Essence of the Night Stalker

by Merc Scar

Chapter 1 - Bargain

Micheal was looking over the contents of a pantry with a key-chain light, hoping to find a midnight snack. Nothing too big as he was soon going to be running a fair distance.

This will do nicely, he thought as he snatched up a chocolate muffin. Now I wonder if there's anything good to drink.

Looking deeper on the base shelf he spotted a familiar brown bottle, pulling it out his suspicions confirmed.

Old Bradley's spiced rum, wouldn't have thought that old bastard like this stuff, ah well my gain, Micheal thought.

Micheal closed the pantry doors and began making his way to the back door of the house with his prizes, until he noticed a small glimmer in the darkness of the house. Raising his light he saw a small figurine of what he guessed would have been a gryphon, the body was made from what he guess was obsidian, with garnet eyes, a silver choker and tail tipped with a blade.

Odd, never seen that before, and I break in here at least once a month, Micheal thought.

Putting the rum and muffin down he walked over to the figurine,the eyes seemed to glow as if with life, he felt some compulsion to touch the figure. Micheal could have sworn he saw the tail twitch as his hand neared the forehead.

Cold pain lanced up his arm when he made contact, recoiling back he grabbed his now numb hand. Micheal looked back to the figure when he heard a noise like glass scrapping glass, only to find it had changed from it's original sitting position to one suggesting it was about to pounce.

The shock of seeing the figure having changed caused Micheal to trip over himself, falling over only to slam his left elbow into a low coffee table, groaning from the new pain he looked back at the figure, to his horror was missing.

Around him he could hear the same cracking noise, it was like shattered glass crunching underfoot. Wildly he began looking around, trying to find the object of his new found fear, until he finally cause sight of it.

Micheal's light rested on the figure, barely a meter away from him, frozen in what he assumed was running.

For a long while he just stared at the figure, until his eyes could no longer take the burning sensation and blinked, in that split second the figure had risen up and if leaping at him.

Letting out a not too manly scream Micheal spun around and made a bee-line for the door, throwing whatever was in arms reach behind him to stop whatever that thing was.

When Micheal reached the door he furiously tried to open it, to no avail. The next thing he knew was a sudden weight slamming into his back, causing him to slam face first into the hard wood and collapse to the ground.

Rolling himself over his eyes slowly adjusted to the dim moon light that was streaming in through gaps in the blinds. He watched half consciously as the figure animatedly prowled over to his slumped body, eyes glowing like hot coals.

Micheal was struggling to maintain consciousness, to still escape, yet it was for naught and deep down he knew it. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was the figure leaping at him.

_____

Micheal groaned, his whole body ached to the bone like he had been sleeping on cold stone. His eyes flickered open to be greeted with a view of a star lit sky through a broken roof.

Micheal pushed himself into a sitting position, rolled his shoulders and looked around; he found himself indeed sitting on a stone floor, the room itself was acceptably lit from the starlight, various pieces of broken furniture lay about the room too such as a dresser and what he could only assume was once a bed.

As he was looking around a familiar cracking sound resounded from outside a pair of doors that looked to be barely hanging on their hinges. Panicking Micheal grabbed a rotten hunk of wood brandishing it like a club.

The crack and clatter outside stopped for a moment, wondering what was going on he took one step towards the doors. The moment his foot left the ground a loud eerie creak filled the air as the doors slowly moved towards him until they crashed onto the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and sending Micheal into a coughing fit.

When the dust cleared he was met with a sight he dreaded, the same figurine that had attacked him in the house he had been robbing.

What in the holy sweet fucking Jesus is going on, Micheal thought as he raised his improvised club towards the figure.

The figure regarded him for a moment cocking its head to the side as if contemplating something. After a few tense moments it turned around and strode away flicking its tail.

Micheal released his breath. “Thank god that things gone.”

Taking another look around the room, hoping to find an alternative exit rather wanting to avoid going near the very animate figurine. After a few minutes he established that the only way out would be through the main door.

Micheal jumped back into the room when he saw the figurine out in the hallway and braced himself in case it came back towards him, after a moment of silence he peeked back out into the hallway to find it sitting at the end patently, tail twitching every so often.

Looking the other way Micheal saw only a dead end, sighing he knew he would have to take his chances getting past the figurine.

Slowly Micheal advanced towards the figurine, step by painfully slow step, club raised and ready to fight.The figurine on the other hand just sat there waiting, uncaring to his approach until he was only a few meters away.

The figurine slowly rose and began to slowly walk away, maintaining the same distance perfectly between Micheal. Following the figurine Micheal peered into several rooms he passed by, all looking similar to the one he had woken up in, further down he saw the figurine was leading him to a stairwell.

Ok what the fuck, I get attacked by this thing and wake up in some sort of castle or dungeon? This makes no sense, I must be dreaming or something, gotten myself drunk probably, Micheal contemplated.

The figurine began to climb the stairs as he reached them, the wood they were made from appeared worn by time and barely stable. Gingerly Micheal placed his foot onto the first step, testing its strength, then the next.

The stairs gave out creaks of complaint as he climbed them, but otherwise to his surprise managed to hold. Around and around he spiraled up in whatever decrepit place he was in.

Once at the top the figurine strode off and turned into another set of hallways, guessing that it was leading him out, or at least somewhere important Micheal decided to follow it; however he was still wary of it.

As he slowly made his way down the hall after the figurine, Micheal began hearing a dull tune, slow and mournful. The closer he came to the end of the hall he saw a large engraved door, dull gold forming a sun and rays on one half and tainted silver forming a moon and stars on the other.

The tune became louder as he approached, tempo rising. The figurine entered through the partly open doors and Micheal followed, pushing the doors open releasing a loud ear splitting creak causing him to flinch.

The music continued to play and Micheal looked around the room. It appeared to at one point have been a grand hall, with two levels of seats looking onto a stage; half of the upper level had collapsed down into piles of rubble and most of the seats being wooden were rotten and broken with age. Tattered banners depicting either a sun or moon hung from a broken roof, holes revealing the night sky.

Down on stage Micheal saw the source of the music, a cloaked being was sitting in-front of a massive organ, one whose pipes covered the entire wall of the stage and rose far up. As he approached the being stopped its activity and rose to face him, it wore a tarnished bronze breastplate over a black robe, baleful red eyes glowed from the hood. A pair of satchels, dagger and several vials hung from various straps that wove around the armored plates; in one hand the being held a twin-bladed glaive; a part ran down the center where sat a softly glowing sickly green crystal.

“Ahh, so you're the little thief I was told of,” The figure spoke slowly. “Tell me, would you be interested in making deal?”

“First off, who are you?” Micheal demanded. “Secondly, where the hell am I?”

“Hmm, a feisty one, I'm sure you'd make a fine specimen with the right coaxing,” the being hummed.

“If you really must know, my name is Azmuun'thul. I make contracts with suitable creatures like yourself, have you develop powers, learn new skills; master the physical or mental, magical or mundane, become great,” the being spoke hypnotically. “As for where we are, currently we are just residing in a pocket realm, a bridging of our two minds.

“Okay, so pretty much I'm dreaming right now, that some strange dude is trying to sell super powers, I think I've dreamed weirder stuff,” Micheal said.

“Oh I assure you this is quite real,” the Azmuun'thul replied.

“Alright, prove it then,” Micheal challenged.

Azmuun suddenly pulled his staff back, green energy crackled up the blades; thrusting forward the staff loosed a bolt of crackling green fire straight at Micheal. Panicking he immediately dropped to the ground.

The sound of a small explosion behind him let Micheal know he was alright...or at least mostly, a warm feeling on his head as well as the smell of singed hair hit his nose. Looking up a small green mist trail was dissipating over head, behind him a small fire flickered on a destroyed piece of furniture.

“You almost took my bloody head off!” Micheal shouted back at Azmuun'thul, who shrugged back at him.

“I take that is real enough for you?” Azmuun'thul asked.

Micheal looked back to the torched wood then back. “Real enough. But what's the catch though, I'm sure you wouldn't have me out doing something stupid like picking flowers after that little speech of yours?”

“You've more sense than some of the others I've encountered of your species,” Azmuun'thul chuckled. “No, you're going to have a more interesting task, you will become a hunter straight from the nightmares of the weak.”

“First though I must offer you this contract,” Azmuun'thul said, pulling a scroll from his satchel and offering it to Micheal.

Micheal took the scroll and unrolled it.

Contract of service

I here by declare a subject to Azmuun'thul for a fixed period of time or until the task assigned is complete.

I am offered freedom to act as I see fit in order to complete any tasks given, I may be given free time between or during tasks to experiment with powers given to me.

However, should I fail tasks often and / or repeatedly, I grant Azmuun'thul the right to control me to succeed where I fail, until such a time where he believes I am once again capable to operate unguided – with limitations on freedom to act if required.

Should failure occur too often, or if the experiment / mission reach such a point to no longer be viable to continue for a worthy outcome, my service may be terminated.

Signed

Mira Shadowfeather
Kro'Gor
Kazzra
Thromgar Ironbeard
Lupin Stoneclaw
Angela Smith
Alzagor
Harrom Brightpaw
Moggthar
Alexei Sharov
Obsidian

Micheal read the parchment several times over. When he had heard the word contract, he'd expected something long and full of demands that would be near unachievable, this however was short and simple; follow the instructions given, don't fail and you'll be good.

“What's the catch? This seems too easy,” Micheal asked, looking up from the scroll.

Azmuun'thul pulled his hood away revealing his face, and not one of a human but a rat, smiling with cruel glee.

“What's written may be simple, but once you get out there, things get much more complicated,” Azmuun'thul replied. “The names that are crossed out failed for one reason or another.”

“And what do you want me to do exactly? Give me some detail here,” Micheal asked.

“As I've said, I want to give you the powers of one of the greatest hunters I've come across so far,” Azmuun'thul explained, stopping he pulled a vial containing a faintly glowing orange liquid from his second satchel. “This vials contains the pure essence of this creature, it will transform you into one of them. The unique trait about them is they all can absorb the specific powers of the races they were made to hunt, they also have this affinity with the shadows and night.”

“Well what's going to happen to all...well all this,” Micheal said gesturing up and down himself.

“Don't worry, you'll be able to revert to your normal form in time, however that will come later,” Azmuun'thul replied. “Should things play out smoothly, firstly you will be a hunter; developing and enhancing your powers and skills. Followed by infiltration, then lastly assassination. If you successfully complete this to the end, I will allow you to keep what you gain.”

Micheal was silent for a few minutes. The offer did intrigue him, and the potential for this unique power, he'd be mad to give this opportunity a miss. He did however have some reservations about the part where he'd have to be killing, sure he'd accepted that death was a natural part of life, but he'd avoided causing unnecessary death or harm during his burglaries.

Azmuun'thul's eyes narrowed and smile faded as time wore on.

Micheal released a deep sigh and looked up.

“Alright, screw it. I'll sign,” Micheal said.

Azmuun'thul smile returned large and toothy.

“Excellent, I knew I had a good feeling about you,” He said.

Opening a satchel again he pulled out a small black ink well and set it down on one of the only remaining tables in the room, he then drew his dagger and ran it along his palm pouring blood into the ink well.

Azmuun'thul gestured for Micheal to come to him.

Slowly Micheal walked over, placing the scroll on the table.

“Your hand please,” Azmuun'thul asked.

Slowly Micheal presented his left hand, Azmuun'thul grabbed his wrist holding him steady and quickly drew the blade over his palm.

Micheal instantly balled his fist, the searing pain across his hand as the cold steel left a long gash across his hand, blood trickling through dropping to the ground. Azmuun'thul simply sheathed his dagger and began collecting the blood that was oozing from Micheal's hand to the floor.

After a few seconds he withdrew the ink well placing it by the scroll. Now instead he grabbed Micheal's cut hand with his own, slowly a faint glow began to shine through followed by a warm sensation flowing up his arm. When Azmuun'thul retracted his hand, Micheal saw that both their wounds were gone.

“Uh, not to be that guy, but we don't have a pen or anything,” Micheal stated when he looked back at the table.

Azmuun'thul hummed in response. Reaching behind his neck he made a plucking gesture, bringing his hand back around he was now holding a quill and dipped it into the ink well.

“Last chance to back out, you know, just in case,” Azmuun'thul said innocently.

Micheal looked the scroll over one more time, then signed his name below the last signature. The mixed blood began to glow brightly after a few seconds, when it faded his name was now charred on, like the rest.

Azmuun'thul put a cap on the ink well and put it back in his satchel, then presented Micheal with the vial he originally showed him.

“Time to drink up,” he stated.

Micheal took the vial and removed the plug, tipping his head back he poured the tar-like concoction down his throat.

“I should probably come clean on this, but we're already in the world I was sending you too, I simply told you that this was a bridged realm to garner your co-operation,” Azmuun'thul said as Micheal swallowed.

“Well I don't see how it makes much of a difference now anyways,” Micheal replied.

Moments went by yet nothing changed, Micheal felt the same as he did before.

“I think your little potion there didn't wo-” Micheal was cut off by an intense stomach pain.

Soon an icy pain spread over his body, the feeling of bones snapping and reshaping themselves, fingers became talons, hair fell out soon replaced by rapidly growing feathers. Micheal's clothing tore apart with his changing body.

Next he felt a sharp pain in his neck and instantly felt drowsy. Pulling at the offending thing he saw it was a quill same as Azmuun'thul's, soon his vision began to blur.

“Just to ease the change,” Azmuun'thul's voice came through mumbled and distorted. “When you wake up, your first mission is to simply hunt and develop while avoiding being captured and imprisoned.”

Unable to focus any longer, Micheal passed out.

Comments

[Merc Scar]

7580383
Read on friend, you may like the rest of the show. There might be a spanner thrown here or there through that could 180 anyone's position.
*puts hands up innocently* not that I'm suggesting anything.

Also thank you for pointing that out, change has been made.

[ParodiaTheSilent]

I would not sign that fucking contract. He gets control of me at some point? Hell the fuck no.