Post by Azrael Aurelius on Oct 18, 2013 8:28:56 GMT
Azrael watched as the moon came up over the horizon. It had been a dark crimson moon in the beginning before rising higher, there would be great death this night, and if Azrael had any part in it, the majority of it would be by his blade.
He could smell the meals of the soldiers as they hurriedly finished their meager breakfasts. The Yamato court had paid Azrael a very large some of gold and over two dozen of their most beautiful servant girls for him to eat, to aid in the battle today as they attempted to expand their control outwards in Japan. He had only been in the country for a few months but he found the people absolutely intriguing with their fascination on battle strategy and tactics.
He had studied for many years under various instructors before finally eating them after learning all he could, mastering each and every form of martial arts he could uncover. He had been a good warrior before coming to Japan, but now he was learned, he was disciplined. He knew that with each strike had to be a fatal strike on the battlefield, there was no time for multiple strikes when at any second a stray blade could take your own head from your shoulders. You had to live in constant motion, fluid and stable, choosing your strikes and never expending more energy than was necessary. His vampiric abilities simply aided his combat and made him a perfect predator, bred for destruction.
He was dressed simply, no armor, very loose dark clothing. He liked the versatility and with his vampiric skin it made him able to take more damage than the other soldiers. Not to mention they adored brightly colored battle armor and Azrael wanted to be able to dissappear at a second's notice if he ran into the Slayer that he'd been hearing so much about.
Apparently there was such a creature, a female at that, that was bred purely to kill vampires. Azrael had nearly killed the vampire who'd told him on the spot because he had thought the boy had been mocking him, but no he'd heard through many others, the tales of the Slayers dating back for millenia. Azrael knew he was a killing machine, but he also preferred living and if a Slayer stood up to her name, she would be more than a match for him.
If Alala could only see him now, but for all he knew she was halfway across the world right now, actually he did know, he could still feel it and he hated it. He hated her, she held him back, she still held on to the a fragment of her humanity that saw beauty in everything and it was sickening to him, Azrael just wanted things to bleed.
He leaned down and grabbed his blade, hooking the scabbard across his back as he pulled it from its sheathe, holding it infront of himself as he inspected it for the hundredth time that day. It had to be sharp and perfect, no flaws or dents because that would mess with his aerodynamics and the way the sword reacted once inside someone's body.
He moved out into the darkness, the horde of samurai following behind him. Normally samurai fought with a code of honor, a set of morals they would live by, but these men were shinobi, outcasts, those without morals, those who killed for money, or like himself, for the pure thrill of it. Even though they were human they were his kind, killers, each of them trained, though none of them as deadly as he, and they all knew it.
The other warriors didn't know exactly what to think of Azrael, vampires weren't too prominent in Japan at this time and the ones that were there mainly kept to themselves. He had whispers of "demon" floating through the ranks, it made no matter to him as long as they didn't get in his way.
It took hours of marching before they finally reached the village. The Yamato Clan wanted one of the neighboring clans vanquished, completely eliminated from history. Azrael forgot their name, it didn't matter, for after tonight they wouldn't have a name and would become ghosts from the minds of men for eternity. Azrael had seen the way history was written by the victor, and it was astonishing the things people would believe.
Finally they reached the village's front gates and immediately Azrael knew their had been a spy in their own ranks because hundreds of samurai awaited them at the village's entrance, they had known of their coming. A smile crept its way to Azrael's lips, this would be even more fun than he imagined.
With a beastly roar his face suddenly transformed, his brow elongating and showing the demon within, his fangs snapping downwards and shifting his eyes into a deep blood red color , pure bloodthirst. He shot into the midst of the samurai, drawing his sword within the process and spun into their ranks, sending blood sprays shooting left and right, catching light from the moon and illuminating his path as he cut through the samurai front, moving so fast he almost left aftertrails in his wake.
Warriors dropped in every direction Azrael moved, he was death incarnate and ripping his way through every man that was unfortunate enough to step infront of him. Dozens of nicks and cuts appeared on his form, but they hardly even fazed him, even a sword ran directly through his stomach didn't even slow him down as he filled the night air with blood, occasionally grabbing a warrior to drink from as he hacked his prey to pieces.
Echoing laughter could be heard from within the battlefield as the other soldiers joined. The laughter seemed to come from everywhere at once as Azrael seemed to zip around the battlefield, laughing maniacally as he cut men down.
Out of nowhere Azrael felt the hilt of a sword slam into the back of his head with enough force to send him sprawling forward before he quickly shifted his momentum and rolled to his feet, the back of his skull throbbing in pain.
"The hell....?" He roared as he looked up, only to find a small Japanese woman standing infront of him, clutching a beautifully made samurai sword. It was very impressive and immediately drew his attention before the woman, he was going to have that sword. He shifted his gaze back to the woman, a chill running down his spine momentarily. "The Slayer..." He spat, venom dripping from his voice.
The girl said nothing, he could tell she was disciplined, well learned, though she didn't have the years in her lifespan to learn the things Azrael had. She just leaped towards Azrael, whipping her blade towards him. Immediately Azrael's katana caught her blow and deflected it backward, spinning towards her to send an elbow crashing into the girl's face and sending her rolling backwards onto the ground.
She quickly recovered and got to her feet as Azrael walked towards her, confidence growing as he saw the fear building in her eyes. She knew Azrael was not the average vampire, he wasted no time in shooting forwards pressing his own attack. Every move he made she would deflect but each time it came just a millisecond slower, each time her strength began to fade a tiny hair. He knew that her stamina would not outlast his and if they stayed evenly matched like this he would win.
Suddenly a wooden stake slammed into his chest, thankfully he'd been spinning into an attack and it had missed his heart by a couple of inches. He felt his rage spiral out of control as he realized how easily the girl could have just ended his entire existence there because he was getting full of himself. A beastial roar ripped through the battlefield as he leaped towards her, his sword falling to the ground. The girl hadn't expected this approach and out of reflex moved backwards, pointing the blade upwards as he came crashing down on her.
The blade stuck through Azrael's stomach and out of his back, and normally this would have been a fatal blow for the Slayer's opponent, but she knew immediately that she had made a mistake. With lightning quick movements Azrael was on the the girl's throat, his fangs ripping into her flesh as he drank the sweetest blood he'd ever tasted in his years walking the earth. It was pure magic to his tastebuds and electrifying energy to his bloodstream, he felt almost alive for a moment, almost human with the rush it gave him, and it made him want more and more and more.
He ignored the battle that raged around him as he viciously fed on the Slayer, her eyes wide with fear and her mouth frozen in a silent scream as the life was slowly being drained from her body. After a few moments she stopped moving and Azrael pulled himself from her form, blood soaking his face and the front of his clothing, looking every bit the part of a bloodthirsty demon.
Men from both sides spotted him, crying out in terror as he began unleashing upon every man around him, whether he be shinobi or their target, he hadn't realized it but the battle had been waging for a moment and the troops on both sides had thinned considerably.
It was mayhem as Azrael ripped into them, men ran screaming in every direction, abandoning their fight as outcries of "Demon! Run for your life!" began pouring from every direction.
Several moments later Azrael sat atop the last remaining hut of the village, the rest of the buildings blazing brilliantly after he'd lit them aflame. An audible burp escaped his lips as he used the wet piece of cloth in his hand to clear off the stained blood around his chin and mouth. He felt engorged, more full than he'd ever felt as a human, like he was about to bust. It was almost a sickly feeling, but it was a good feeling, like for once in his vampiric existence his hunger had been momentarily sated.
He knew the next day he would be even more hungry though and he knew he would be that much more happy to feed himself. Killing was fun, and he was good at it, why not enjoy what you do?
He reached for the intricately designed sword to his right, the one the Slayer had been carrying, and sheathed it into the scabbard on his back, tossing his old sword to the ground as he leaped from the hut, a torch left in his wake as it too went up in flames. His contract was completed, he'd gained a new weapon, and learned that Slayers could bleed just like any other human.
He could smell the meals of the soldiers as they hurriedly finished their meager breakfasts. The Yamato court had paid Azrael a very large some of gold and over two dozen of their most beautiful servant girls for him to eat, to aid in the battle today as they attempted to expand their control outwards in Japan. He had only been in the country for a few months but he found the people absolutely intriguing with their fascination on battle strategy and tactics.
He had studied for many years under various instructors before finally eating them after learning all he could, mastering each and every form of martial arts he could uncover. He had been a good warrior before coming to Japan, but now he was learned, he was disciplined. He knew that with each strike had to be a fatal strike on the battlefield, there was no time for multiple strikes when at any second a stray blade could take your own head from your shoulders. You had to live in constant motion, fluid and stable, choosing your strikes and never expending more energy than was necessary. His vampiric abilities simply aided his combat and made him a perfect predator, bred for destruction.
He was dressed simply, no armor, very loose dark clothing. He liked the versatility and with his vampiric skin it made him able to take more damage than the other soldiers. Not to mention they adored brightly colored battle armor and Azrael wanted to be able to dissappear at a second's notice if he ran into the Slayer that he'd been hearing so much about.
Apparently there was such a creature, a female at that, that was bred purely to kill vampires. Azrael had nearly killed the vampire who'd told him on the spot because he had thought the boy had been mocking him, but no he'd heard through many others, the tales of the Slayers dating back for millenia. Azrael knew he was a killing machine, but he also preferred living and if a Slayer stood up to her name, she would be more than a match for him.
If Alala could only see him now, but for all he knew she was halfway across the world right now, actually he did know, he could still feel it and he hated it. He hated her, she held him back, she still held on to the a fragment of her humanity that saw beauty in everything and it was sickening to him, Azrael just wanted things to bleed.
He leaned down and grabbed his blade, hooking the scabbard across his back as he pulled it from its sheathe, holding it infront of himself as he inspected it for the hundredth time that day. It had to be sharp and perfect, no flaws or dents because that would mess with his aerodynamics and the way the sword reacted once inside someone's body.
He moved out into the darkness, the horde of samurai following behind him. Normally samurai fought with a code of honor, a set of morals they would live by, but these men were shinobi, outcasts, those without morals, those who killed for money, or like himself, for the pure thrill of it. Even though they were human they were his kind, killers, each of them trained, though none of them as deadly as he, and they all knew it.
The other warriors didn't know exactly what to think of Azrael, vampires weren't too prominent in Japan at this time and the ones that were there mainly kept to themselves. He had whispers of "demon" floating through the ranks, it made no matter to him as long as they didn't get in his way.
It took hours of marching before they finally reached the village. The Yamato Clan wanted one of the neighboring clans vanquished, completely eliminated from history. Azrael forgot their name, it didn't matter, for after tonight they wouldn't have a name and would become ghosts from the minds of men for eternity. Azrael had seen the way history was written by the victor, and it was astonishing the things people would believe.
Finally they reached the village's front gates and immediately Azrael knew their had been a spy in their own ranks because hundreds of samurai awaited them at the village's entrance, they had known of their coming. A smile crept its way to Azrael's lips, this would be even more fun than he imagined.
With a beastly roar his face suddenly transformed, his brow elongating and showing the demon within, his fangs snapping downwards and shifting his eyes into a deep blood red color , pure bloodthirst. He shot into the midst of the samurai, drawing his sword within the process and spun into their ranks, sending blood sprays shooting left and right, catching light from the moon and illuminating his path as he cut through the samurai front, moving so fast he almost left aftertrails in his wake.
Warriors dropped in every direction Azrael moved, he was death incarnate and ripping his way through every man that was unfortunate enough to step infront of him. Dozens of nicks and cuts appeared on his form, but they hardly even fazed him, even a sword ran directly through his stomach didn't even slow him down as he filled the night air with blood, occasionally grabbing a warrior to drink from as he hacked his prey to pieces.
Echoing laughter could be heard from within the battlefield as the other soldiers joined. The laughter seemed to come from everywhere at once as Azrael seemed to zip around the battlefield, laughing maniacally as he cut men down.
Out of nowhere Azrael felt the hilt of a sword slam into the back of his head with enough force to send him sprawling forward before he quickly shifted his momentum and rolled to his feet, the back of his skull throbbing in pain.
"The hell....?" He roared as he looked up, only to find a small Japanese woman standing infront of him, clutching a beautifully made samurai sword. It was very impressive and immediately drew his attention before the woman, he was going to have that sword. He shifted his gaze back to the woman, a chill running down his spine momentarily. "The Slayer..." He spat, venom dripping from his voice.
The girl said nothing, he could tell she was disciplined, well learned, though she didn't have the years in her lifespan to learn the things Azrael had. She just leaped towards Azrael, whipping her blade towards him. Immediately Azrael's katana caught her blow and deflected it backward, spinning towards her to send an elbow crashing into the girl's face and sending her rolling backwards onto the ground.
She quickly recovered and got to her feet as Azrael walked towards her, confidence growing as he saw the fear building in her eyes. She knew Azrael was not the average vampire, he wasted no time in shooting forwards pressing his own attack. Every move he made she would deflect but each time it came just a millisecond slower, each time her strength began to fade a tiny hair. He knew that her stamina would not outlast his and if they stayed evenly matched like this he would win.
Suddenly a wooden stake slammed into his chest, thankfully he'd been spinning into an attack and it had missed his heart by a couple of inches. He felt his rage spiral out of control as he realized how easily the girl could have just ended his entire existence there because he was getting full of himself. A beastial roar ripped through the battlefield as he leaped towards her, his sword falling to the ground. The girl hadn't expected this approach and out of reflex moved backwards, pointing the blade upwards as he came crashing down on her.
The blade stuck through Azrael's stomach and out of his back, and normally this would have been a fatal blow for the Slayer's opponent, but she knew immediately that she had made a mistake. With lightning quick movements Azrael was on the the girl's throat, his fangs ripping into her flesh as he drank the sweetest blood he'd ever tasted in his years walking the earth. It was pure magic to his tastebuds and electrifying energy to his bloodstream, he felt almost alive for a moment, almost human with the rush it gave him, and it made him want more and more and more.
He ignored the battle that raged around him as he viciously fed on the Slayer, her eyes wide with fear and her mouth frozen in a silent scream as the life was slowly being drained from her body. After a few moments she stopped moving and Azrael pulled himself from her form, blood soaking his face and the front of his clothing, looking every bit the part of a bloodthirsty demon.
Men from both sides spotted him, crying out in terror as he began unleashing upon every man around him, whether he be shinobi or their target, he hadn't realized it but the battle had been waging for a moment and the troops on both sides had thinned considerably.
It was mayhem as Azrael ripped into them, men ran screaming in every direction, abandoning their fight as outcries of "Demon! Run for your life!" began pouring from every direction.
Several moments later Azrael sat atop the last remaining hut of the village, the rest of the buildings blazing brilliantly after he'd lit them aflame. An audible burp escaped his lips as he used the wet piece of cloth in his hand to clear off the stained blood around his chin and mouth. He felt engorged, more full than he'd ever felt as a human, like he was about to bust. It was almost a sickly feeling, but it was a good feeling, like for once in his vampiric existence his hunger had been momentarily sated.
He knew the next day he would be even more hungry though and he knew he would be that much more happy to feed himself. Killing was fun, and he was good at it, why not enjoy what you do?
He reached for the intricately designed sword to his right, the one the Slayer had been carrying, and sheathed it into the scabbard on his back, tossing his old sword to the ground as he leaped from the hut, a torch left in his wake as it too went up in flames. His contract was completed, he'd gained a new weapon, and learned that Slayers could bleed just like any other human.
