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Campion
Star
- Joined
- Mar 11, 2015
- Location
- Eastern US
Camp paused in the doorway. He odd sense told him that something was odd and he got that tingling between his shoulder blades. When it became an itch, he jumped to the left and a crossbow bolt spanged off the stone doorway of the cathedral.
Seven years of hunting. Eighteen months combing Europe. Had it all led him here to be killed by an outmoded weapon? He dove into the church and hurried in to the darkened interior. The Elizabeth Kirche in old Marburg was still holy ground. And he nodded to the tomb of Hindenburg as he passed.
But from his research, some dark things could enter holy ground where their masters could not. He checked his Desert Eagle .45 magnum auto. Safety was off…and the silver dipped bullets with rosewood centers were loaded.
How had he gotten into this mess? Oh that was easy! As an FBI agent, who had tracked a horrendously savage killer for years, he’d gotten hooked on understanding what was going on. Even when the agency claimed terrorists were responsible for the massacres…apparently, an organized terrorist group was more palatable to the public than a single individual freely slaughtering whomever he felt. Eric stretched his 5’9" inch frame. He was thin, but reasonable muscular. Blue eyed, but not strikingly so. Sandy brown or blondish hair, depending on the light. Good looking, but not that handsome. In short, he was forgettable.
He’d spent three years chasing the Fanged cannibal, and gotten close twice, but the human beast eluded him. Unfortunately, he also started to notice odd things. Guards with empty pistols and a lack of the expected bullets on site. Security videos that only recorded a blur moving faster than humanly possible.
The child who survived…and was eating a piece of horehound candy. All made a poor mix that pointed to something even more sinister than a talented Cannibal with a taste for slaughter..
And then there was his odd sense. It had only bothered him on rare occasions in years past…helping him avoid accidents…not going down an alley where someone ended up dead later that night… It usually kept him from trouble. But with this case, he caught gleanings of something more. And in his research, he caught sight of similar findings from around the world. Cropping up and then moving on…for over two hundred years. He was too invested, they said. He was becoming delusional, they said. He only knew that he was starting to predict the location of the next attack.
Then there was the other piece. Who was the Dark Guardian? Some creature who intervened when the slaughter got too bad. It was rumored.
Well back to the present. The church door groaned and there was a scuttling. He’d heard that sound twice before. It harbored bad news.
He slid to the pew end and looked up. Yeah, it was going to attack from there. When it dropped, he emptied the magazine into it. Nailed it. Then he heard the second set of scuttling from behind, and he went cold. But instead of a garrote around his neck, there was a snapping and crunching sound. He spun and finally saw her. The Dark Guardian.
Seven years of hunting. Eighteen months combing Europe. Had it all led him here to be killed by an outmoded weapon? He dove into the church and hurried in to the darkened interior. The Elizabeth Kirche in old Marburg was still holy ground. And he nodded to the tomb of Hindenburg as he passed.
But from his research, some dark things could enter holy ground where their masters could not. He checked his Desert Eagle .45 magnum auto. Safety was off…and the silver dipped bullets with rosewood centers were loaded.
How had he gotten into this mess? Oh that was easy! As an FBI agent, who had tracked a horrendously savage killer for years, he’d gotten hooked on understanding what was going on. Even when the agency claimed terrorists were responsible for the massacres…apparently, an organized terrorist group was more palatable to the public than a single individual freely slaughtering whomever he felt. Eric stretched his 5’9" inch frame. He was thin, but reasonable muscular. Blue eyed, but not strikingly so. Sandy brown or blondish hair, depending on the light. Good looking, but not that handsome. In short, he was forgettable.
He’d spent three years chasing the Fanged cannibal, and gotten close twice, but the human beast eluded him. Unfortunately, he also started to notice odd things. Guards with empty pistols and a lack of the expected bullets on site. Security videos that only recorded a blur moving faster than humanly possible.
The child who survived…and was eating a piece of horehound candy. All made a poor mix that pointed to something even more sinister than a talented Cannibal with a taste for slaughter..
And then there was his odd sense. It had only bothered him on rare occasions in years past…helping him avoid accidents…not going down an alley where someone ended up dead later that night… It usually kept him from trouble. But with this case, he caught gleanings of something more. And in his research, he caught sight of similar findings from around the world. Cropping up and then moving on…for over two hundred years. He was too invested, they said. He was becoming delusional, they said. He only knew that he was starting to predict the location of the next attack.
Then there was the other piece. Who was the Dark Guardian? Some creature who intervened when the slaughter got too bad. It was rumored.
Well back to the present. The church door groaned and there was a scuttling. He’d heard that sound twice before. It harbored bad news.
He slid to the pew end and looked up. Yeah, it was going to attack from there. When it dropped, he emptied the magazine into it. Nailed it. Then he heard the second set of scuttling from behind, and he went cold. But instead of a garrote around his neck, there was a snapping and crunching sound. He spun and finally saw her. The Dark Guardian.
