Black Stains - Bilgewater - Chapter 2 Ariss stared at his hand. It was pale, deathly pale. He clenched it, unclenching it moments after. He repeated this process, testing out his hand. He frowned, a deep crease appearing between his brow. He remembered pain. Intense pain that would not stop, before black. Cold blackness. Before he stuck his sword in the Ice Drake's muzzle. The beast lay before him, face a mask of surprise. Ariss looked down, seeing the blood, the thick blood, coating his now-shredded shirt. He stood, feeling slightly light-headed before the feeling ebbed away. Now he thought of it, all feeling had gone.
He returned to the bush he had taken cover in, right before he had charged out on the beast, and retrieved his trench coat, putting it on, and buttoning it up. The hole in his chest was completely covered. The only thing that was off about him was the dark red bloodstain around his throat. Ariss ignored it. He left his sword with the Drake. Ariss didn't want to take it with him. So
Black Stains - Ariss - Chapter 1 My name is Ariss. Lanky, black hair, blunt features, one eye. With most of my height in my legs, I stand at 6'8, pretty tall for a human. Or more of, ex-human. I'm not like Thresh- that guy is just creepy. I am dead, though, which tends to put people off. Generally, they're fine until I mention that one small fact, or open my coat. My coat. My wonderful Trench Coat that conceals all. My identity, my wounds, and my undeath. Some would call me a zombie. While I won't deny that, there are slightly better words to call me. For example, you could call me and my race Walkers, The Dead, Cauldron-Born, Abominations, Rotters, Biters, Lurkers, Corpses, Skin Puppets, Flesh Dolls, Soulless Husks, Horrors, Ghouls, Ghasts, Brain Biters (Why they think we all eat brains I'll never know), Infected, Hollows, Rot-Walkers, Wraith, Revenants, Goons, Flesh-Eaters, Night-Walkers, Hungerers, Shuffling Horrors and Restless Dead. I would prefer it if you simply called us the Undead. And our situation? Un
Black Stains - IntroductionShe gave me a wry grin, balancing one of the purple spheres on one long finger. I stood, kneeling, before her. Amusement sparked in her eyes. I was strange in that way, I could see inside people. Her eyes? You can't make anything out, save the glowing purple. Her headpiece, magnificent as it was, held a shimmering amethyst in its center. I could sense the power held within her. Within such a frail frame. I could almost reach out, and snap her delicate body in two.
The Dark Sovereign regarded me curiously. Two of her dark spheres circled her, occasionally swaying toward me. Her legs were crossed, skirt tails trailing along the floor. The ground gently shifted, swaying occasionally as Syndra became distracted. My head was down, right hand splayed before me, left curled up to my chest. My heart pounded beneath the protruding ribs. The heavy trench coat cushioned most of them, but there was no mistaking the blood splattered around my neck. Syndra's white hair almost floated beside her. Fin
BansheeA humanoid- supposedly a woman -wanders England. She has walked for centuries. No one knows exactly when, or where she came around, or even why. Most people don't even know her. That's how much our government want to keep us in the dark, to leave us as her unsuspecting victims. I take it upon myself to tell you about her, what she has done, what she is doing, and what she will do. No one has ever seen her. No one alive, at least.
The few that have sighted this strange creature have never survived. Glances of this mysterious Banshee have been made all over the country. Some of her victims have, however, been able to record their experiences and findings. Most differ on her appearance, and what this thing looks like, but a few key things are always noticed, along with the same method, what the last thing these people see are.
The few things always mentioned are as follows:
Long hair- Normally trailing below her waist. The colour seems to change throughout different 'lifetimes', and what
The More... Unlikely Heroes - Chapter 4
The Slenderman sat in his chair. In his house. With the others, of course. JUST. LEAVE. IT. ALONE.
Jack withdrew his hand, giving the skull a sad look. He slumped down, and resorted to twiddling his thumbs together.
Boredom was a plenty throughout the group. Even Jeff's smile had almost disappeared. Almost.
"So what do you plan on doing next, Jeff?" Jack's tone showed how he felt. It reflected on how they all felt. Funnily, they all felt the same.
Jeff looked up, his thoughts swarmed in his head, like a swarm of bees buzzing persistently at your window. "I think our team needs a woman's touch." He remarked, glancing up, a sly smile on his face.
A bark brought their attention to an indignant dog. Jeff let out a long, tired sigh. "No offense, dear doggy, but you don't exactly count." Smile.Dog growled menacingly. "I mean, you're wonderful and all, but you're not what I'd call human." Jeff added hastily. He didn't fancy being at the business end of those teeth.
The blank, white face turne
The More... Unlikely Heroes - Chapter 3
Jeff sat in the corner of the room, beside the closed window. The girl was sleeping soundly. So sweet, so gentle. She, the lamb, he the wolf. He turned his head away, the sight disturbing distant memories. He forced them back down, deep inside himself. He must not let anything distract him. Not tonight. Of all nights, not tonight.
After all, there would always be one idiot who ignored his fellow assassin's screams, the warnings from the distinctly disturbing Rake and the rabid dog with the sinister smile. One person who would run through it all, hoping to play hero. Jeff watched the door now. Heroes always died. It didn't matter where they were- except from Hollywood movies. But they were an exception, they always stretched the truth. Real heroes? Nah, they're dead within a few seconds. Being heroically stupid. That was their trademark.
A loud thump emanated from outside, in the hallway. Jeff looked up, face a smiling mask. The kid stirred as the door creaked open. Jeff drew his knife