The Assassin of Renquickwell

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Ok this is fairly long, especially considering it's just the first chapter of a very large novel.

Please post your thoughts and comments, good or bad I don't mind, but please speak the truth.

Thanks...


THE ASSASSIN OF RENQUICKWELL

Chapter One

The Lord

Above ground the rain ravaged the dense forest canopy. At infrequent points the collective weight of the raindrops would prove too much for the tree branches, it would break away from its landing spot and fall to the forest floor creating giant puddles that sometimes flowed into the various streams that littered the forest floor. However above the ruined temple there was no canopy to catch the falling rain. The dropping water would cover the temple ruins and seep into the ancient granite architecture, and drip into the extensive crypt layout below.
Lord Vaksha was fully aware of the situation and dispatched a few workers to start repairing the crypt ceiling.
“Yes master Vaksha, sir,” replied a screechy eager-to-please goblin servant, his pointy ears twitching with every syllable, and knobbly hand rubbing together. The servant seemed to be held with some regard among his fellow workers, because as soon as he started bellowing orders they all immediately scurried off to fetch tools for the repair work.
Lord Vaksha seemed content that they were more than capable of sorting the problem, he looked at the small crack in the ceiling and with lightning reflexes he caught, between his thumb and forefinger a falling drop, it felt warm as he rubbed it into his fingertips. The drips kept falling and Lord Vaksha finally grew tired of hearing them patter on the floor, he turned around and with a final nod to the bossy goblin he retired to his quarters.
The tall robed man paced about his room and more than once stopped to gaze around, however for a Lord the surroundings were not all that impressive. A room no bigger than ten paces length and breadth, a single ornate chair in the centre of the room facing the north wall and entrance door, a stool and pedestal off to the right hand side and a corner hung torch bracket in each of the four corners providing the only light into the windowless room. Lord Vaksha was not proud of his quarters, although they did contain the one item he held in highest esteem, a mirror, he himself was not vain but he loved to look into this mirror at himself. He knew this mirror was special, magically imbued, it had been handed down in his family generation to generation and now he, the last of the Tel’amdroth legacy had it in his possession.
It was no godly object capable of bringing great kingdoms to their knees, it was just a mirror, not an ordinary mirror, but in the same context just a mirror, a reflector of images. Lord Vaksha paced over to the mirror, hanging just above the pedestal that held his ancestor’s tome of Tel’amdroth history, and placed his hands on the stone lectern. He gazed into the mirror, essentially just an oval shape but with innumerable shapes and carvings all around the outside frame, all carved into solid onyx, a rare ebon coloured stone. The mirror was only about three feet tall and two wide but it looked magnificent, the sort of object wars would be fought over, just for the winning side to look at it.
He peered into the great item and it was almost as if it had been roused from a deep sleep, because the reflective glass twisted and swirled in many different colours, then finally settled. Lord Vaksha was satisfied, for staring back at him was a young handsome face, all his facial features fully defined, red piercing eyes and shoulder length jet-black hair. He stared into the mirror longer and more focused at himself, trying to find some flaw in his reflection, trying to prove the magic wasn’t as strong as it was known to be, trying to break it with just a stare. It was in vain though and every time he tried it he knew the mirror was right, he really did look like this, but then a gain his skin, yes his skin it was, no it was still pale, pale as moonlight yes moonlight, his domain.
He could not break the mirror, it was always right, he looked like the man staring back at him and he was proud of it, he was easily the most handsome the Tel’amdroth lineage had seen. He knew this because no female could resist him, some say it was a power he was born with but it could not have been hereditary because everyone of the Tel’amdroth males had died trying to find a way of becoming like the rest of their race. They were looking for a way of becoming irresistible to females, a trait that without, they were shunned for not possessing. The more illogical males believed it to be a curse set upon the lineage in ancient times, but Lord Vaksha knew, the cleverest male born into the Tel’amdroth line knew, it was a defective gene.
However he was the one, the one without the defective gene, he was not defective, he was the alpha male, that is why he killed the rest, his father, grandfather, great grandfather, the list went back eight generations of Tel’amdroth males and their mistresses, all in one day whilst they slept, deep in the crypts. They all lived in the Tel’amdroth temple crypt after they drove the previous owners out, the Tao Zan order, the Tel’amdroths felt that they needed a home no-one would look for, it was a bluff, a race repulsed by religion living under a temple, the perfect deception.
The family was powerful together but ultimately defective, that is why the perfect male had to erase the defective males to make the Tel’amdroth name perfect for the first time in its history.
He was the last one, he was Lord Vaksha Tel’amdroth the alpha male, and he would pass this perfection onto his son, if he ever needed to embrace a son that is.
Gone were the days of the family hunt, he was the only resident along with the numerous goblin slaves still loyal to the family name, and his extensive collections of beasts from all over the realms, filling the now unused quarters of his extensive family.
He had walked this earth for near seven hundred years and had never needed anyone, not even his defective family, but maybe just maybe he might need a son to carry on the perfect legacy, or a mistress to share it with, yes that will be his next task he thought to himself, a mistress.
Still staring into the mirror his gaze shifted not to another perfect feature on his face, but over his shoulder, to his resting place, his coffin, and he knew it was time, sunrise was coming and he needed to regain his strength for the next time he would feed. He stepped away from the mirror and the reflection filled with the rest of the room once more, no longer showing the great lord. He turned on the spot, his robe flowing around after him, and looked at the coffin resting there behind his chair, and thought to himself.

How come with all the power I possess I have become nothing, what am I really lord of? What have I got to give my race, other than the new Tel’amdroth family line? Like all the rest of my kind I do crave power but merely power of the night is not enough, it has, well it has been done before, I need something new, I need something revolutionary, yes a revolution for my race, I shall rest on that thought.

With that last sentence his form, standing there so strong and formidable, just dissipated from a solid living, well unloving being into a greyish gaseous cloud. The could swirled around the room, it appeared to be quite heavy as it would only reach a few feet of the ground but that was far from the truth.
The coffin lay there, no visible lid just a coffin shaped hollow box, fully closed and impenetrable. Like the mirror it was a beautiful item, carved from the finest onyx, which reflected the light from the torch brackets filling the room with more light. It held the Tel’amdroth family crest at the head of the supposed lid, two crossed rapiers behind an open eye with a deep red gem in the shape of a diamond set into the centre of the eye to form the pupil. The coffin was impenetrable, due to the hundreds of years Lord Vaksha had spent warding it against unwanted intrusion. The gaseous cloud wound its way around the deep red marble lintel that held the coffin a few feet from the floor and spoke, a long rasp of a voice sounded from the centre of the cloud, the words were a command to the impenetrable onyx box. The box responded and the Tel’amdroth ancestral symbol blinked, but when the eyelids reopened the diamond shaped jewel had disappeared. The coffin was impenetrable to all beings living, dead or otherwise except Lord Vaksha himself, with this the gaseous cloud rose from the ground swirling upwards and above the coffin then in the same motion poured into the coffin through the small diamond shape pupil opening. When all of the cloud had entered the coffin the eye blinked once more, replacing the ruby coloured pupil, sealing the box from the rest of the world.
Lord Vaksha could not go to sleep immediately, he had to wait for the first light of dawn, which even though the coffin interior was completely dark and he was at least thirty feet under the forest floor, he could sense it though from an innate ability his race was blessed with.
That’s all it was, a few moments and he was gone his mind finally at rest after a long day of thought. His body lay still upon the soft silken padding of the coffin, he did not need the soil of his homeland like others in his race as he was born in this very crypt, he was motionless save for the odd twitch or so reflecting his current dream, a past pleasure he had experienced, or possibly a premonition.

It was the night once more and he was in the great city of Renquickwell, he was following a young woman, possible aged only twenty years or so. She was extremely beautiful, and must have been out visiting relatives, because all of the merchants in the area closed hours ago. The great lord watched her intently from the shadows of a herbal shop entrance, as she passed by he was so close he could smell her, she came from a noble family, her blouse and dress were neatly pressed and she wore scented oils, only granted by a wealthy family. She was a virgin, he knew this he could sense it before he even saw her, it was a sense similar to how a cornered dog senses fear in a weak predator, it was almost as if she gave off some innocent hormone only detectable by his race, but too subtle for humans to recognise.
The young woman noticed a shortcut a few houses down the street that she usually took during the day to get home, she knew it was a risk to take it this late at night but if it would get her home quickly and off the streets then the risk would be worth it. The risk increased as soon as she turned into the dimly lit lane, behind the Night Feast Tavern, a place desired and frequented only by scoundrels, rogues and vagabonds alike.
However, strangely the lane was empty save for a few sacks of rubbish left by the tavern’s rear entrance, and a starved looking feline creature, prowling after some equally malnourished rats trying to get some form of sustenance from one of the rubbish sacks. There was no lighting in the lane, due to the fact that the oil powered streetlamps had not been tended to for a long time, although the full moon at that time of the night provided more than enough lighting for the young woman to reach the end. Lord Vaksha still following the young woman turned into the lane and vaulted up onto a house roof on the left-hand side, directly across the lane from the Night Feast tavern, he caught a glimpse of the tavern’s name banner above the rear door and thought it a fitting title for the following events that would take place in the lane to the rear of that particularly seedy drinking den.
He ran across the rooftops of the houses, with no sound at all coming from his partially levitated steps and dropped off the roof of the fifth house right in front of the young woman.
The noble woman let out a scream, which was shortly muffled by Lord Vaksha’s pale hand grasping her mouth, he pulled her close to him, barely a couple of feet, and twisted his hand exposing the right side of her neck. She struggled valiantly but ultimately in vain, then he straightened her head and let go of her placing his hand by his side, her petrified eyes were no longer glazed with fear, she looked intently at him and relaxed. Her complexion was no longer a pale pink, but now a vibrant pink filled with colour and softness that reflected the moonlight. He stared at her, looking deeply into her eyes, but it was always hopeless, he could not see his own reflection that of the pale handsome young man. Not being able to see his reflection greatly unsettled him and that just proved what he was, and so the hunger in him grew stronger, so he spoke her. “My dear, we can do this one of two ways,” all the time she did not respond her eyes fixated with him, his perfect masculine features. “I shall feast on you,” he continued “however you do have a choice, you may join me as one of my kind,” she was still captivated by his mere presence, “or you can be left here, in this alley as a lifeless, bloodless corpse, only able to feed the vermin that prowl this lane.”
The young woman, still staring into the black orbs with central blood red pupils that were Lord Vaksha’s eyes, tilted her head the same as he had done to her, and with her right hand brushed aside her long golden blonde hair and slowly, seductively stroked her smooth feminine neck.
Still her bright blue innocent eyes stared into his, as she removed her pendant and chain necklace from around her neck and put it into her handbag along with the makeup and other luxury goods that a noble upbringing granted her. The young woman then spoke, four words and she would be granted a lifetime of immortality and unsurpassed power “take me with you”.
Again she tilted her head and stroked her neck in the same seductive fashion, highlighting her pink complexion and fullness of young untainted blood, Lord Vaksha could sense the main artery, up the side of her neck, pumping thousands of blood vessels a second round her curvaceous, feminine body. She put her right arm around his back and pulled him the few feet closer to her, he couldn’t resist the hunger any longer, his face contorted into that of his true kindred origins, she grabbed a handful of his jet-black hair and pulled his head towards her neck, his elongated fangs easily pierced her soft skin and he absorbed her lifeblood as if he wished it was his own. She let out whimper of pure ecstasy as her pupils dilated, she was feeling the most incredible emotions of pleasure. It must have been at least five minutes and all the time the feeling was very similar for Lord Vaksha, however after a while he soon realised that she was approaching the point of no return, whereby she would become, too drained, too dead for him to embrace. So it began, as he drained more of her blood he would infuse her with his own to make her one of his own, his mistress.

 

Could you please space it out a little more? Its's far too difficult to read otherwise.

 

Yes i've realised that, after i pasted it on i thought the same.

I it far easier to read if you copy it and paste it into msoft word or a similar program. It's the program i wrote it in and just pasted it accross, it looked ok in that. I usually do that for everyone elses because i have a dial up connection and it costs a lot to stay on-line and read large stories.

Thanks for the advice though, the next chapter *WILL* be spaced.

Thanks again

Khazar

 

Let me ge this straight, this story will revolve around a what? Vampire Lord with a fetish for women?

Hmm, not bad. I would gladly wait for the next chapter.

But perhaps I could influence a little, how about an assasin not on a lone mission?
Having seen lone assaains could spoil things. the interactions would suffer. S, a party would help...

Hope you don't mind Khazor.

 

Your writing is excellent, however, I found some of the story a little cliched: Vampires in coffins for example. Still, it is very good work

 

The cliches are only in there so that people can relate to the race and background of the character.

Some great responses, thanks and I would happily welcome many more.

[ February 05, 2004, 19:07: Message edited by: Khazar ]