Once upon a Hollow Night...[Lady Nightshade]

For whom this concerns, should be all whom read this. Deceivers, Cowards, Men, Women, thy wrath I feel very sweet, though quite spiced. As you stare at this wall, once mine, know that Death and Fear will stalk the hills, the trees, the very streets at night. Know that doors will not hide thee, know that I will FIND thee, and know that mine sword thirsts for misery, woe, and decay as I write this. Know that this man’s ‘Blood’ that my grave was too shallow, and woe the next time you see my grim apparition…

Town folk, liberated years from their treacherous Herzog Waldgraf von Grendlitcht II. They stood horrified as their former governor, Sir Albrechy of Gelnrahide of the Third Saintly Order lay with his neck slit open, exposing the picked flesh by rats as long as the drained, pink vessels all the way from his windpipe over his spine making the fat neck look like a split open mellon. A grim warning written in this man’s own blood as the turned away from the ghastly look of fear and pain lingering over his features. He left no legacy, and if he had one could only feel merciful if the message was really from whom they thought it was.

Months passed since this grim, forboding message had been delivered and unlike most the author was both the messenger and his own threat.

Dry leaves, long fallen from the trees in mid Autumn, it was time for farmers to reap the crop they had sewn. Many had hired help to construct walls, primitive palisade to protect their crops and themselves from certain ill-fate. Some wealthy land owners didn’t much care for their safety, and when they heard some farmers had perished – they’d simply move in to try obtaining even more land. Mostly these deaths, these poor innocent folk were actually killed by hired thugs and the wealthy used the legendary monster, whom was known as the ‘Grendlitcht Dread Wight’, though some who’d witnessed him called him ‘the Herzog of Dread’, though such people were largely unheard as they were outcasts or loons.

The sun began to sink, it never had the stomach to for see the crimes that typically did happen when it was gone. For it was the moon, the outcast that bared witness on death and crime for countless ages that began to surface. A wind began to stir in the forest, in the wetlands and the swamps, the reflection of a window – from a hidden shack did a lone candle light as a figure dressed in strange, ebon armor step forth from this home – or lair.

Heavy black-iron boots crushed fragile dry leaves underfoot as the Swamp Gases, visible for just a momen, began to spur and twist into a strange shape. Suddenly a horse made of ever shifting mist gathered as he climbed out of the murky depths. Moonlight illuminated it’s shape, the set of sharp fangs within it’s maw as a hot breath pushed forth from it’s maw. What witchery had conjured this beat was uncertain, however for when it waited, it’s master was almost certain the man climbing up onto the saddle before the apparition, or perhaps something with a little more substance than a mere object of adult fears and nightmares.

Rue ran that night into the woods. Her father had found her again. Bringing her forced bethrothed with him. Shouts came from the woods as she ran, scraping branches across her cheek and drawing small thin lines of blood. Silvery-blue eyes sparkled fromt he feint light that came through the trees as she hissed in pain.

"No, I won't go back."

Her father was a Duke and a powerfull one at that. When her mother died only a year before he then sought to marry her off and expand his holdings and safty. Not wanting a part of that, she had refused suitors until now. So she fled, and had managed for several weeks on her own. Having taken only coin, a dagger and some servents clothing. Now, as she ran her brown hair was matted with leaves and small twigs. Her clothing was that in a mans garb for now. having left her things at the inn in a hurry she had nothing left now. She wore that of a mix of brown and cream clothing. Baggy to hide her figure and stay alone.


"Arrrrrghpmh!"

A root caught her right foot and she went down hard. The fall twisting her ankle as it cracked and poped. Rue bit her tongue to keep the screams down and found she couldn't move. Bleeding, hurt and tired she tried her best to hide and drag herself.

Though this creature was unknown to her, the sound of ghostly hoofs pounding against an off-beaten direction. A direction where it should not have come from, for no man, foolish or brave, would risk a strong, healthy steed through the peril’s of the murky depths of a swamp! Snorting, the strange fog-beast impatiently trotted toward a hill, the very one that the Duke’s daughter had rolled next to, down in a shallow trench of leafs and twigs.

The shostly outline of the horse stopped, fanged jaw agape as it neighed a most violent squeal as it smelled the scent of blood and it tasted fear and desperation on it’s tongue. The rider quickler looked a bit surprised, his helmet beating something of a Skullish grin over the metal surface before he light of torches began to move in closer, the sound of hunting dogs barking as they hunted for the woman. When the well bred curs came into sight of the armored man, they quickly hesitated and drew their heavy ears back and growled low though they would not approach the man and beast.

Soon two hunters came into view, riding two smaller and maneuverable horses before the horses bucked back. The animals refused to move any further, and men of common clouth stared awe-stricken by the aberration that stood before them. The two, armed with common shortswords drew swords – they were disciplined little pawns…

“S-sir! This area is restricted. Leave or we’ll…” They’d intend to threaten, however the horse that the dreaded man stood atop started to make it’s way towards the two without so much as a signal or pull of the reins. Finally the lower folk, forced into service with Crossbows started to make their way “Is there problems over there?!” A man wearing common clothing would ask, offering for he had no idea what these pampered soldiers had encountered.
One man drawing back, drawing a grin of desperation “Yes! Come and gain glory for…” But before he could finish, the fog-steed and it’s rider had delivered a broad sword to the man’s gut. The man on the side sticken with fear, and heated anger at his no doubt fell thread moved up with haste, hoping he could flank and strike the strange horse in the flank to reduce the man’s mobility “This is for Gerald!” He’d cry before the Horse pushed it’s hind legs up, the claws of the hoofs cutting into flesh and knocking back the soldier and it’s horse over dead and into the ditch.

Unlike the soldiers however, the hounds had taken flight and the peasant who’d bared witness to this recalled the sight of that blade – for it still had the family etchings of their ex-Herzog’s name still etched into the blade which was now outlined with the red outline of blood. Though he’d just slain two men, no blood stained the armor which was as black as night, two red lenses on the front gleamed red.

“Bring word to your new, Beloved Duke, that next time he should come to face me, his doom, instead of these worthless curs!” He’d cry, sending the man in flight dropping his crossbow as he did. Though suddenly the rustle, he swore he heard it he had the creature take gaseous form as it rushed over the trench, now nearby as he peered into the depths of the leaves, seeing if he could find the wounded creature “Come little one. I won’t eat you – so long as you don’t lie…”

Rue heard what she thought was a scuffle. There was a moment she thought it was a bandit and that scared her even more then being chased by her father. when it was over, Rue thought she was safe, until the strange dark voice came close to where she was hiding.

No, just stay quiet..

Trying to reassure herself as she spat out the blood in her mouth and winced as the pain shot up her leg from just barley moving it.

Insolence… the insult added on to insult as he’d stare longingly at the blade. Perhaps it was a soldier or perhaps it was a poor soul that he’d kill and drain of the sweet life’s blood that continued to waste and spill on the leafy ground. “So you choose to lie?” He’d ask, little amusement lingering in his voice, then again was there ever a moment when the vengeful creature in the guise of a man’s voice made that clear? Drawing his sword, he’d hold the handle loosely.

Carefully now… he gently mused to himself before he’d bring down his arm, swinging quick and heavily like the smith’s hammer as the sharp blade would sail down, closing space in moments and striking into the ground with a low ‘Thump!’ missing the woman. The horse gave some unnatural screeching neigh as he held the creature back with one arm. Though unarmed, he’d not be for long as his gloved hand, wrapped in unearthly black iron would stretch forth to the blade, and the blade would in tern twitch and push toward it’s master before pulling free from the dark earth’s grasp.

Into his grasp it again stayed, It was a bit puzzling if there was a person here would they not be more eager to flee? What his horse mistaken, no for he too could smell the blood but it was always so difficult to figure what this person, this miserable, dying wretch that was far below his feet. Cursing to himself silently he dismounted as the fog-steed shifted and wrapped itself around his back and formed a fine dark brown cape as he’d search through the leaves before meeting an object before offering a swift kick “Whatever you are, making a noble soul walk on this wretched soil deserves nothing less than a slow death!” His voice spat, filled with spite and malice as his voice hissed with an unnatural hiss.

This time she let out a hiss groan. There was so much pain for her to handel that she didn't know how to explain it. Blood ran down her chin as she somehow bit into her lower lip after he kicked her. With the sound of the horse and the attack on her, it was only a wish that it all would stop.

"S-sop!"

Her voice cracked with her swollen lip and tongue.

He hadn’t thought it were a woman, she must have been either daft or stupid. He didn’t feel any less aggravated by the situation though by her clothes she did not appear to belong to anyone he should hate Reaching down he’d turn his hand around and pressed the clawed digits of his finger into the cloth of her blouse, digging through and avoiding piercing or scratching her breast “Should you spoke sooner, instead of hiding it wouldn’t have happened.” He’d scold, lifting her off the ground as he spotted her ankle popped out of place.

She couldn’t make it back if she tried “Foolish woman!” He roared with some voice that only partially belonged to himself. Tossing her up, he’d sling her over his shoulder which drove up into her stomach lightly. He’d not consider walking back to his cozy little ‘home’ or for the time being it was that. He’d proceed to carry her deeper into the marsh, though with her no doubt beaten body she’d likely not be able to figure which was which.

Her lengthy time of consciousness continued on until she was carried into a dark hovel, a home that not even the lowliest of peasants would find themselves living in the city. Here she was laid on a single bed, and though this place was quite strange and dark, though fear and regret filler her chest, consciousness was soon lost as the sharp and sudden pain of having the dislocated joints in the ankle were set back in place.

Here she laid, though as the sun finally began to reveal itself after again it looked away from all that had happened in it’s neglect – the doorway sealed itself. The windows were much too high, and the man, the stranger that had kicked and nursed her had disappeared but not before feeding off one of her open wounds before tending to it as well.

Within the home, within this building he would not be found but in actuality he was bound to this place when the sunlight came to banish him away.

The last thing she had remembered was sharp pain and then darkness. Things were just blessed darkness as she slept. It wasn't until later in the day that she had woken in the tiny stuffed room. Her head spun as she felt dizzy. Vaguly, she remembered what happened and opened her eyes wide.

Who, was he? Where am I?

Shivvering as she stood, only to fall back as her ankle was still sore. She had remembered how crude her supposed hero was witht he way he talked to her.

"Dosen't look like I'm going anywhere either.."

She was o vulnerable, injured and laying in a man’s bed – probably not the position she had in mind when she had run away. Well, perhaps it was better than the fate her family had in store for her – to be used as a lottery ticket to more power and fame. Though all seemed fairly decent though there was still something chilly about this place. None of the items sparsely decorating the one and only room of the tiny building seemed like they were in place. There were some nice items, a pair of ornate swords crossing like some sort of trophy.

Though the eerie feel of a presence would let itself be known “Who are you.” The voice would hiss forth, seething with intensity before relaxing “Are you daft? Why run towards THIS swamp?” the voice would ask, with less severity and more curiousity. There was little he could do, unless she were to interact with certain objects that were scattered about.

This was a good time, an opportunity to learn more about this scoundrel or savior, depending on how she looked at it.

Rue jumped as her silvery-bule eyes scanned the small room. There was no one there and yet she could feel a presence. Instinctivly, Rue scooted herself to the middle of the bed and wrapped the thin bedsheet around her like a small child.

"Who are you?"

She whispered, and when no answer came she knew it wanted an answer. It as she was slightly spooked, and Rue was. Whatever trickery or magic this was, she didn't want to anger it.

"I.. I'm Rue."

It was her short name. Her full name she hated, and always had. So thus she had shortened her name to simply Rue.

A soft laugh of amusement came from the disembodied voice, clearly able to watch her every move and hear her every sound. From the male voice he’d speak forth “Rue? Well I’m not certain such a little girl is ready to be introduced to the incomprehensive.” He’d taunt the woman for her sheepishness as she wrapped herself up in his sheets, in his bed, however with her ankle what was he to do? It was his infinite misfortune that he still had compassion even if it was a tiny bit.

“You are frightened of me?” He’d ask, deciding that after the many years he’d have some fun with his first visitor as the sheets began to shift around her against her will “Then why do you wrap yourself in a part of me?” He’d laugh, obviously amused by his own malicious, deviant mischief while in his form.

“You may call my Ulf, for now. It’s not my name but It might be easier for a sheep to bleat forth, rather than calling me ‘it’ like some sort of Transgender courtesan…” He’d finally settle down, before the words drew quiet – as if they were never there.

When the sheets tightened around her, Rue nearly screamed. If it wasn't for the fact that he called her a sheep, it might have made her more afarid. A glint of anger was in her eyes as the sheets then loosened.

"This comming from someone who likes to scare people?"


Rue snapped with annoyance. She felt like a child that had gone to bed without dinner in that moment.

"If your going to be like this, then let me go. I thank you for saving me, but I have to keep moving. My father won't stop just because of some magic tricks."

Her irritation, her anger, it all made him grin with glee – if a set of lips were visible. Her obvious position made him forget about the pains he himself had suffered, Though this bit of pleasure was quickly rinsed away as she brashly, foolishly insisted to be released from her containment. Though it wasn’t a completely unreasonable request though, at this moment it was quite unacceptable.

“Oh, and whom might your father be?” He’d hiss with curiosity as she could feel a looming presence above herself “And your not leaving anyway with that swollen, damaged ankle in the way it is…” he’d warn her, almost demanding of her to listen.

“Now I might let you leave, but only if you can force your way out – through me at night.” He’d offer to her, though so far only seeming like a wizard o an illusionistshe might feel he would be frail and effortless to move to the side – especially if she had forgotten the night before.

“Otherwise you’ll have to stay and keep me company…”

He was testing her! Rue could feel something near here. Unerving as it was, she knew he was right. Her ankle was still damaged enough that she couldn't walk. Even though he had set it, it was most likly that the cartalidge and tendons were damaged.

"He's Lord Canin and if you know anything of him, he will hunt you down. I have to leave."

Rue stated with assesment. her eyes glowered as she knew her father wouldn't rest until he had her in his grasp once more.

So the name of his conspirator had finally been revealed, no common noble of peasant would be related to anyone of a ranking ‘lord’ in title. Around her body she could feel the sheet tightening over herself, pulling her closer to the mattress “Is that so?” the very venom of malice dripped forth from the very words that passed through his ‘lips’. He had intended on letting her leave after a couple days, however with this latest news he could hardly pass up the opportunity. She WOULD not leave, and she would play a role in her father’s own demise.

“Oh, well that’s quite unfortunate.” He’d mock sympathy, “However, Lord CUR’s soldiers are about as competent as children playing Troops.” He’d berate her father, with a clear sound of animosity to the strangers voice. He had to wait just a little bit longer until he had his body returned to physical shape.

“No, you’re not going Anywhere, dear. In fact, you won’t be leaving for a good, long time!”

"No!"

She would say as the sheets wrapped tighter around her body. Forcing her to fall back against the bed as she struggled to break free. Whatever he was, he had power and wasn't afarid to show her the simple things. Rue didn't care that he talked down her fathers troops or even him. She wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Him or the suitor that he had chosen for her.

"NO! Let me go!!!"


Rue panted as she gave up fighting the sheets.

"I will kick your ass!!!!"

He’d laugh, her threats were meaningless to him one way or another but they were most amusing to hear. Suddenly just above her she’d see the slightly visible apparition of his chest and head slip down to meet her, helmet to face “Is that so?” He’d ask again, before mist that created the semi-transparent body would disappear.

“You can hardly fight your way out of thin sheets.” He teased her forth “If I wanted to I could do plenty of different things to you. Some good, Some bad.” He’d threaten or tease, depending on which way she looked at it.

She’d then feel heavy blankets begin to slide over the sheets that had tucked around her “Just a little bit longer and I won’t have to resort to these petty parlour tricks…” He’d mutter out loud for her to hear.

Shutting her mouth she watched as he formed semi above her. The feel she got from him told her that she shouldn't test his paitence anymore. As the blankets rose around her, the sun was setting behind the trees. Illumanating the room in a purplish orange glow.

"Leave me alone.."


Rue hissed and closed her eyes as her heart rate sped up gently.

Without needing to hold a head – or hand to her chest, he could feel her heartbeat rapidly picking up mildly. It was curious, it was…entertaining feeling what felt like a fingertip run over her stomach, it was really the sheets and unlike fingers it was not warm or cold. The man who now had her in his clutches would offer a slight cackle, a fit of humored laughter “Hmm, I wonder…” He’d mutter, wondering what was running through her head. However there was little time to receive an answer as the sunlight finally disappeared behind the trees, clouds and hills.

Suddenly a fog began to fill the room – technically this was him and he was touching her unintentionally all over before the mass began to start pressing together to form the shape of a man. Soon color began to splash over the cloudy substance and the shape began to refine itself until the man she had saw shortly before slipping into unconsciousness stood in the room with her.

“Now…this is much better.” He murred with some bit of pleasure to finally be in physical form again as he stretched though she could feel the sheets still holding her down.

Her Green eyes opened wide as the mist swirled around her. Skin tingeling as the mist packed together and formed into the man she had seen the previous night. He was tall and broad to her. With cool night air rushing into the room, it only added to her confusion. Rue knew there were people who could use magic, like the Elves, but not like this.

"W-What are you?"

Rue whispered as goosebumps started to trail against her body.

It was not a magic that any Elf would truly wish to have – for it was all against his own will for the time being. Perhaps just one more snack would give him the strength he needed to retain his physical entity whilst in brightly lit areas. He could tell she had goosebumps just by the feel of the cloth on her skin.

“I wish I’d known that myself.” The tall, no doubt strong man would tell her as he’d start to approach her. At the moment she must have felt both quite vulnerable yet concealed beneath the cloth as a chill started to enter the room. He’d begin to tug off the blanket – it was too late to go to sleep. As he stood near her, the feel of some otherworldly touch would brace against her face.

He’d notice the side of her neck – bare and fair and just ripe for the feasting, though that didn’t necessarily mean death. It was tempting, but it was a craving he could ignore as he’d kneel down and she’d feel a warm breath rush over her neck. “So, are you frightened now? You seem less mouthy…” He’d hiss to her.

Sh swallowed a mouthfull of air. Shivering as the warm breath skated across her neck. It made her shudder more as his hands reached and tugged at the blanket. Rue didn't know what much to do. He was more powerfull then anyone she had seen.

"Braggart.."

Rue snapped and looked into his eyes. Eyes that were covered behind a helm. He had the feel of death and yet she wasn't as intimadated as she was by her father or suitor.

"Let me go..Please."

She plead for release yet her body appeared to be confused, dismayed by the subtle attention that her captor had given to her. There was little she could do while wrapped up like a bag of potatoes. Another stray breath washed over the side of her neck before he’d stand, towering over her before he’d bring his hands up to the strange helmet and tug it off.

There she saw the man behind that helmet, perhaps it was familiar to her only his flesh was a pale bluish-white, and his eyes lacked iris as a ghostly fog covered the layer of his skin, running down his body. His head was bare of hair, and his face was thin and fair, strong, thick brows and a trimmed gottee that surrounded his lips and hung from his chin.

She was stll his, until she proved otherwise as he’d take his blade to hush her protest and began to run the flat of the cool, colder than average metal over her body, tracing over her body carefully with the blade for the sheets hardly contained the feel o the cold metal.

Rue gasped at what she saw when the helm was removed. It was a man, or, at least she thought he was a man. He didn't look like it to her though. Swallowing another mouthfull of air, she opened her eyes as he brought out a blade! it was then she figured he was just toying with her. Having fixed her ankle, just to torture her now for being of her fathers blood.

When the blade came down, she closed her eyes and waited for the pain. When nothing happened Rue started to shiver and as her eyes opened she saw a demonic look to his face. He was tracing the blade over the blanket and sheets and she could feel it! Whatever he was doing, she wanted him to stop.

Oh but he didn’t, and likely wouldn’t as any protest she might offer would either wind up nicking her or generally prove futile. Yes, a most wicked smile spread over his fair lips as he watched her squirm though really he didn’t intend on hurting the girl, despite her obvious ties to a greatly hated person. No, the wound would come from this woman into that man and he could already feel the pleasure of that man’s seething anger and yet it would hardly be anything compared to his own.

The chill pierced through the blankets, it was perpetually cold and the glossy metal would run over various areas, knowing no shame as he ran over her chest and stomach which was still very much covered by her blouse. He was testing her, seeing what buttons might be pressed by this, might they be good or might they be fierce. After several minutes he’d gently tug the blade from off of her, he could have easily violated her or trimmed the sheets as well as her blouse off in a quick motion, as easily as he could have physically tortured her through pain or worse.

He however, did neither “Now tell me, why were you running from your father?” He’d ask, as he’d take a simple, single chair and sit by her bed staring at her with those ghostly eyes.