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SNATCHERS AND AUTHORS
Eru ☘
It was cold, it was dark, and it was quiet.
Out of the three, it was only one Eru fancied, the former two being the obvious inconveniences.
He was already in an irritable state after being awoken to go on his next mission by Drago himself and the chilling night, damp air and unsettling atmosphere did nothing to raise his spirits.
He let out a series of grumbles as he looked down at his bare feet, the bronze skin now sored up with peeling flesh, barely dry blood, and thin cuts under his toes.
This whole situation was ridiculous.
Sure, he was the last of his kind, but he definitely wasn't the only Snatcher in the whole Empire. And it being that he hadn't fully recovered from his last mission, they could have at least given him the night off.
But no, not Drago.
When he wanted something, he got it the way he wanted, using whoever he wanted, and to the detriment of anything that stood in his way.
The sick bastard still coming out looking innocently coy after all is said and done.
Eru slowly and silently stood up from his crouched position, his lips thinning in added irritation as he felt the grave mud seep into his toes and sting the open wounds.
On a normal day –if his days were to be considered normal- the feeling would not have caused him the least bit discomfort but just like his last mission, the land was cursed by Felizo, its owner, hence, successfully stumping the healing and numbing build in Eru's system.
His blue, diamond eyes sparkled in the dark night as they narrowed in on the castle a few miles ahead of him.
Built in the ancient castle, was a 900m (approximately 3000 feet) tall tower that held the sole reason for his current sleep-deprived state.
It would be an easy climb. Easier if his feet weren't so bruised up.
He raked his hand through his disheveled black locks and tilted his head from side to side, the soft crackles of them unknotting echoing in the night as he stretched.
Rolling his arms backward and arching his back, a sigh left his lips along with the knots and cracks of his once tense muscles, eyes never leaving the tower as he stretched again, relaxing every bone in his build.
Returning to the crouched position he was once in, the tall grasses tickled his chest, leaving invincible traces on his bronze skin as his muscles flexed once more.
Since the tower was ancient and the cracked walls with dried-up cement and open spaces were enough evidence of its constantly ageing structure, the climb would be smooth and fast.
A controlled breath left his lips and he flexed his toes, ignoring the stinging sensation that shot through his soles.
Get in, get it, and get out.
He sprinted forth.
Eru's feet hit the ground with silent speed. Not even a thud was heard as he ran through the forest and towards the castle.
Swift, calm and silent; the definition of himself and his movements.
Each step he took, whether running or walking, was quiet.
As though he floats off the ground, his legs never touching it.
His silent feet alongside his immense high speed gave the impression of flight as he scaled the castle walls.
As soon as his feet hit the tiled floor, Eru is met by over a dozen Gelifapos, their slimy green, lizard-like skin and four slit amber eyes staring at him as their snake-like tongues hissed, opening their pores to let the poisonous yellow goo seep out.
Their toad feet took a defensive stance, webbed yet eerily nailed hands spread towards Eru in an attempt to compel him away.
Eru watched in absolute disgust as the gills on their moldy jaw contracted, aiming mosquito-like sounds at him in loud threats.
One could instantly die just by inhaling the ooze that seeped out their pores but Eru had long since programmed his organs and senses to block out anything he wasn't willing to let in.
He held his breath, slowly pulling out a sharp, intricately bent knife nestled in his jeans.
He tentatively scanned the horde, noticing how simultaneously precise their movements were with one another,
How strange.
Gelifapos weren't known for their unanimity. They were scattered in both their thought process (when they managed to have one) and their actions, never moving at the same pace or style with another,
They were incredibly deadly, but their greatest weakness was their roughness and inability to think fast (or at all in some cases) alongside their overbearing individual confidence.
Hence, the scene of them moving in sync was a peculiar one for sure.
Eru couldn't sense Felizo's magic in any of them and from his studies on the great magician, he was like Drago, sending people to do his dirty work.
The difference is that, unlike Drago, he wasn't innocently coy with his works. He was, by all means, crafty, haughty, wicked, and intelligent.
And he silently owned it.
Testing his theory, Eru shifted his leg against the floor, purposely making a sound and watching as all their eyes trailed down exactly at the same time before quickly looking up at him and uniformly stepping forth.
He was right. If Felizo wasn't here and they weren't being controlled by him, that left only one explanation; phantasmagorical illusions.
Eru rarely came across brained creatures that were gifted with phantasmagorical illusions and could successfully pull it off, deceiving the eye that they were many when in fact they were one, talk less of encountering Gelifapo illusionist.
He scanned the room, trying to identify the original, and his eyes locked with a definitely real intense set of amber ones.
Before the creature could even process the thought of making a move, Eru's knife had already left his hold.
He watched in satisfaction as the knife smoothly cut through the air, every image it touched slowly vaporizing in hues of green and red, efficaciously clearing the way and making a path to the original.
A fiendish screech resonated through the room as the knife reached its destination, point straight and penetrating in through one of its eyes and out through the back of its skull.
Yellow gas particles erupted from its gory jade body, filling the room with its venom.
Eru's skin instantly reacted, his pores closing up and blocking any acidic inlet as he closed his eyes, his throat subtly burning from the lack of oxygen.
He envisioned the room, fragments of his imagination merging with his intellect and carefully reconstructing the matter occupying each space in his mind.
Neon shades of turquoise, purple, and green took over the previous darkness in his mind, giving an outline to each obstacle present in the room.
He walked towards the Gelifapo's body, listening in on his breathing to confirm his mortality.
He was surely dead.
Eru crouched down, pulling out the knife wedged through his eye and causing its blood to slowly gush out in a slimy meander.
He dragged his index and middle finger over the blade, wiping it clean and transferring the yellow ooze to them.
The rhythmic sound of dripping blood pervaded the silent room with each step Eru took on approaching the large wooden door that led to the hall of the tower.
Using the clean knife, he swiftly traced the outline of the door, effectively cutting off each barricade and entering the hall, immediately closing the door behind him.
He instantly began trailing the door frame with his blood-coated hands moving defiantly fast.
As soon as the blood touched the wood, it hardened, blocking the entrance of even the tiniest gas molecule from the other room.
Satisfied with his work, he took a step back and faced it, ensuring that there really wasn't any space left before relaxing his muscles, his pores breathing once more, taking in oxygen, and opening his eyes.
Gazing up at the tower adorned with old vines, green efflorescence, chipped cobblestone, and molded cement, Eru cracked his neck once more, taking his stance.
He leaned forward on his chest and left leg, bending his right, relaxing his arms, and burrowing his feet to the ground to maintain a firm footing.
His diamond eyes sparkled with adrenaline and zeal as he stared up at his goal.
Eru let out a deep breath and took off.
For full story check me out on Wattpad @wondererforestdamn
© All Rights Reserved
It was cold, it was dark, and it was quiet.
Out of the three, it was only one Eru fancied, the former two being the obvious inconveniences.
He was already in an irritable state after being awoken to go on his next mission by Drago himself and the chilling night, damp air and unsettling atmosphere did nothing to raise his spirits.
He let out a series of grumbles as he looked down at his bare feet, the bronze skin now sored up with peeling flesh, barely dry blood, and thin cuts under his toes.
This whole situation was ridiculous.
Sure, he was the last of his kind, but he definitely wasn't the only Snatcher in the whole Empire. And it being that he hadn't fully recovered from his last mission, they could have at least given him the night off.
But no, not Drago.
When he wanted something, he got it the way he wanted, using whoever he wanted, and to the detriment of anything that stood in his way.
The sick bastard still coming out looking innocently coy after all is said and done.
Eru slowly and silently stood up from his crouched position, his lips thinning in added irritation as he felt the grave mud seep into his toes and sting the open wounds.
On a normal day –if his days were to be considered normal- the feeling would not have caused him the least bit discomfort but just like his last mission, the land was cursed by Felizo, its owner, hence, successfully stumping the healing and numbing build in Eru's system.
His blue, diamond eyes sparkled in the dark night as they narrowed in on the castle a few miles ahead of him.
Built in the ancient castle, was a 900m (approximately 3000 feet) tall tower that held the sole reason for his current sleep-deprived state.
It would be an easy climb. Easier if his feet weren't so bruised up.
He raked his hand through his disheveled black locks and tilted his head from side to side, the soft crackles of them unknotting echoing in the night as he stretched.
Rolling his arms backward and arching his back, a sigh left his lips along with the knots and cracks of his once tense muscles, eyes never leaving the tower as he stretched again, relaxing every bone in his build.
Returning to the crouched position he was once in, the tall grasses tickled his chest, leaving invincible traces on his bronze skin as his muscles flexed once more.
Since the tower was ancient and the cracked walls with dried-up cement and open spaces were enough evidence of its constantly ageing structure, the climb would be smooth and fast.
A controlled breath left his lips and he flexed his toes, ignoring the stinging sensation that shot through his soles.
Get in, get it, and get out.
He sprinted forth.
Eru's feet hit the ground with silent speed. Not even a thud was heard as he ran through the forest and towards the castle.
Swift, calm and silent; the definition of himself and his movements.
Each step he took, whether running or walking, was quiet.
As though he floats off the ground, his legs never touching it.
His silent feet alongside his immense high speed gave the impression of flight as he scaled the castle walls.
As soon as his feet hit the tiled floor, Eru is met by over a dozen Gelifapos, their slimy green, lizard-like skin and four slit amber eyes staring at him as their snake-like tongues hissed, opening their pores to let the poisonous yellow goo seep out.
Their toad feet took a defensive stance, webbed yet eerily nailed hands spread towards Eru in an attempt to compel him away.
Eru watched in absolute disgust as the gills on their moldy jaw contracted, aiming mosquito-like sounds at him in loud threats.
One could instantly die just by inhaling the ooze that seeped out their pores but Eru had long since programmed his organs and senses to block out anything he wasn't willing to let in.
He held his breath, slowly pulling out a sharp, intricately bent knife nestled in his jeans.
He tentatively scanned the horde, noticing how simultaneously precise their movements were with one another,
How strange.
Gelifapos weren't known for their unanimity. They were scattered in both their thought process (when they managed to have one) and their actions, never moving at the same pace or style with another,
They were incredibly deadly, but their greatest weakness was their roughness and inability to think fast (or at all in some cases) alongside their overbearing individual confidence.
Hence, the scene of them moving in sync was a peculiar one for sure.
Eru couldn't sense Felizo's magic in any of them and from his studies on the great magician, he was like Drago, sending people to do his dirty work.
The difference is that, unlike Drago, he wasn't innocently coy with his works. He was, by all means, crafty, haughty, wicked, and intelligent.
And he silently owned it.
Testing his theory, Eru shifted his leg against the floor, purposely making a sound and watching as all their eyes trailed down exactly at the same time before quickly looking up at him and uniformly stepping forth.
He was right. If Felizo wasn't here and they weren't being controlled by him, that left only one explanation; phantasmagorical illusions.
Eru rarely came across brained creatures that were gifted with phantasmagorical illusions and could successfully pull it off, deceiving the eye that they were many when in fact they were one, talk less of encountering Gelifapo illusionist.
He scanned the room, trying to identify the original, and his eyes locked with a definitely real intense set of amber ones.
Before the creature could even process the thought of making a move, Eru's knife had already left his hold.
He watched in satisfaction as the knife smoothly cut through the air, every image it touched slowly vaporizing in hues of green and red, efficaciously clearing the way and making a path to the original.
A fiendish screech resonated through the room as the knife reached its destination, point straight and penetrating in through one of its eyes and out through the back of its skull.
Yellow gas particles erupted from its gory jade body, filling the room with its venom.
Eru's skin instantly reacted, his pores closing up and blocking any acidic inlet as he closed his eyes, his throat subtly burning from the lack of oxygen.
He envisioned the room, fragments of his imagination merging with his intellect and carefully reconstructing the matter occupying each space in his mind.
Neon shades of turquoise, purple, and green took over the previous darkness in his mind, giving an outline to each obstacle present in the room.
He walked towards the Gelifapo's body, listening in on his breathing to confirm his mortality.
He was surely dead.
Eru crouched down, pulling out the knife wedged through his eye and causing its blood to slowly gush out in a slimy meander.
He dragged his index and middle finger over the blade, wiping it clean and transferring the yellow ooze to them.
The rhythmic sound of dripping blood pervaded the silent room with each step Eru took on approaching the large wooden door that led to the hall of the tower.
Using the clean knife, he swiftly traced the outline of the door, effectively cutting off each barricade and entering the hall, immediately closing the door behind him.
He instantly began trailing the door frame with his blood-coated hands moving defiantly fast.
As soon as the blood touched the wood, it hardened, blocking the entrance of even the tiniest gas molecule from the other room.
Satisfied with his work, he took a step back and faced it, ensuring that there really wasn't any space left before relaxing his muscles, his pores breathing once more, taking in oxygen, and opening his eyes.
Gazing up at the tower adorned with old vines, green efflorescence, chipped cobblestone, and molded cement, Eru cracked his neck once more, taking his stance.
He leaned forward on his chest and left leg, bending his right, relaxing his arms, and burrowing his feet to the ground to maintain a firm footing.
His diamond eyes sparkled with adrenaline and zeal as he stared up at his goal.
Eru let out a deep breath and took off.
For full story check me out on Wattpad @wondererforestdamn
© All Rights Reserved
