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| A Day In The Life of a Templar | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 9 2008, 06:35 AM (40 Views) | |
| Deadly.dB | Mar 9 2008, 06:35 AM Post #1 |
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Newbie
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Dust hung heavily in the air, visible clearly by the heavy ray of sunlight bursting forth from the moth-eaten curtains. Broken glass and unkempt floorboards cracked under a heavy booted foot, moving from room to room on the upper level of a townhouse. Once the home of a family of four, 2 children and parents, this home was just another page in the deep and horrible tale that was the Hellgate chronicles. The ventilation systems on the helmet of the Templar knight made a quiet, whining sound in the depressing silence. Every turn taken was lead by a sword opening a door or slicing down make-shift curtains. More than one skeleton, presumably human and some possibly demon judging by the shape, had been found in the remains of this once beautiful home. The knight rationalized it as simply squatters trying to survive in looted shelter after the initial invasion, though he couldn’t deny the logical truth, the cruel fate of the family of which memorabilia was evident everywhere around the house. His footsteps were heavy, but stealth was the least of his worries. The demons encountered most frequently in this part of the city were far more concerned with smell than sound and there was little that could be done to cover up the distinctive smell of a fresh meal. Scanning the room and confirming it was clear, he lowered his guard, sword dropping point first, it was held loosely in his grasp. Spotting a family photograph among the rubble, broken and half charred a tinge of sympathy welled up within him. Kneeling and picking up the photo with his free hand, the smiling family was obviously Irish, red-headed and freckled. Emotion is impossible to see through the Templar’s nano-tech titanium helm but the aura of sadness was heavy within the room. Growling cut through the house, clear and yet distorted at the same time. Instantly on his guard, the Templar spun on his heel bringing his sword to face, awaiting any attack coming his way. The sound of what he knew to be a Carnagor rustling through the kitchen on the first floor signaled his adrenaline to begin pumping. Perfectly still, the knight waited for the Carnagor to make its move first, though out of sight, it was inevitable that it would catch the scent before long. As expected the noises stopped below after only a few intense seconds and silence ensued. Moving to the edge of the doorway for a clear look at the stairs down the hallway, the knight prepared himself and wrung his grip on the sword. Furious stomping and snarls came soon after, thrashing up the stairs and drawing closer. Knuckles turned white on the hilt and the Templar prepared to make his move. Already having ascended the stairs the beast was but a few meters away as the Templar let out a ferocious roar and swung his sword out low and wide. The demon was about the size of a pit bull but many times more bulky, with a combination of leathery skin and thick hide. Most terrifying was the monster’s teeth, many jagged needles and several larger fangs extending from its wicked jaws, ready to tear flesh from bone in an instant. The sword landed square on the flat of the head, cleaving away a chunk of flesh and scraping some bone. A roar filled the home as the beast went headlong over itself down the hallway. Quickly recovering the knight rolled into the hallway, remained crouched in a battle stance, sword raised over head with both hands, point facing firmly towards the flailing monster. Thrashing and wailing, the Carnagor cracks drywall as it tries to recover. It quickly succeeds and begins a headlong charge at the Templar, teeth bared. Stocky hind legs launch it into the air and knocking the knight into his own roll down the hallway. Wicked fangs bite and pierce thick nano armor and blood pours freely out of the wounds. A scream is muffled by the knight’s helmet and his own determination to survive. Finally landing on his back, once arm in the vice-grip of the Carnagor’s jaws, he brings the sword straight up to pierce the side of the demon’s head, even if only for a few centimeters. Not noticing, the jaws clamp harder and more thrashing follows, giving the knight a split second to get just a little more leverage. Tilted to one side, full-advantage is taken of the situation and the sword is pushed several inches deeper in the skull of the Carnagor, piercing the brain. Dark blood oozes from the wound, covering the hilt of the finely crafted sword. Its jaws loosen and his bloody arm is retracted and cradled as the knight stumbles up, falling the first few attempts. Once finally up on his feet, he planted a boot on the beast’s head and pulled the sword from the fallen Demon’s carcass. Dragging the weapon across the broken floorboards and through the blood flowing through the halls, the knight returns to the exit, willing to loot a few more homes before returning to the local refugee base camp. This was the life of a Templar knight and it was well known that death was a matter of “when” and “how painful” in this line of work. Despite the pain, a smile found its way onto the warrior’s face. However, his heavy titanium helmet kept his expression as cold and emotionless as possible. |
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12:54 AM Jul 11