|
|
|
Im going to post some of my stories in here from time to time. Sometimes they will be what I have been working on for a while. Other times, like this first one, will be backstories of some of my characters. To start it off is my most famous character from the old days of yahoo. Ladies and Gentleman, from my site ( http://www.freewebs.com/svmike ) I give you Vermilion Bloodrain ( head to the site for pics of him and more info )
Vermilion's tale begins before man was even thought of. During the Ethereal Plane Wars, there was a forbidden love. His father, an angel fighting for the sake of good, fell in love with his mother, a demon from the other world. The two of them began seeing much of each other, despite the war going on as it were. In time, they were secretly wed by one of his father's best friends. The two of them began to abandon many a post on the front lines to be with each other, and from their union spawned Vermilion, as well as his many brothers and sisters. Eventually, they were discovered, and exiled from both realms. A council of angels was called to decide what would become of the children borne from what they considered an unholy union. It was decided that the children would be cast out of heaven. So, with Vermilion and his siblings knowing nothing, and being innocent, they were cast, scattered to the many corners of the newly formed world, which was going through its newest era, where warlords reigned. Vermilion landed softly, not crying from his descent. He was hidden inside of a cave that had formed over time, and slowly began to grow. Had he stayed in heaven, it would have taken centuries for him to begin growing and maturing as humans do. But cast out, it took far less time than that. Within the first sixty years of his life, he became a toddler, and slowly walked out of the cave. Knowing nothing of the world, or anyting in it, he wandered for what seemed forever. By the time he was old enough to begin doing things upon his own, it was the era of kings and knights, dukes and castles. He was adopted by a family who had been passing by one of many grassy plains. He enjoyed his time with his family, and grew strong with them. His family had noticed, that upon his back were two large scars. They asked him of it before, each time him replying that he did not know. They figured it was a bit of amnesia, and would usually forget it. Around the time that king Arthur took the throne, he had joined the knights of the kingdom he lived in. He studied well, and improved in a very short time with swordsmanship, archery, shield bearing and spear weilding. Many royal magicians also grew fond of the boy, and taught him arcane arts. He gained fame in his life, and was soon one of the top advisemen and fighters of the kingdom. While traveling alone one night, he came upon a dark mage. The two of them spoke, and eventually stopped at an inn for the night. As Vermilion was getting ready to bathe, the mage saw the marks on his back, gasping. Acting quickly, the mage cast an incantation, and stole Vermilion's near immortality from his bones, as well as most of his soul. Weakened, Vermilion could do nothing, and the mage slew him at the inn. He then killed all those there, and hurried off into the night...
Vermilion's body lay there, unmoving. The spark of life in his eyes seemed to be gone forever. Without warning, the inn began to shake, as the earth opened, swallowing it whole, and all who were inside. When Vermilion awoke, he was in limbo. Looking around, he couldnt fathom how he got there. Suddenly, illusions of his parents came to him. They explained everything to him, from his heritage, to his powers, to how he got on earth. When they had finished, he wept, and fell to his knees. His parents comforted him, telling him that he would not die, not yet. As long as the mage kept what was stolen from him, he would be reborn, time and again, unable to die. At that, the illusions vanished, and Vermilion drew life. As he looked around, he noticed he was in a cabin of some sort. He was nude, under sheets and in a bed. He touched his head softly, sweating from the images, and got out of bed. Looking around, he found a woman there, and asked who she was. She explained that she was his sister, and could not believe he had forgotten that. He shook his head once more, and went back to the room he awoke in. Dressing himself, he walked back to her, asking her the date. His mind reeled when she answered him. He was alive, fifty years after he had died. Walking out of the house, he looked about. A peaceful valley, as far as the eye could see. He had no idea how it happened fully, but then he recalled what his parents told him. He decided it was best to simply live as though he understood. Walking back to his sister, he apoligized for seeming weird, and the two sat down to eat. A few years passed with them living together. Vermilion was coming home one day after chopping some firewood. He opened the cabin door, and dropped the wood in shock. A bandit was at the table, waiting for him. On the ground, his sister cradled her stomach, surrounded in her own blood. The bandit told him that he knew Vermilion's true identity. Outraged, Vermilion grabbed one of the logs, launching himself at the bandit. They fought hard, flying out of the cabin and into the valley. The bandit began to run, and Vermilion gave chase. A short while after, the bandit stopped before a bank. Only water seperated him from freedom, but the currents were far to strong to swim. He turned, seeing the angry face of Vermilion. The two fought, each one being mortally wounded. The bandit fell into the raging water, holding his bloodied head from the bludgering Vermilion gave him. Vermilion himself fell to the ground, huddling his chest. He took a breath, his eyes opening wide, and threw his head back. His backside ripped open, and a flurry of feathers surrounded him. Gasping for air, he looked back, to see two wings greet him. His left wing was raven black, while his right wing was snow white. He trembled in pain, but then recalled his sister. Forgetting he had wings, he began to run, struggling but eventually making his way back into the cabin. He knelt before his sister. who was not going to last long, and wept. She looked to him, touching his cheek with a smile, and told him not to cry. She let him know that she always knew who he was, and that she was not his true sister. There had been tales her father told her long ago when she was a child. Tales of the great hero Vermilion, and of all his brave and noble deeds, and how he vanished from the earth suddenly. She then told him that years later, she found him in the valley. She kept herself there, building the cabin, and laid his body in the bed. She had not expected him to awaken when he did, but she was glad regardless. She asked for one final thing before she left their world, and he nodded, knowing what it was. Leaning down, he kissed her softly, and let one tear fall. It ran down his face, and touched her cheek. She broke the kiss, and with the last of her strength, told him that she loved him, and was happy to have met him. He nodded, and as she closed her eyes, he could see her soul materialize itself. He stood, and gasped as she entered his right wing. It glowed softly, and then settled down. He held her body to him, and cried out in pain and anger. After he finished weeping, he took her body out into the most beautiful part of the valley. There, he buried her, offering a small prayer, and turned to the sky. Opening his wings, he lept into the air, taking flight into the clouds.
To him, his time in the sky felt like decades. When he finally landed, it was on the outskirts of a town. Folding his wings around him, he waited until nightfall, and made his way into the city. He peeked around corner, and moved within the shadows. Seeing a torn banner, he ripped it down, wrapping it about himself as a cloak. Satisfied, he walked out into the main streets. Those that were out took him for a wandering traveler, and showed him the closest inn. Nodding in thanks, he made his way there, paying for a room. Later that same night, there was an emergency. He opened his doors, to find a young man, no more than sixteen, being carried to his level of the inn. Letting them know he was up, he offered his room, and helped them lead the boy in. They sent for a doctor, as he asked what the problem was. As it so happened, this young man was the son of one of the richest men in the village. The man was kind, seeing to the people and making sure they were well cared for. However, he was also the constant target of attacks. This night, one had success. The unknown assailant crept into the mans home, and slew most of the servants and workers. One of the ones that got away informed the man and his family, and they made their way out. His son, however, stayed behind. Holding an unsteady blade, he challegend the assailant, and was cut down immediatly. Vermilion moved back after hearing this, as the doctor made his way into the room. They made it just in time, and the boy would be fine. Several weeks had passed before the boy awoke. No one had seen the father, as the assailant, turning out to be an infamous robber named Koshar, took over the mans hpuse and wealth, running the village as his own. The boy was informed on all that happened, and began to curse his own weakness. In him, Vermilion saw so much potential. Calling the boy out later than night, he began teaching him the art of swordsmanship. They trained every night for a few months straight. Finally, the boy felt it was time. Asking Vermilion to come with him, he headed for his fathers previous house, and demanded to see Koshar. He came, with a few of his men, and the boy challenged him. His men held Vermilion back, who had been able to keep his secret thus far with careful movement and abadon. In the day, he kept the cloak about himself. At night, he had his white wing cover his form, the black one blending well with the night. The men formed a circle around their leader and the boy. The two charged for each other, each one masterfully using their weapons to attack, block, and counterattack. It was going on far to long, it would seem. Some of the leaders men stepped in, slashing the boy on his back. Vermilion gasped, and was still being held back by the other men. Koshar laughed, and raised his blade. The boy watched, laying on his side and wounded, as the blade came down, cutting him across the neck. He had enough time to look to Vermilion, before his life left him. Vermilion blinked, falling to his knees. He growled, his normally calm eyes flashing. They began to change, turning into his name sake, the color of burning blood. He threw the cloak away, and extended his wings. The other men were caught off guard, as he slew most of them in that instant. The others recovered, and proceeded to gang up on him. He defended as best he could, but they had numbers over his skill. By the time the last one was dead, and he faced Koshar, he had been pierced, slashed, cut, and stabbed multiple times. His wings were bloody at some points, and feathers missing. He and Koshar stood each other down. Koshar ran at him, as he stumbled. Right when the blade was to go down on Vermilion's head, Vermilion thrust his hand forth. A split second later, his crown would have been split in two. Koshar gacked, dropping the blade and looked down. Vermilion's hand cut clean through him to the other side. As he pulled his hand out, Koshar's lifeless body fell to the earth. Vermilion then slowly made his way for the young boy, as his soul materialized. The boy smiled, and entered Vermilion's black wing. Smiling, his eyes rolled into his head, and he fell, lifeless.
Once more the earth opened up, and swallowed the mans mansion, the boys body, and the bandits, as well as Vermilion. Time went on for the village, and the man came back. When they informed him of what transpired, he could only weep. Meanwhile, Vermilion was once more in limbo. His parents did not come, but instead, he saw a blade on the ground. It was finely crafted, far superior to anything he had ever seen. Ancient markings were driven into the blade, as he heard a voice call out. The voice told him this was the sacred blade Ragnarok, the Ender. He had been deemed set to weild it, in light of his valor. He was informed that the blade always chose its weilder, and in the hands of any other, it would repel them without the slightest provocation. Suddenly, Vermilion drew breath once more. He sat up, and found himself in the middle of a forest. Looking to his side, wrapped in cloth, was Ragnarok. Standing, he picked the blade up, and looked to his wings. They now seemed to have a mind of their own, thanks to the two souls in them. Smiling, he placed the blade to his side, and began walking forth. His image slowly faded into the wooded area...
From here, many tales of Vermilion are told. One tale suggests he redeemed himself, and was sent back to heaven. There he became a high guard in the royal army, always leading his men to victory. Another tale says that he found a new land, and was made to soverign its people as king. Yet another tale states him marrying another angel, and watching over an entirely new realm as the higher beings in the land. And yet another tells of him being bound to a fallen as brothers, and the two of them living their lives. Yet, the only tale that has any truth states that he founded an inn, and began his new life there. He met, fell in love with, married and raised a family with a vampire named Angelika. He joined a clan that called themselves Bloodrain. His bride, whom he loved with all his heart, died and left the world. He also sought out and was able to find his other siblings, and using his own powers, and the souls of the two in his wings, crafted a new blade, which he named Futago-za, or "Gemini". The only proof that this tale is true is in his sole heirs. His eldest daughter, Jabez Vermilion, who weilds the blade Soul Reaper. His second in line, Lisa Vermilion, who weilds Futago-za. And finally, his son Ezekiel, who weilds the dual blades Sol and Luna. These three are the only proof that he ever truly existed. As for Vermilion himself? No one really knows. Some say he has finally passed on. Others say he continued roaming, and helped to bring about the great nations. For now, whenever the wind is howling, and the moon is full, some say they spot a glimpse of a streak, a shadow, flying in the sky at lightning speed. It is him, still flying the world, making sure all is well and right, as it should be.
 No One No Thing King · Sun Dec 02, 2007 @ 04:05pm · 2 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
