Cursed Existance

Yeah, well, I wasn’t originally going to post it here, since it’s going to be thought of as an Inuyasha ripoff(as it already has)…but, yeah whatever. I have about 5 chapters complete, so I’ll just post one a day or something… anyway, here it is.


            Lightning streaked across the sky in such brilliance that even the darkest shadows were illuminated in the flashes.  Grey, dismal, evil clouds stretched and billowed thin across the endless sea of darkness above, releasing rain like grapeshots onto the land below.  The drops of water hit with the force of bullets, splashing wildly at each strike. The earth was swiftly transmuting from cold dirt to wet, thick mud, and puddles of rain turned into miniature streams which zigzagged through the ground, carrying a disgusting shade of green with them. 

           Only one being traveled the wilderness that night.  His footsteps left large, deep prints in the sea of mud below, and a grotesque noise of the gurgling of the wet earth broke out with each step of his black boots, but it could barely be heard over the smash of rain and crack of thunder. The young man was soaked. His dark brown, nearly black, hair was stuck to the flesh on his forehead, and sharp green eyes that usually gaze venom were red and hazy from the amounts of water in them. There were black, archaic symbols below his left eye upon his clean, chiseled face, which dripped continuously, adding to the wetness on his black jacket, which flowed seamlessly into his loose black pants. A long silver chain hung around his neck and ended in a crystal sphere containing a bright emerald, and encased in a silver wing, dangled in front of his black shirt which bore silver symbols.  

Finally, the young man stopped walking, and looked up. There it was, towering in front of him, the black behemoth. It was a gargantuan black tower, a few hundred feet or so tall, and several feet wide. It was not cylindrical, but roughly rectangular. There were no windows, and only one door, a great oak one set in the front of the structure. A red, swirling cloud, like gaseous blood billowed from the tower’s summit, pulsating with black lightning. The cloud hung like red fire, rotating clockwise, and each bolt of lightning it discharged set a crack of painful noise through the air. Noise that would make the knees of the bravest quake. Noise that would make the teeth of the even the strongest humans chatter. 

‘I have...been here before...’ the man said to himself, his brain clouded and his thoughts askew. Could he find his answers here? Could this vile, black fortress hold the inforamtion he so desperately seeked? ‘I must be on my guard...’ he said to himself once again. 

‘Yes, that would be smart,’ a different voice sounded in his head. ‘Wouldn’t want yourself getting killed now would you?’ The second voice laughed. 

‘No but if I did i would finally be rid of your silk tongue,’ he snapped. The second voice laughed once more. 

‘Do not forget, without me you would no longer be alive, so my tongue is worth far more than your own,’ the voice resounded. 

‘Shut up.’ He shook his head, water spraying from it, and resumed his trek towards the door. When he reached it, one touch of the knob sent a vibration of cold throughout his body. He shook once or twice, and twisted the knob, only to find that it would not roatate, and the door remained closed. A few steps back, and then a devesating kick, that’s all the man needed to get in. The door splintered and flew into the building, collapsing onto the floor and sliding, releasing the sound of metal grinding against stone. 

The man’s footsteps tapped against the stone, and each step removed the caked mud from the soled of his shoes. The water he had so thoroughly collected still ceaselessly fell from him, leaving a glistening trail of wetness on the stone floor. The interior of the tower was dark, perhaps even darker than it was in the everburning night outside the walls. Then the green eyes of the man started to spin, and then they reracted into the white of his eye, and were replaced by a black ring that emerged back out. The darkness around him turned to the interior of the structure, though all in black and white. 

‘See, without me you would not even be able to see in here,’ that vile second voice said, and laughed once more. The man tried to ignore it. 

The room was old, decrepid, and haunting. Cobwebs draped over the entire ceiling, and down some of the walls. In the corners there were the msot, and sacs which contained the eggs of the arachnids that would soon walk these webs sat nestled in the sticky threads. These webs were not at all normal, for they were large and strong, and they had to be to meet the needs of their seven foot creators.  A large fireplace sat at the opposite wall of the room, it’s stone mantle broken, cracked, and chipped, leaving sharp stones around it on the floor. Spider webs even found their way into the hearth of the fireplace, where ancient ashes spilled. Candles, with the wicks corrupt and usless, sat motionless on the mantle. There was an old crystal chandelier hanging askew many feet above. Most of the crystals had fallen to the floor, where their shattered remains still dwelled. The black-clad young man set foot to the spiraling staircase which, was too, made of stone. The banister that accompanied the steps had falled, it was battered and chipped from where it hung. Each step the man took made a light tap on the stone which echoed faintly through the stairwell. The ravaging storm outside could now be just heard, but the wind which now traveled through the doorspace below whistled around, and the young man had the strangest feeling it was following him...laughing at him... He shook the feeling as he continued up through the steps for several minutes, for there had to be hundreds of them. Old paintings, torn, bloodstained, and moth-eaten hung every few feet as he drew nearer to the top. The figures in the paintings were unclear, for every head of each portrait was torn out. 

‘Look out’ that second voice sounded again within his head. He was about to respond, but he then felt his legs give, and he tumbled down the steps. He caught one of them, and was able to stop himself from falling down too far. He had hit his head, and it was slightly trailing a bit of blood, which he found from the redness on his hand after he touched the wound. He sat up, and rubbed his left temple. Ready to stand up again, he began too, but he was stopped by the very loud sound that resembeled a heart’s beat. He looked up to see that the faces on all of the portraits had returned, though they were not at all normal. The faces were twisted, disfigured, stuck with looks of anguish and horror. All of the faces had their mouths open, and within seconds, from each mouth, there started to emerge, a steady flow of the blood. The blood trickled out of the mouths and down the front of the paintings, dripped down the dust-clad, broken stone walls, edging over bits of spiderweb and rubble, until they finally met the edges formed by the meeting of wall and floor. After the first drops hit, the blood began to pour from the mouths like fountains, and the young man soon found himself being washed with it. He swiftly got up, only to find himself slipping again on the slick red beneath him. He then stopped all motion as he heard a slight rumble. He turned and looked up the stairs, and around the bend, a roaring wave of blood started to descend like a waterfall. He then quickly turned and started to hurry down the stairs, dripping now with a mixture of water and blood. He found himself falling again as he slipped, and tumbled down the steps. He caught himself once more, and stood, his own blood mixing with that already on him, and faced the waterfall that was following him. 

‘,’ he said.

‘Oh, now you wish for my aid?’ the second voice asked. It laughed again. ‘Pitiful... your lucky that I’m here.’ 

‘Shut up, and just do it!’ He yelled. Finally, he felt a warmth spread through him. He stretched his arms out in front of him, and a sheet of glowing blue light appeared in front of him. The wave of blood crashed up against it, not able to get through. He then started to run, pushing the invisible shield in front of him as he went. The blood on the other side of the barrier was bushed back up the steps further and further until it dispersed on both sides, flowing away. He had finally reached the top of the steps. Trodding through the lake of blood beneath him, he made his way to a door a few yards ahead of him. When he reached it, he grasped the handle with both hands and pulled as hard as he could, pulling the door through the sea of blood, and it opened, giving him access to a hallway. He progressed into it, and closed the door behind him. The short corridor lead to yet another door, which he opened and closed behind him. 

The red rings in his eyes sunk back into them, and his pupils returned, activated by the light in the room. Several candles sat up on wooden ledges and mantles of fireplaces. Their wax was black, and the candles let off a green glow. The room was clear of cobwebs, and had four fireplaces, one on each wall, which emitted a green glow as well. Thee floor was bare, as were the walls and ceiling, just black stone. Yet in front of him, back turned, there stood another being, with a very long black cloak which was draped around him and the hems collapsed on the floor. The being turned around, and the young man who entered gave a jerk of surprise. This other being was a wretched sight to behold. His skin, if you could call it skin, was the color of the whitest bone. There were holes in his skin, which revealed nothing but blackness, and the occasional insect crawling out from them. His face was vile and twisted, his eyes a bright amber color, with small holes in them as well. Long, greasy, mangled black hair hung down, half concealing his face, but showing the gruesome look that his thin lips made as his teeth were bared. The only other part of his body revealed were his hands. White and having holes, his fingers were long, bony, and ended in black, sharp nails. 

“Tigrez...” the being said in a low, exhausted, raspy voice. 

“Y-you..!” replied the young man, Tigrez, who had taken a step back. 

“You expected to find answers in this forsaken place...havent you..?” he said, following up with a laugh that sounded more like a cough. “But you’ won’t... Filthy half-demon. You don’t deserve answers...I made sure of that...” he laughed again, and it was only then that Tigrez noticed the small mound of corpses piled in the corner. Their skin was a pale grey, their necks obviosly snapped, and their faces twisted, leaking a thick yellow liquid. 

“What did you do to them!?” Tigrez yelled. He was sure that those people could have given him some sort of answer...some sort of advice...something that would give him a clue... 

‘You’re scared,’ the second voice said.

‘Shut up!’ Tigrez yelled at it. ‘Don’t you remember him?’ 
‘Of’ there was a pause as Tigrez was blessed with a warmth. ‘Kill him.’ 

‘I...I can’t..he is too-’ 

‘KILL HIM NOW!’ In a flash, Tigrez had his sword drawn. It was a very unique weapon... a black, thick hilt, with a large, circular, bright red gem at the end of it. The wickedly sharp blade was also black, but at certain spots held a hue of violet and the darkest green.

“Wan’t to play?” the other being said. He held out his hand and a red beam went right under it, and he grasped one end of the beam, and it instantly transformed into a transluscent red blade. The two charged at each other, and their blades clashed. Tigrez slashed from above, only to be parried and attacked from the side, which he just nearly blocked. 

‘Faster, stronger, kill, rip, death!’ the demon presence within Tigrez’s head shouted. Tigrez fed off of this, more eager to 

“Uh..g!” the vile being who Tigrez was fighting looked down to see the half-demon’s blade through his stomach. Tigrez had a maniacal look on his face as he pushed the sword through so far that only the hilt remained in front of the enemy. The sword’s blade, which had gone all the way through the fiend, was covered, and dripping, with a yellow-brown like ooze.  With a low roar, the enemy flung his free hand forward and clutched Tigrez's neck.  His sharp, black fingernails just dug into the skin..Tigrez growled in a mix of anger and pain...mostly anger.  The monster then threw the half-demon several feet away from himself, and grasped the hilt of Tigrez's sword with his left hand.  He slowly writhed it and pulled it out of himself, and held it up to his vile face.  He gave a low cackle, and opened his thin-lipped mouth, revealing that his canine teeth extended much further than any normal person's should...even if he wasn't 'normal.'  A long black tongue slithered out of the foul beasts mouth like a serpent, and gently lapped the edge of the blade, taking ion the abysmal taste of the liquid on it.  "You are a pitiful fighter..." he said.

'He is right, you know,' said that second voice.  'You're pretty bad.'

'Shut up, dammit!'  he roared internally at the voice.  'Saying that I am bad is saying that your are bad too, so why don't you actually use some of our power, you have been holding back!'  The voice inside of his head growled.

'Fine, let us show him who is the terrible fighter...grah!' the voice yelled within him.  A great surge went through Tigrez's body, and his stood up.  The evil he was fighting raised the area where his eye brow would have been if he had them.

"Silent assassin...lend me your claws, panther strike!" Tigrez muttered the incantation, and flung his arms forward, releasing a sphere of black light from each hand.  They flew forward at the enemy, and spun around him a few times, and then both struck him and convered, creating a small explosion of black light, and sending the beast flying backwards.  As this happened, Tigrez ran and grabbed the hilt of his sword as it was sent airborn from his attack, and dashed at his opponent.  The creature recovered swiftly, and held his crimson sword out, but to his surprise, Tigrez leapt straight up into the air, doing a flip in mid jump, and all the while muttering another incantation in a different tongue.  As he descended from the air, his sword was glowing in a silvery-blue color.  The monster looked straight up, and right before he was struck, his body split into what first seemed to be little black pieces, but in fact, they were small black bats.  The winged mammals dispersed from their location and Tigrez hit nothing but the ground, piercing the stone with his sword, and as he did, a silver burst of light emitted all around him.  Tigrez growled at his failed attack, and looked behind him.  The bats were coming together now, and as they last of them melded, the vile monster stood again.  He caught Tigrez slightly off guard, and thrusted his arm out, releasing a crimson colored phantasmal claw which tore through the air and grasped the half-demon, who howled in pain.  He felt a sensation which seemed like there were billions of white-hot needles within his body, and they were trying to get outh through his skin.  He screamed again as a ripple of red light traveled across the arm like appendage attatched to the claw, and entered him.  

'This guy does know a few tricks!' the voice inside Tigrez's head said again.  'Oh well, I guess we can end toying with him, let's finish the job, eh?'  Tigrez nodded and clenched his teeth.  He slowly opened his right hand (his arms were pinned to his sides) and his sword came into it. 

"Spring of life..." Tigrez started, trying with all his might to activate the attack through his pain, "fade into blood and silence..." he summoned the might to get this far...he had to finish it..  " and break! Ruined Chaos!!" he roared.  He flung his arms out and the claw dissipated.  his blade was swarming with silver light, and he grasped the hilt with both hands, raised it high above his head, and slashed downward.  The silver light was flung of the blade and ripped through the air, and then took vaguely a form which seemed to be two serpents spiraling around one another.  The attack collided with the enemy, and discharged sparks of silver around him.  He screamed uncontrolably, and then a flash of light blinded the area.  

Within a few moments, the light faded, and Tigrez could no longer see his opponent.  The stone beneath the spot where he had been standing was charred black.  Tigrez breathed a bit heavily, and returned his sword to it's black and silver scabbard.  'Whew..' he thought.  He took one step towards the door when a bellowing laugh filled his ears.  'No...'  Five feet in front of him, a black light emerged from the floor in a column, and it took the form of the monster.  "Why won't you just die!!"  Tigrez ran at him, emitting a roar. 

"Goodbye!" the creature said, and in that instant, a crimson blast of light rammed into Tigrez sending him against the far wall, which crumbled under the impact.  Tigrez flew into the ravaging storm and the darkness outside, the blast obliterating him into darkness.

Oooh. And let the evil commence. Cool start to the story, I liked the demon-inhabitant of the man’s head. keep going!

Nicely started, man. Great description too.

Chapter 1

Light filtered down through the clouds, casting rays of sunlight on the earth below.  The air was clean and crisp, and the ground still moist from the night before.  The wind came in a ruffling breeze that cast just the right amount of coolness over all it swept, and the birds rode the warm thermals into the sky above.  And so was the peace of Oakside, the small town nestled just next to the Silent Tree, a great oak said to be the oldest tree in existance.  Oakside has always been a haven of serenity and happiness, never involved in any wars, nor controlled by any other person or place.  They made their own way through farming and fishing and gathering, and had no need for interaction with any other civilization.  The inhabitants of the town, which were scarce, made their homes both on the earth and in the beautiful trees that flowed seamlessly from the wilderness into their territory.  There were hammocks stretched between tree limbs, where many of the villagers slept, and where others went to just relax.  Anyone who did not spend their time in the hammocks were down in the fertile farms, harvesting their crops of corn, wheat, lettuce, carrots, potatoes, and almost any other vegetable you could think of.  

"Zeeeeerrrrran!" a woman's voiced called as she spoke up into the trees, wiping the droplets of sweat that dripped from her chesnut hair onto her tanned forehead.  She shifted the weight of the wicker basket filled with carrots she was carrying as she called out again.  From a hammock high in the trees, there came a relaxed sigh of a young man.  A miniscule twittering blue bird was had perched on his oustretched finger, and he lifted his arm upwards, signaling the bird to take flight.  "Come on Zerran, we need your help carrying these baskets!" the woman continued to call.  Swinging his legs over the hammock, Zerran sat up, rubbing his shut eyes.  He opened them wearily, and yawned slightly.  "Zerran, where are you!?"

"Coming mother!" Zerran called.  He then dropped from the hammock and fell the several feet towards the ground.  He slowed, however, a few feet above the ground, and dropped safely and softly onto the earth below.

"There you are, go on down to the fields and help carry the harvest up," Zerran's mother said to him.  He nodded sleepily and started to trod down towards the farmer's fields.  

Zerran was about seventeen years of age, standing nearly six foot one.  Unlike the rest of the town, he showed a special interest in fighting.  There was a reason behind this, however.  He was the descendent of a great elementalist of wind named Isaro.  The traits of Isaro had never shown up since his time in any of Zerran's ancestors.  Zerran was the first to show signs of an elementalist.  His hair was brown, the same color as his mothers, but there were strings of white in it.  His eyes were also white, yet a dark enough shade to stand out from the rest of his eye.  When Zerran first learned he had these powers, he practiced with them in all of his free time, which he had a lot of.  He also practiced with weapons.  Well, they weren't really weapons as they were kitchen knives.  He became quite accurate in throwing them, however.  But his elemental powers is where he really shined.  He could control the winds slightly, not having enoughto create a hurricane or anything along those lines, but skilled enough to have them shift direction ina  given area and could knock nuts off of trees and small tricks like that.  He had developed one offensive attack however, where he could create a small blade of wind which he could use the cut through or slash things with.  It wasn't too powerful, but it worked.  Oh, and of course he could float for a few minutes by altering the air beneath him.  For this sole reason, him showing the signs of an elementalist, he wanted to leave the town.  He wanted to go off on his own travels, putting his powers to the test.  He eventually wanted to join up in an elementalist tournament, which he had heard stories of from his father.  But, the villagers needed him.  He was young and had endurance, stamina, and strength that most of the other villagers did not.  He could lift and carry a lot more then the older farmers, and was smarter than the younger children.  In the end, no matter how much he wanted, he could not bring himself to just up and leave the village.  	

Before he knew it, Zerran was descending the final hill that lead to the acres of farmland.  He saw there the farmers gathering their supplies and loading sacks onto small carts and mules.  Many of the women were busy carrying baskets of vegetables while the children carried bundles of wheat.  Zerran cleared the hill and treaded out into the fields, waving to the villagers that he passed, and reached the spot where mostof the baskets and sacks were being piled.  He walked up to them and hoisted two sacks under each arm.  He then closed his eyes and focused a thought, and he felt and sensed the wind around him.  The air rose beneath four of the baskets, and they began to float around Zerran.  With the food, he headed back up to the village storage building.  Keeping the baskets afloat was rather easy, easier than the last time he did it, anyway.  Each time he performed his floatation trick, he found it more and more easier to control.  The heaviest thing he had lifted so far was himself, but he planned to go out and practice more after he helped transporting the food.  He lugged the sacks and baskets back over the hill and across the short stretch of earth and finally back into Oakside.  

As he was finished dropping the food off at the storage house, Zerran noticed that there was an abundance of villages crouded around towards the western exit of town.  Intrigued, he wandered over to the group, who were all staring down at a black heap on the ground.  At first Zerran didn't know what it was, but he then saw it to be a person.  His clothes were tattered and scorched, and his hair matted.  A long trail of blood was behind him, leading down the dirt road which stretched into the forest.  Zerran also noticed that the man's hands had long scorch marks on them as well.  

"Everyone, everyone, back away, please!" the voice of an older man broke through the murmers of the villagers.  It was the town elder, Masharo.  He was wearing his usual earth toned brown and green robes, and his white beard trimmed to perfection.  He got through the crowd, and bent over to get a better look of the outsider.  "Hmmm...he carries a weapon," Masharo said, looking at the end of the scabbard which poked out from the tumbled heap of cloth.  He then stood erect again and looked at Zerran.  "Take him to your home, I am sure your mother will be able to take care of him until he recovers.  Meanwhile I will decide what is to happen next," Masharo explained.  Zerran, a bit confused, nodded and walked up to the fallen man, and scooped him up.  

He carried the man to his home which was not too far away.  He couldn't help but wonder who this man was, where he could have come from, and what he was doing here.  He was also excited for him to recover, because what intruiged him most, was the sword.  He reached his home, which was small and wooden, like the rest of the houses in the village.  He leaned his back against the door and pushed it open, entering the kitchen, where his mother was slicing some of the carrots.  He noticed the knives she was using had chips and scuffs on them, for thosehad been the ones he practiced with.  The kitchen wasn't very large.  A square wooden table with four chairs surrounding it sat in the center, while a long counter sat olong the wall with the circular window on it.  Many flower boxes were under the window, getting a healthy amount of sunlight and allowing the colorful plants to grow.  The hole in the far wall lead to Zerran's parents' room, while the one on the left led to the living room and the stairs, which lead to his own room.

"Glad your home, Zerran, your father wants you to- what is this!" she said as she turned around.  

"This man wandered into town and I guess collapsed.  he's in a bad state, Mister Masharo said that we should keep him here until he recovers," Zerran explained.  

"Y-y-es...if Masharo wishes..." Zerran's mother said.  She hastily prepared a bed in her own bedroom, and Zerran carried the stranger into it, and put him on top.  His mother removed the mans cloak and coat, and Zerran's eyes widened as he saw the whole of the scabbard.  Long and black, with a single red gem in the center.  And of the all the wonders of Earth Zerran had seen, he thought the hilt of the blade was the most beautiful of all.  The thick black hilt, with many metal blade-like attatchments rising and curving upwards from it.  And the end of it, where there at a ovular red gem.  Zerran soon found his hand moving towards the hilt...closer..closer..  "Zerran, go get me a wet towel," his mother said.  He shook his head, shattering the trance, and ran into the kitchen where he got a hide towel and dampened it in the water bucket.  He returned into the bedroom and handed it to his mother, who slowly swept it across the man's face, the hide slowly accumulating redness from he blood.  The soot came off, and Tigrez's clean face could be seen once more.  Zerran, on his mother's orders, took the mans shoes, and his sword, and put them in the corner.  He found it hard to release the blade, for this was the first time he had ever held a real weapon.  But he placed it in the corner anyway, and headed outside to practice his elementals.  

After a few hours, Zerran returned to his home, and found his parents were absent.  He shrugged and walked through the kitchen to head up to the stairs, when the stranger in the bed caught his eye.  With a quick glance left and right, he walked as quietly as he could into the bedroom, heading for the corner where the sword was.  He passed Tigrez, and looked down on him, making sure he was still unconscious.  He was just looking away, but then something caught his eye.  He could see what seemed to be a bit of a scorch mark emerging from under Tigrez's sleeve.  But something inside of him told him it wasn't what he thought...and he slowly lifted up the sleeve.  There he saw a tattoo.  It was completely black, and consisted of a single  bat-liek wing, and under it, odd inscriptions that he had never seen before.  Zerran shrugged and pulled the sleeve back over the man's wrist, and went for what he was really after.  He picked up the scabbard again, and ran his hand along the smooth case.  He grasped the hilt firmly with his hand, and smiled in anticipation.  His fingers tightened around both the hilt and the scabbard as he slowly seperated the two.

A high pitched roar filled Zerran's ears, and within a second he felt something wrap around his neck.  He could see that it must be an arm, and it was draped in black cloth.  He looked upwards as best as he could to see the part of the face of the man that had just been lying in the bed.  The sword suddenly left Zerran's hands and he was flung into the wall, and turned around quickly to hear that the noise had stopped, and to see the point of a black and violet sword nearly an inch away from his face.  Zerran trembled with fear, and his breath was cut short.  His eyes traveled the length of the blade, up the arm of it's holder, until his eyes met with the being.  Zerran flinched as sson as he made eye contact with the sheer brightness of the green in Tigrez's eye.   His face was twisten in an evil snarl and his nostrils flared.  

"Who are you, where am I?" Tigrez said angrily.  Zerran did not respond.  "Where am I!" Trigrez yelled.

"O-o-o-akside!" Zerran answered in terror.  "You wandered in here and collapsed a-a-nd my mother has been taking care of you!" he then screwed his eyes shut and flattened himself against the wall.  He did not open his eyes again until he heard the sliding of the sword returning to it's case. 

"Oakside...I don't even remember getting up after that fall..." Tigrez mumbled.

'Of course you don't, pathetic human.  I got us here, it was all me.  Again, you would be dead if it weren't for me,' that second, demon voice laughed in his head.

'Shut up, I am trying to make sense of this!' Tigrez snapped back.

"I...I see..." Tigrez said.  "You unsheathed my sword.  The blade and I are bonded, when it is removed from anyone but me, I am immedietly aware of it.  I thank you," Tigrez explained. 

"Your..welcome?"  Zerran said.

"What's all this, what's all this!" the voice of Zerran's father erupted.  He stormed into the room, his brown eyes narrowed.  He stuck out one of his fingers at Tigrez.  "You, you're awake," he said.

"Yes, and who, may I ask, are you?" Tigrez asked.

"Oh, I am this boy's father," he said, motioning to Zerran, " and this is my house.  My wife has been taking care of you," he explained.

"I see...yes, well," Tigrez said, "I have awoken, and am ready to leave here at once."  Zerran's eyes widened.  'That's it?' he thought.  'He's leaving?'

"I see, well, um, yes.." Zerran's father said, not knowing exactly what to say.  "Where are you headed?"

"Away from here... that is all I can say," Tigrez announced.  He quickly grabbed his apparel and donned his boots, and took leave through the front door.  Tigrez looked around at what lay before him.  

'Quite a change of pace from what we are normally used to, eh?' said the second voice.  Tigrez ignored it.  

"Umm, sir, err..I did not catch your name," said Zerran's father as he followed Tigrez out.

"I did not give it," Tigrez answered.  "But, seeing as you have helped me, my name is Ti...Tiran..yes, my name is Tiran," Tigrez said.  He could not give out his real name, for 'they' would come.  He did not want to put these people in danger.  "Now, what is the quickest way out of here?"

"Umm, the west exit, the way you came in," Zerran said.  He too was now standing outside.  

"Then I shall depart out the eastern side, which would be...this way, I presume?" Tigrez said, now facing a direction opposite of where he came.

"Yes, I must warn you though, the closest town here isn't for another-" Zerran's father was interrupted by a volley of screams.  Many villagers came running over the hill that lead down to the farms, many leaping and rolling down the slope.  Following them, there came a huge beast unlike anything Zerran had ever seen.  It had a shape that seemed to be a feline or canine, but was much larger, about the size of a large bear.  It had primarily black fure covering it's body, except for red patches over his eyes and red striped across the back.  It's head looked like a cross between a tiger and a bear, with a huge, gaping maw, and long black teeth.  It's eyes were bright purple, as was a ring of fur around it's cat-like tail.  It gave a mighty roar as it stood atop the hill, and looked around until it met eyes with Tigrez.

'Great,' Tigrez thought to himself, 'they already have their hounds on me.'  He swiftly drew his sword and dashed forward.

"Wait a minute..are you crazy!" Zerran's father called after him.  Tigrez moved his blade to his side as he ran, and when he was about halfway up the hill, leapt, and attempted to slash down on the beast.  The large 'hound' rolled to the side, however, and swished his tail once, and the appendage turned into a blade, which immedietly lashed out at Tigrez, who parried it with his sword.  After a failed tail strike, the creature leapt at Tigrez, flashing claws as long as knives.  Tigrez was quick to react, and jumped back, and rammed his fist into the face of the beast.  After his first succesful strike, Tigrez stabbed it in the shoulder with his blade.  The beast howled in pain and spewed black blood. It then took a few steps back and opened his mouth wide.  Tigrez leapt forward in attempt to ram his sword into the interior of the monster's esophogus, but as he drew nearer, the cat-like creature spat out a breath of black flame which sent Tigrez into the ground.  

'You should have expected that, you have fought these things before,' the demon within Tigrez scolded.  Tigrez again ignored it and got to his feet.  He held his sword behind him and stretched out his left arm.  Quickly, as the devlish cat was cutting off the rest of the flames, Tigrez muttered "blood of battle, dispose impurity and silence the weak!" and as he did, a pinpoint of silver light appeared in his palm.  The cat ran at Tigrez, but he fired out a spike of bright silver light, which found it's way through the chest of the beast.  The spike went into his body completely, leaving the feline to roar again in catastrophic agony.  If this were not enough, within a few seconds, smaller spikes of blood red light tore out of the monster's flesh.  After a large splatter of more blood, and a final roar, the creature fell silent.  Tigrez sighed in relief and sheathed his sword.  The corpse of the fallen creature then started to dissolve into a violet cloud, which shrieked and then dissipated.  

Zerran's father ran up to Tigrez, followed by Zerran, and Masharo, who had caught eye of the battle as well.  All three were thunderstruck.

"Where did you learn to do that!" Zerran said, but his question was easily overshadowed by those of his elders.  

"Are you some sort of sorceror?" asked Zerran's father.  Masharo's simple question was just to ask who he was.  Tigrez sighed.

"My name is Ti..ran, Tiran, and I am not a sorceror.  I am," Trigrez did not know what to call himself.  He needed something for these people to believe... "a simple wanderer...who has been granted special abilities through Temple Knight training and this enchanted sword."  There, that should work.  These simpletons would believe anything, wouldn't they.

"Well, Tiran of the Temple Knights!" Masharo said.  "I must tahnk you for saving the peaople of Oakside from that ravaging beast, and I say we have a feast in your honor, tonight!"

", I really can't, I must be going, I-" 

"Nonsense, as a wanderer, you deserve a good meal and a night's rest.  You have just recovered from an awful ordeal so it seems, so please, enjoy our fresh harvest with us!" Masharo said rather loudly, so the surrounding villagers could here.  They all nodded in agreement.

'I am hungry...' Tigrez thought to himself.  'I don't think they'll send anymore for at least another day or so..'

'I'm hungry too, dammit.  Eat their food.  Eat their food you don't even deserve.  If only they knew you were the only reason the Hellcat came here...'

'Shut up, just shut the hell up!' Tigrez roared internally.  The demon laughed.  

"Very well, I will accept your offer," Tigrez said.  'But...what if they come?'

The demon voice laughed.