Shadows Approach

All that was seen in the distance was the flickering of a shadow in the dim light of dusk. It would soon approach "the forest of death" as it was known to those in the wastelands. As it came closer and closer one could see what looked to be a blood coated cloak. It's dark red color would blend well into the night until the eyes looking upon it were close. An east wind blew it around the figure, masking him completely. He moved faster than anticipated by those watching him from the forest. The silver glow of eyes staring, watching, waiting.

Dozens of pairs of silver eyes watched the man from the forest as he approached. They waited intently, flickering in and out of the darkness, lining the edge of the treeline like menacing animals defending their lair.

The man did not hesitate when he approached the treeline. Hundreds of eyes watching his every move as he came closer to entering it.

As the man came closer, he would see and hear the bushes and leaves rustling in rhythmic, unnatural patterns as if something more than the chilling night air was moving through them.

Eerie whispers lingered forth from the forest, warning the man away from entering.

He did not slow nor hasten his step as he entered the forest. He did not acknowledge the presence of the strange beings around him.

As he crossed over the tree-line, it seemed like the entire forest shuddered with his presence.

The brush was thick and it would be difficult to move through without getting tangled up in the dense thorns and tangled vines. The figures in the forest watched his every step with extreme caution and intensity.

The thorns sliced through his flesh and cut him deeply but he did not slow his pace. He smashed the vines the grew up in his path with ease. One could see the blood that rolled down his arms and dripped faster and faster from his hands. Something else has wounded him there, something much larger than thorns.

Once the man made it through the thicket of slicing thorns, there would be a few rough trails leading deeper into the heart of the forest.

The skeletal remains of what looked to have once been a human were pinned against the trunk of one of the massive trees by a forking trail, held in place by crude metal spikes driven into it. Only dust and thick cobwebs seemed to hold it together and keep it from crumbling into a pile of ash.

Glints of shining metal flickered in the darkness close to the man, daring him to set foot on one of the paths. The Acolytes were watching.

He walked up to the skeleton and placed his left hand on it. he would examine it for a moment then remove his hand and walk on. He knew that he was being watched and he ignored their warnings. He walked on, choosing the path which the acolyte whom lead the dustmen into the forest had taken before him. He knelt down for a moment, observing the tracks of the dustmen. He seemed agitated when he placed his blood-dripping hand over a smaller, more feminine like footprint. He stood from when he knelt and followed the trail, unfazed by the warning and tracks he had examined.

The musty, rotten skeleton crumbled at the man's touch and collapsed onto the ground at his feet in a cloud of dust.

When he stopped and knelt down to examine the tracks, a figure stepped out onto the path a few feet in front of him. It stood perfectly still, with its eyes locked on him. The blade of a sword was clearly visible in the bleak moonlight.

"You are not welcome here. Go back."

He walked up to the man and stopped. The icy glare of his silver eyes would be seen from under his hood. He did not speak, nor seem in the least bit agitated or unsettled by the man's presence. After a moment he moved on, bypassing the figure the stood in his path.

The figure standing in the trail reached out for the man, attempting to grab his arm and hold him back. The other Acolytes began to converge on the scene, and their dark forms could barely be seen lining the edges of the path through the forest.

"Go back! Now!"

He looked back over his shoulder at the figure whom had reached for him. He did not stop walking nor did it seem like he had plans to do so. He ignored the acolytes who converged on the scene and went on without a word. Something was off about him, he didn't seem to care that they knew he was there let alone that they were watching him. In front of the figure where he had paused was a rather large pool of blood. He didn't seem to notice his own injury.

The Acolytes quickly began to move in on the man and surround him, blocking every path of escape. Their swords were all drawn, and they stood steadfast around him.

"Halt! You are not welcome here, outsider! Stop now!"

He stopped and accessed how many acolytes were around him. One could tell he was armed, a sword was positioned under his cloak. From most angles it seemed to be a large broadsword but drawn it is approximately the size of a human. He stood motionless as he scanned the acolytes and there weapons.
"I have no intention of turning back so stay aside," he said coldly.

There appeared to be at least a dozen Acolytes in the area immediately surrounding him, although they faded in and out of the darkness so frequently and seamlessly that it was almost impossible to tell. Their weapons appeared to be finely crafted silver longswords.

"You may not pass through this forest. You must turn back now."

he would watch their movements and calculate his own movements. Suddenly he dashed threw where one has backed away for a moment and lunged through before another could take it's place. He did this one a long while before falling (intentally) to his knees and waiting for the acolytes to surround him.

The Acolytes would quickly swarm him and completely surround him, each of them ready to strike him at any moment.

He stayed on his knees waiting for what the acolytes were to do next. He was still bleeding heavily from the unseen wound on his arm. He started to drift in and out of consciousness from loss of blood.

Two Acolytes approached from behind him and quickly tried to restrain the man forcefully without injuring him. They would try to pin his arms behind him and keep him on his knees while the others stood by, prepared to defend themselves if necessary.

He stayed motionless, without trying to fight them. His consciousness was fewer and farther between the haze he has drifted into.

The Acolytes quickly realized that the man was injured and almost completely unconscious. They bound his wrists together, removed his sword, and checked him for any other weapons he may be carrying as they spoke amongst themselves.

"This outsider looks like he's nearly dead..."

"Perhaps he came seeking help."

"What shall we do with him, then?"

"We should bring him somewhere to seek medical attention."

Zaiya stepped forth from the shadows, hissing with laughter. She had been watching the scene unfold, with great amusement at the man's pain.

"Ha! No, Acolytes. That's only too simple. Come, now...bring him along. We should have some fun with the poor bastard while he bleeds out."

He was in a haze but could still hear the muffled sounds of voices speaking around him. He felt them tying his hands and checking for weapons.

"I knew it. You reek of the outside."

Zaiya stepped forward and drew one of her swords, pressing the edge of the blade lightly against the man's face...toying with him.

"Well, aren't you just a pathetic excuse for an outsider...bleeding all over our forest. Perhaps you should bleed a bit more, since you all seem to think you're welcome to come in here whenever you want. Yes...bleed for your foolishness."

As she held the blade up to his face, she knelt down and thoughtfully dipped her fingers in one of the pools of blood that formed on the ground from the man's wounds. She examined it carefully, then wiped it off on the man's face. Slowly and tauntingly, she would allow her blade to slide down across his skin, possibly slicing a very thin, superficial cut into his cheek as she stared him down, face-to-face. After a few moments, she stood up in front of him and glared down at him.

"Acolytes, bring this pitiful hunk of Wastelands meat along. I have plans for him."

A few of the Acolytes stepped forward and began to kneel down, trying to carefully pick the man up. Zaiya smirked and shook her head.

"No, no. You've gotten it all wrong...don't carry him. Drag him."

Darrien remained in a complete daze and he was totally out of it as Zaiya spoke. He found himself starting to hallucinate, as images of his family from long ago began to haunt him...images of them before the Chroma Project. He weakly choked out the name...'Kona.'