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HeartOfTheDarkness
Promise Nothing, Deliver Less
- Joined
- Jun 8, 2012
Lyle limped to the closest building he could find on a rainy night. He had been walking for a while, and he couldn't take it anymore. He was injured badly, and his vision was getting blurry. As he moved closer to the house, he noticed that the area somehow seemed familiar, like he had been in this area before. It must've just been because he was hallucinating from blood loss.
Years ago, Lyle had a pretty decent life. He had a loving family, a nice home, and the best friend he could ever ask for. That all went to hell one day when he was 15, and werewolves attacked his family one night, and he was somehow left alive. From then on, he vowed to avenge his family, and see that werewolves were slaughtered like the dogs they were. Once he healed, he took all he could carry with him, and set out to find a society of people that hunted werewolves. After a year of searching, he finally found it and became a member, after a series of grueling tests.
After four years of training and learning how to track and kill the beasts, he was finally ready. It then took two more years to finally be able to hunt on his own. Now he traveled alone, hunting and killing packs of werewolves and then moving to the next pack. Over the years, he thought about his friend from home, and wondered if she was still around. It had been so long, he had a hard time remembering her name. It was a shame too, he had strong feelings for her back then, and he just left without saying goodbye when his family was killed. Now he was 23, and had hunted about seven hole packs on his own. He always carried on him a silver katana, and a revolver that fired silver bullets.
After just killing three powerful wolves, he was badly injured with a huge slash across his torso. He was in the middle of the forest when it happened he walked until he could find a house to find shelter in.
He collapsed on the ground, a few feet away from the front door. He saw lights on, knowing someone had to be home. He gathered the last of his strength and crawled to the door, coughing up blood along the way. He finally got to the door, leaned up against it. He banged his head on the door, knocking on it, heard footsteps approach, and fell into the doorway when the door opened. "H-help.........me." He said before he finally lost consciousness.
Years ago, Lyle had a pretty decent life. He had a loving family, a nice home, and the best friend he could ever ask for. That all went to hell one day when he was 15, and werewolves attacked his family one night, and he was somehow left alive. From then on, he vowed to avenge his family, and see that werewolves were slaughtered like the dogs they were. Once he healed, he took all he could carry with him, and set out to find a society of people that hunted werewolves. After a year of searching, he finally found it and became a member, after a series of grueling tests.
After four years of training and learning how to track and kill the beasts, he was finally ready. It then took two more years to finally be able to hunt on his own. Now he traveled alone, hunting and killing packs of werewolves and then moving to the next pack. Over the years, he thought about his friend from home, and wondered if she was still around. It had been so long, he had a hard time remembering her name. It was a shame too, he had strong feelings for her back then, and he just left without saying goodbye when his family was killed. Now he was 23, and had hunted about seven hole packs on his own. He always carried on him a silver katana, and a revolver that fired silver bullets.
After just killing three powerful wolves, he was badly injured with a huge slash across his torso. He was in the middle of the forest when it happened he walked until he could find a house to find shelter in.
He collapsed on the ground, a few feet away from the front door. He saw lights on, knowing someone had to be home. He gathered the last of his strength and crawled to the door, coughing up blood along the way. He finally got to the door, leaned up against it. He banged his head on the door, knocking on it, heard footsteps approach, and fell into the doorway when the door opened. "H-help.........me." He said before he finally lost consciousness.