Post by Blackboy0 on Oct 31, 2008 8:30:25 GMT -5
Hidden World
Prologue[/center]
Their screams pierced my ears. Howling, I threw himself at the mob of young teenagers. They were probably coming back from a night-time movie or party, but that was the way of people like us. Get them while they are still young. They were the easiest to teach then.
My claws ripped their skin, but never went deeper than the first inch of flesh. We wanted the humans alive and well, not sliced into pieces. I snarled as one teenager brandished a knife and jumped out of the main throng of fighting. He was calling to a young girl, no older than twelve. A savage grin played across Bold’s face.
I dropped to the ground and ran towards them on all fours. Ten feet away, I stood up and leaped, landing directly on the young girls shoulder. My weight brought her down, and, biting her shoulder, covered myself in blood. I looked down at her in pity.
The dagger wielding teenager screamed something at me in Spanish. I looked straight at him. He was looking at the girl with tears in his eyes, and a look of vengeance on his face. He looked once at the girls body, then back at me, and dove, knife leading. I quickly sidestepped just in time and missed the dagger by a hairsbreadth.
He did a three-hundred and sixty degree turn and flung the knife toward my face. I ducked, and chomped my teeth on his thigh. The sweet taste of well-fought-for blood. He plummeted to the ground, clutching his thigh and wailing as only a man who’s been bitten could.
I chuckled, the sound no more than a wheeze in my feline throat. I turned around, and charged back into the remaining group of teenagers. The fight was over in seconds. My fur caked with blood, most of it the humans. I staggered to my second in command, who was crouching by a dead human, feasting on its insides.
“Stop that.” I commanded. She took one last bite, then stood up and looked at me. Nearly 6 feet tall with a superbly muscular body, totally covered in thick brown fur, Min was an imposing figure.
“Yes, Bold” she casually said, walking from her winnings. I walked through the street, looking for injured or dead comrades. Min appeared beside me. I was always surprised how quietly she moved.
“1 of us dead, 2 more injured and 23 of those humans bitten, sir.” Good, only one of my warriors killed.
“Get the humans in the trucks, along with the dead and injured. Set 20 guards all along this street and the streets connecting to it. Any emergency vehicles show up, turn them around! Got it?”
“Yes sir!” Min bounded away, relaying the leaders orders to the correct people. Bold sighed. 23 more to add to his ranks of the Marauder Clan. Currently, he was one of the biggest influences in the werewolf clans in all of the States of America. There was only one clan big enough to rival his: Avignon and his blood-sucking vampires.
Those greedy blood-sucking bastards. Ever since the dawn of the two races, they have been at war with each other. They were sworn enemies.
“Sir, we are ready to depart.” Bold shook out of his thoughts, and turned to face one of his youngest warriors: Goldtooth. His biting teeth were ripped out when he was a boy, so the medics of the Marauder Clan replaced them with gold teeth.
“Thank you, Goldtooth.” Bold always remembered all of his warrior’s names. He had well over a thousand warriors all over the city, but each one’s name was locked into his brain. Bold stepped out of the street and onto another, where a line of pick-up trucks and hummers were waiting, all of their engines fired up.
Making sure to stay in the shadows and hide his fur, Bold made his way to the black & red 2008 Ford F-150. He hopped into the passenger seat and his driver, Elfbane, instantly took off, not caring whether or not any of the soldiers followed them.
They swerved in and out of traffic, always getting so close to a car beside and in front of them you could stick your hand out an inch and touch it, then pulling away before the driver in them can react.
Elfbane, the famous werewolf that slew fifty of the last surviving elves on the planet, for the promise of immortality. He was one of the slimiest and most loyal warriors of Bold’s werewolf army. His origins were Elvish, yet for the promise of immortal life, he slew the last fifty remaining of his kin. Bold was glad he had gotten Elfbane first.
Finally they arrived at their home base: The broken-down and rusted Hotel Grande. For six years it had been the home of the U.S.’s largest clan of Werewolves: the Marauder Clan. Nine times it had been attacked, and nine times it had managed to fend off all intruders.
Bold grinned his savage wolf grin, and jumped out of the truck. Good to be home.
I'll be Posting this on three different websites:
Though I didn't sleep that long... Was good though. Finally I have some ideas on paper, instead of my head, all jumbled up...
