the night's tranquility; no one heard the maddening scream nor heard the defeat strangled within its cry. The bells of twilight had given their voice in praise of night, and in a room where a green flame threw its light onto the floor, the first trickle of blood praised the shadows that would soon find themselves whole.
