Orcryst

Orcryst held the blades tightly. Nothing in the world could have broken his grasp. He could hear the clanging of soldier's scale greaves inside the stone watchtower.

He ran to the back door of the watch-tower without a sound being made. He stood just outside the door as he listened to the next room. From what he could tell there were three people inside, one of them particularly close to the door, an easy target.

He pulled his hood over his head and placed his black face mask over his face. This was it, there was no turning back. with that thought, he whirled around and kicked the door with his powerful leg. The door flew off its hinges and soared across the room. The soldiers could not see because of dust. There were frustrated coughs and a lot of commotion. He, however could make out the outlines of the three soldiers standing in the room. He grabbed the closest soldier to him and slit his throat with ease. The human gasped, the fell limp, with a monotonous thud, to the floor. The commotion in the room ceased.

Orcryst turned to his left and with a slight twitch of his wrist, the dagger in his left hand flew and with a hiss, entered the soldiers abdomine. He hit his target, he wanted the soldier to scream to draw the others towards him. A blood curtling scream left the soldier's lips as he rocked back and forth, body twisting in awkward shapes. It didnt effect Orcryst, he was used to screaming. he did it a lot when he was young and alone inside his cave.

The dust settled and he walked over to the dying soldier. He pulled the dagger out of his stomach. He kicked the soldiers head hard, neck snapping. Blood dripped from the dagger's blade onto the dead soldiers body.

He turned and faced the other soldier. The rapid footsteps above him comming closer and closer. The remaining soldiers face was pale with fright as he eyed his companions lifeless bodies. He was shaking nervously as he drew his shortsword. He wanted to avenge his partner's deaths but before he could even think about it, Orcryst was on top of him, his dagger running straight through his ribcage. Orcryst laughed evily into the dying guard's ear. Orcryst turned the dagger, letting the soldier cry out in pain and then with one violent jerk he pulled the dagger out and let blood erupt from the soldiers grevious wound. the soldier fell to the ground, lying in his own blood.

The remaining soldiers in the whole watch-tower were all standing in the doorway. He threw off his mask, revealing his elongated K9s, and he threw off his cloak. Again, he twirled his daggers slinging the blood onto the soldiers. They all had their swords drawn and were ready to fight. The circled Orcryst and, in unison, ran towards him. Ducking, Orcryst swung his arms wildly, cutting straight through some of the soldiers legs. With lightning fast moves he stod and started slicing through each soldier. Screams echoed throughout the tower as though it were an insane asylum. Blood splattered the walls. Bodies were littering the floor. They deserved everything they got. They took everything he knew away from him so many years ago and now, they will pay. Battle rage swam through his blood as he cut down each soldier. His clothes were torn as he dodged the remaining troops desperate swings. Their crazed attacks missed him by centimeters, tearing clothing from him. They were getting tired, however, Orcryst still had enough energy to fight fifteen more. He stopped. Everything was still two soldiers were left.

Orcryst whispered a word or two and his daggers started to glow a white-blue color. the same color of his eyes. He jammed the daggers between two cracks in the ground. He he ran to his cloak and mask with insane speed and bolted out the door and ran through the outside gates of the tower. He threw on his cloak and thrusted his mask between his belt and pants. The soldiers stood at the door dazed and confused. Orcryst slowed his pace from a run to a slow trot.

Behind him an explosion shook the ground. The tower had exploded. Debris shot everywhere, oddly, none hitting Orcryst. The raised both of his hands just above his shoulders. Something whizzed and then stopped dead in his hands. His daggers had returned, unaffected by the the huge explosion that rocked the small town. He shoved the daggers back into their sheaths and put his mask back over his face.

He would head to his next town, this one closer to the boreders of Taren. There was a watch-tower in the next town that was very similar to that in this one, only bigger. He left his bow and quiver behind. He had stolen it off of a dead body anyway and it would only bring bad luck. He would get another in the next town.

After the next town, he would head straight for the castle, and he would then end the life of the king that tormented him so, when he was younger.

He didnt think what he just did was right, but he had to do something, he had to make a stand, he had to revenge the death of his parents and he had to stand up for his own race. For he was a demon, and he was pissed off . . .