Chapter 1: Perierat
Perierat
He blinked. His talons rose into his vision as his sharp eyes looked them over. His eyes quickly darted over his body. "Griffon…?" His beak felt strange, even foreign on his face as it moved about with his speech. His muscles were conditioned and taut, even if his joints were a touch achy. Upon closer inspection he could see dozens of small scars over his body, expertly healed from old wounds. His feathers hung heavy, wet with something that was not water; a strange cold fluid stuck to him, stuck to his whole body as if he had been submerged in the substance. His soft gray fur turned dark under the eerily cold and almost despairing feel of this liquid. It did not take him long to simply look behind him. Just a stone's throw to his rear, he saw a hole carved in the old limestone ruin, with wet tracks leading out of it all the way to his current position, literally just a few steps from the hole to where he currently stood.
Every talon-laid limestone slab must have been masterfully set in this ancient place thousands of years ago, every wall and every stone perfectly sat flush and was flawlessly clean. It had to be a temple of some sort. The centerpiece of the room appeared to be the hole now stared at, within the hole was a bubbling swirling well. The closer he got, the more he could feel a strangely familiar coldness. Something told him he knew the feeling well but could not place it, it scared him in an unnatural way. Clearly the hole was very dangerous, he just did not know why. In his mind he searched for the name of this place, though nothing came. he blinked, a small level of worry began to bubbled up inside him, not only did his mind not hold no name for the place, it held little else.
He thought hard; his mind churned and blazed back, trying to recall anything. Sensations touched his mind and tickled his feelings, but he could not remember how he even got into the room, much less what his name was, this of course should have caused him a great deal of fear and confusion; instead he just seemed mildly confused and calm, whoever he was, he was not easily panicked. He ran his talons through his fur and feathers, and he discovered that was not entirely naked. He had some armor. Very light, skirmisher or ceremonial. Quite suddenly he cringed in pain from something he did not see or understand. It simply felt like something simultaneously ice-cold and blazingly hot was sliding like a blade into his brain, so intense it brought him to his knees. A thick layer of dust stuck to his wet feathers, and he groaned. The pain was great, but he did his best to shoulder it and steady himself. Breathing deeply and clenching his beak tightly he distracted himself away from the pain and he quickly recognized the military possibilities of his attire, feeling very pleased with himself for pulling something out of his empty mind. Pushing himself upright, he rubbed his head. "At least there is something in there..."
He yanked off a piece of the armor and peered over it to see the words Mors est haereticis engraved deep into the enchanted metal. His mind instantly recognized the writing but refused to let him in on it. It was like a tantalizing hunk of knowledge before him; the answer was at the tip of his tongue, but no matter how hard he tried, nothing would make it come out. It was not just the translation, but the name of the language, why it was on the armor, who the armor belonged to. It was not a far stretch to assume that he was a member of a military order of some sort. His mind poked and prodded at the idea as he fitted the piece back onto his armor. He paused for a moment looking closer and found that his body was very fit, more so than a normal soldier, not to mention the scars and the calluses on his talons. He clearly had been using his talons for something over a very long period of time, handled tools, or weapons. But he felt certain he was not a gardner.
He whipped his tail back and forth before pouncing on it for inspection. There were several bands tightly wrapped about it in various places. It was unclear whether it was ritualistic, fashion, or some sort of ineffective-looking armor, but it looked like it might be a part of the full armor set. He let his tail go and looked about again. But again without warning he cringed in terrible pain, letting out a pained yelp and stumbling forward to the wall for support. His eyes clenched shut. Opening them, he felt blood spattered across his face and about his body, a blade in his talons plunging into the heart of a draconequus cradling a child. A feminine face twisted in horror and pain trying to keep her infant from him and from the blade. His eyes snapped open again to see he had not made it to the wall. Struggling upright, he lost the contents of his stomach and staggered back. He hoped to whatever deity was listening that what he saw was some sick joke, or a deception. It wrenched at his guts and caused more pain than he could handle. His mind was on fire with emotions which were too much pain for him to just shrug off, but strangely fear was very mild, what dominated his senses was disgust, disgust against those dying in his visions. He began to suspect he was not a very kind individual.
"What the bloody Tartarus?!" He shivered, then smashed his balled talons into the wall. His joints popped and creaked, the pain helped him focus his mind away from the memory. His breathing was ragged and his heart was beating out of his chest. He stood, forcing his body to remain still and not shiver. His throat threatened to seized, but by sheer willpower he steadied his breathing. He was just starting to get it settled when he blinked and everything went to darkness once again. His whole reality he was so sure he had a hold on was gone again.
"Your breathing, boy! STEADY IT!" A one-eyed griffon glared at him angrily. Though no matter how hard he stared at the old one, he could not see the all of the old griffon’s face, he could only feel the pain in his little limbs, see the raised welts from being beaten with the training swords over his young body. He could feel it, he was young, so young that he had only just learned to fly. And now he was learning to fight as was proper. "The clans need warriors, boy! I fought in my first skirmish by your age, will you be a warrior, or just another milk drinker?" His sharp yells were quickly drowned out by another memory sneaking up and into his mind. He could see the old griffon, a broken blade lodged in his neck. His last words gurgled through the blood drowning his lungs. "That's my boy!" Then death with a smile, an authentic smile. The image brought him a twinge of pain but overwhelming pride with an ounce of sorrow. This old bird was someone very important to him, but he died with joy in his heart just like the blade in his throat and he was somehow ok with the old bird passing.
The memory shattered and he regained his awareness as the olive wood doors at the very far end of the room, burst open, practically tearing off their ancient hinges. Two griffons soldiers strode in, clad beak to claw in heavy steel armor; these bulky combatants quickly spotted him. One stepped forward with a what looked like a relieved smile. The other, however, shot a taloned grip out and halted the first. His head shook firmly from side to side and he looked back at the lost griffon. Without a word, the guard tapped his poleaxe on the ground twice and waited. The two guards were staring at him, this was some sort of challenge, a code, but he had no idea what how to respond, what the return call sign was. With his failure to respond the hope-filled smile on the first guard vanished, and the other leveled his weapon at the memoryless griffon.
His eyes widened, seeing the bladed weapon aimed at him. The first of the soldiers began his charge with martial precision. Their choice of actions made his mind buzz, the sign before waiting for the countersign, then instant violence, he now knew he was somehow acquainted to these griffons. But they somehow knew he did not belong, apparently they were not interested in talking it out and giving him the help he needed. The first weapon swung, and something tickled the fringes of his mind, as if a voice spoke, but through feeling. Not words, but the base instincts that occur to feed the mind and trigger words. Ternin swings too wide, step into his reach and counter.
He moved quickly, stepping into the blow before raising his talons to counter the swing by striking the guard’s elbow safely inside of the reach of the poleaxe. A balled up mass of talons smashed into the guard's throat as he whipped his tail about behind the guard’s hind legs at floor level, grasping the end of of the tail in his talons the amnesiac griffon dashed forward, yanking the stunned guard's paws from under him and meeting the second guard half way. Within the talons of the second and younger guard was a white war pick. It looked like it was carved from bone and weighed down or reinforced with metal. He struggled with the word for the weapon in his other hand but settled on “tonfa”. The setup was designed for speedy combos and a quick finisher, he wasn't really set up for such a battle, but the fragmented impulses told him what to do. Metyr is young, new; his mettle has not been truly tested. He will be easy to scare off. His wings opened in a sudden flash as he let his armor catch the pick as it hacked downward at him, sinking in but not doing much to his actual body beside giving it a small bruise. He swung his left arm to block the incoming tanfa as his right set of talons found a void in the armor of his foe, plunging in and tearing shallow wounds in the young guard's chest. He could see the look on the boy’s face. The youth was filled with terror by the sight of his own blood, not realizing the wound was so minor and just messy he began to panic and fell back, dropping his weapons and trying to apply pressure on his wounds. The moment the blood trailed back flicking off his withdrawing talons the griffon's mind exploded once more into his illusions. Screams filled his ears, the images flashed before his eyes. Not soldiers, but children, and women. Mares, fillies and colts, hatchlings and more. Things that could not fight back, soaked in blood against stone and cold steel. By reflex, he turned and his wings blurred with speed as he did his best to flee.
His momentum came to a sudden halt when a barbed knife plunged into his back and a wire pulled taut. As if harpooned, he was now being held in place by the first guard, who had only just came back to his paws. The guard was ready to give the stringed weapon a firm yank when a new emotion flooded the lost and confused griffon. Contempt, this filth was beneath him. He made a sudden savage slash of his talons through the air, given the distance between them he could not quite make out why he had chosen to perform this action. Nevertheless, even more surprisingly, sickly black flames shot out and coated the floor and walls, quickly eating through the wire enough for him to be free once again. The power within felt good. It was pure domination, setting things right. He was in charge, they were right to fear him.
Coughing and wincing at the pains within him, he realized that he had just done magic and clarity came back to him. He was not very confident in his memory, but something told him that griffons were not supposed to be capable of magic, and the way this dark magic clung to his body, like ink or runny tar, felt filthy. Just as fast as he had whipped about to take action, he turned again and took flight. Blasting off into the air, his wings beat in full heavy thrusts despite the blade in his back. Once in the air his eyes darted about in a panic picking out the exterior of some sort of old castle and even various griffons on the ground, many looked up and pointed as if they were asking if they had permission to engage. He picked up the pace before feeling the pain in from the blade, he reached back and yanked it out but elected to keep the blade. Sliding it beneath one of the many belts over his body he continued forward.
Loosening his armor he was tempted to ditch it but instead he just focused on putting as much distance as possible between himself and the strange ruin. He was still relatively calm, which surprised and concerned him. Who was he that he was not disturbed by this? Who was he that he felt pride in those nightmare images? Who was he that he could look at something identical to him in race and feel they were beneath him? Whoever he was, this griffon was not pleased with learning about himself.
His wings carried him as fast as he could go as his mind waged war within itself, trying to figure out what was going on Thinking back to the other Griffons, he felt unsafe and refused to land. He despite how capable he seemed, he was pretty beat up and more than a little confused, any further griffon hostility was a mistake to welcome. So landing anywhere nearby was probably a mistake as he was likely to be the target of more attacks. As such, he continued blazing his trail through the sky even when he noticed that there was water beneath him instead of land. He continued, following the sun and refusing to let his body slow. The wound in his back ached, and he still could not remember a single thing other than the events of the past hours. Those few moments were burned into his mind like a brand, and he poured himself over every last detail, trying to figure out everything he lacked.
Hours passed, and he came to notice that the sun was setting, he continued west and did not look back. He barely managed to close his eyes and was rather surprised to drift off before waking up in near fits of fear. He was getting some rest, but his body burned and no matter how much sleep on the wind he got, he still couldn't seem to feel rested.
He felt like had been going for ages, the clouds blocked almost everything so with his perception it could have been hours or days. Looking down through a crack in the clouds, he could vaguely see land below him. Even his excessively physically fit body was starting to reach end of its natural ability. Even without the wound and confusion or internal distress, he would have been close to simply passing out due to exhaustion, it was already a miracle he had made it this far. His fur was clotted and matted with dried blood seeping from his wound, his wings felt like they were on fire, his eyelids felt like they were made of lead. He was more than just tired. This was utter exhaustion. He didn’t have the power to fight it anymore, and to make it worse, the crosswinds that had held him aloft while he closed his eyes all but vanished. A sudden air pocket let him slip and drop through the clouds, he tried to catch himself but his wings buckled and he entered free fall. Even if he had the mental strength to continue on, his physical stamina was depleted. His body would no longer listen to any commands, and he was already already losing consciousness in the air.
The wind whistled past his head, but he did not notice or care. His ears popped at the rapid loss of altitude, but he was not awake to feel the discomfort. His body rocketed downward, toppling through the air as he plummeted. His eyes opened to narrow slits, just in time to witness a large blur zooming quickly up to him, but just as fast he slipped back into unconsciousness as the blur of a crystal castle zoomed up to meet him.
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You've done a good job of building up the suspense in this. I can't wait to read what happens in the story next. Keep up the good work with everything.
7634520 >w< yey.
It is a shade or two dark, but it has some really good stuff in it. I hope to amaze and inspire ^w^ all who read it
7634522 You are doing a great job. So I am sure you will.
Many questions I'm hoping for answers to.
7637797 that is the fun with a mystery
So many questions, and as you go along every question leads into another that slowly begins to seal the canopy of answers above you until you can see clearly what is going on... and who he is OwO
7638017
Actually, this chapter has left me empty with questions. I'll be reading it regardless.
7638120 well please do stay tuned. ^_^ The plot of the story is VERY in depth
7638123
I'll hold ya to that!
7638222 and I shall not disappoint ^_^
Will definitely stay tuned. Still trying to figure out who he is for roleplay xD
This looks like it could be interesting
I hate it 😚
8815931
Fite me boi!
It's taken me a while to get into this story but in finally hooked enough to read it.
10343028
Thank you, it's kind of my Mona Lisa my baby.