Tales with a wiccia E-Book

Emil van Ree

• Herausgeber: Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 102

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

Konstantin Viniciente, wiccia. A being of extraordinary skills and prowess, monster hunter, mutant, savior and freak. However sitting with a spectre one night, leads him to open up on some of his tales in order to save his very soul and the life of himself trough his tales.

Leseprobe

Tales with a wiccia

Tales with a wicciaThe name of Konstantin VinicienteThe two brothersOn the road with the hang-manCalling of the hellhorseThe guardian of stoneThe princess and the witch-manOn the road with the hang-man IIThe doom of RensalThe last KindnessOn the road with the hang-man IIICopyright

Tales with a wiccia

The name of Konstantin Viniciente

Names are the most important piece of information in this world.

Legladus Yyrs, Tarin mage.

The priest hurried down the road towards the inn, it was raining so he pulled his hood up over his head. He didn’t like what he had to do but he was out of options now.

Seven weeks ago some horrible killings had been committed in the village it was clear from the beginning that it was monsters, and a couple of days later the priest found blood inside the church.

The trail of blood led down into the cellar where he discovered a huge gray and bloated beast which looked like a horrible caricature of man, drinking the blood and sucking the bone marrow out of a man it had recently killed. So now the priest hurried inside the inn where he had organized a meeting, he had written to an old friend who knew of man who could take care of the priest’s problems.Some sort of monster hunter he properly is. The priest thought as he looked around inside the dark yet cozy inn.

The tall bearded innkeeper was busy cleaning glasses but looked up at the priest and offered him a smile, ‘‘Greetings Father Sunth.’’ The innkeeper said. ‘‘There has been a stranger who asked for you.’’ ‘‘Is he still here?’’ Father Sunth asked looking around. The innkeeper pointed down towards the fireplace. ‘‘Down by the fire, father’’ He answered and returned to cleaning the glasses. Sunth thanked him and went down towards the fireplace; his eyes darted towards the scantly lit corner where the fire by some strange interventions, otherworldly or not refused to illuminate the surroundings, yet his divine powers allowed him to faintly detect an otherworldly presence. The priest steeled himself, the monster he had caught a glimpse of in the church cellar was frightening on its own but soon he had to trade words with a being that made a living out of monstrosities and was unnatural, with a low prayer toCauvia he settled into a chair with his front to the dark corner. From what the priest could gather the figure in front of him was a rather tall man clad in dark clothing as well as a cloak which blended well with the darkness surrounding him, the only color from the man originated from his eyes in the form of two small slits of unnatural blue, Sunth felt oddly cold whenever he looked at them.

‘‘Are you the priest?’’ The stranger asked, breaking the silence. ‘‘Yes, I am Father Sunth.’’ The priest then explained: ‘‘recently my church has become the nesting ground of the restless ones, I saw one in the cellar some weeks ago, against such loathsome beasts my powers are futile at best so I humbly ask for your help Mr. Monster-slayer.’’ The stranger smiled, to father Sunth it almost looked like a wolfish grin, if anything it made him more wolf-like then he already was.

‘’I’ll help you father Sunth, but first of all: I am not a monster slayer I am a what they call aWitch-man, or if you prefer to be dramatic you may call me a Wiccia monster-slayer makes it sound like I am making sport out of it, and second: There is of course payment to be discussed. The priest was silent for a while, he did know know that these kind of people didn't work for free but how much was he going to request for this job? ''How much?'' Sunth finally asked. The witch-man smiled his sinister smile again. ''You sound like you can't afford it, priest.'' ''Just tell me your price.'' The witch-man thought for a moment.

''How does 200 Garundt sound?'' He then asked. Sunth was speechless, this shady character in front of him, not only did he look sinister but he was being fair? ‘‘Only 200?'' ''Yes father, only 200, I want nothing more and nothing less.'' The witch-man smiled as wolfish as ever. Father Sunth allowed himself to smile a bit. ''Very well 200 it is.'' The witch-man pulled his long black cloak on and stood up. ''Shall we get going then? Night will soon fall, and that will give me the best opportunity to free you from whatever is haunting you.'' Sunth nodded slowly and rose from the table; the witch-man made his way up to the bar and talked a bit with the innkeeper. The innkeeper left and came back with a big box, it was black, manufactured by the help of lacquer and was decorated with all sorts of mythical beings.

But not the kind of mythical beings Farther Sunth preached about, there were the similarities like the big winged demon and like, but the similarities stopped there. Sunth saw giant snakelike things creeping up on the side of the box, and horned demons that were colored red and blue filled up other spaces, as did several other beings the priest never had the imagination to consider would or could exist.

The box itself had drawers and on the side of it, hang a black painted wooden sheath which was curved, the witch-man looked at the priest and sported a little smile- ‘’it’s a blade from another place father.’’ He said with ease. Sunth didn't have the mind to think up such a sword either, but he shouldn’t have been surprised about the peculiar choice of weaponry as the wiccias were known to employ various kinds of weapons both native and foreign. The witch-man stood in the door now and urged him to hurry, Sunth decided not to ask questions, at least not now.

Outside rain had begun to fall, Father Sunth looked up and so did his companion, the witch-man looked up and softly said: ''Evil is afoot.'' ''What are you talking about?'' Sunth asked, ''The rain is a sign that our noble god Cauvia is trying hard to wash away all of this worlds sins, and that evil must take refuge into the hellish chaos which it spawned from, lest they wish to drown.'' The priest in Sunth had spoken up he realized, the wiccia laughed a little and said: ''Evil comes in many forms father, not every creature is scared of rain.'' Sunth looked him and mulled slightly upon him. His words sounded strangely foreign, which he figured the witch-man to be, but from where? His skin was a bit darker than what he had seen, but not dark enough to be from Washawid, the great continent in the south.

His clothes where from this part of the world, maybe even from Odenfurds in Bretonia, but those eyes and his hair spoke of the cold northern lands, where beasts and man fought daily over the best patches of land and food, and where the wolves feared nothing. Not even horses.

Father Sunth had stopped up to think but the witch-man kept going until they were ten feet apart only then did he stop and call for the priest. At the sound of the witch-man's shouts, the priest hurried on and the kept walking to the church.

Night had fallen upon them when they reached the church. The tall Reganian tower looked grotesque with the night clouds cloaking it in a form of unholy embrace; it amazed Sunth as how they church always seemed to change character in the night.

''I believe it to be time to get to work.'' With those words the witch-man took his box off and put it on the ground, he then took his blade off and strapped it to his back. Then witch-man rummaged through the drawers carved into the box for a good while. ''What did you say in your letter that infested your church, Father?'' ''Some gray-skinned monster who looked like they just rose from the grave after a long time.’’ Sunth said and rubbed his arms, his church felt hostile towards him at the time.

The witch-man smiled. 'That was a Ghoul father, an undead or necroid who rise from the grave to hunt. The chaos which is concentrated around dead corpses who died violently, attracts ghouls and when they wake they start hunting.'' Sunth realized he had held his breath during the speech, he reluctantly asked: ''How to remove them then?'' The witch-man took a flask of oil out of a drawer and then pulled his curved sword out of its sheath, it was made of silver. ''With this sword Father, and this oil.'' Sunth looked on as he applied said oil to his sword giving it a yellowish tint in the metal, when he was done he placed his hand on top of his box and softly spoke out, it was too low for Sunth to hear. After the witch-man had spoken his box sank into the ground in a shimmer of light which caused the priest to jump a little.

''I am ready father.'' He said and made his way over to the Reganian looking church which seemed to become more grotesque looking as it grew darker,This will never become a holy place again. Sunth found himself thinking. The witch-man smiled his wolf smile again. ''Don't worry Sunth, once the ghouls have left this earth it will once more be a place worthy of worship of God.'' The witch-man then left trough the church's double oak wooden doors, entered into the dim darkness and left Sunth trembling with fear outside.

Inside the witch-man carefully observed his surroundings: the church was typical except for the signs that showed it hadn't been used for quite a while. The benches were out of order, some were broken and the altar had been partly destroyed. The witch-man ran his gloved hand over the damages.A claw belonging to a muscled hand. He thought calmly and got up on his feet.

The darkness grew around him but the wiccias sight allowed him to see through the darkness as if it was broad daylight.

He made his way down towards the cellar but, just before he stepped on the stairs the witch-man heard a growling sound and stepped away from the wall, in a second after a gray- skinned abomination came rushing to the spot where he had stood a moment before.

Barreling through the wall the ghoul now stood before the witch-man even lurched over it stood taller then an average man, as well as more muscled judging from its massive arms, far less human than it had once been its gray and bluish skin portrayed a sickly more beastial looking man who was bloated and swollen in various places, to accompany this horror was a horrific stench of equal parts burial and just as equally caked and dried leftovers from its prey, both living and dead. ''It saves me the trouble of looking for you at least.'' The witch-man said softly and went down into a stance. He held his sword pointed down towards the ground and placed one leg in front of the other bending it slightly.

The ghoul snarled, as the witch-man kept his gaze upon it. Then after what seemed an eternity the ghoul leapt at him, the witch-man waited then he stepped out of its way and dropped down to chop its legs.

As his silvery blade went through the decaying flesh the ghoul let out a terrifying scream which would have stopped a dozen brave men in their tracks and frozen them with fear, the witch-man however didn't stop, as his blade went out of the newly created wound he slashed downwards with a force powerful enough to let the ghoul roll forward a bit.

The ghoul came up on its legs again but the witch-man kept cutting and slashing in fluid motions keeping the ghoul on the defensive, finally he slashed his sword into its shoulder and felt the ghoul go limb on his sword. He kicked the now fast decaying body off and dried his sword of the blood; he cast a look on the ghoul before he finally made his way out of the church.

Outside he saw Father Sunth come running up to him, he had been running for quite a while ''I just went to gather the money Mr Witch-man.'' Sunth explained. The witch-man nodded and counted the money, ''It seems to add up Father, a pleasure during business with you.'' He went over to where he had buried his box and summoned it back again, after strapping his sword back on he waved to the priest and set off down the road.

''Wait!'' Sunth called out to him; ''I am grateful that you helped me and my community, but they will want to hear who helped them'' The wiccia turned to Sunth and asked: ''Why not tell them the divine powers of the Cauvia did this?'' ''Sometimes Cauvia isn't the force behind everything witch-man.'' Sunth replied. The witch-man smiled a bit and then said: ''Then tell your community that the witch-man Konstantin Viniciente helped them in their time of need.''