Scotty Rave
Member
The Englishman’s jovial face became stern all of a sudden and he turned to the door of the little pub. He could sense the thing waiting for them outside, and his hand rested on the pommel of the sword hidden under his cloak.
“There’s something outside,†he said quietly to his companions. “Can you feel it? The air, it’s far too still, something unholy awaits us, wants us. Dead, most likely. Something…that does not belong.â€
Ignoring his drink, he started walking away. He could see something standing in the darkness of the undergrowth. Something with a multitude of eldritch, mustard yellow eyes, making a hideous clack-click-clack sound with the long, drooping mandibles hanging out of its hard face. The dim sunlight glistened off its sharp edges, and the Englishman could see the outline of not two, but four thin and agile legs ending in clawed, slimy feet. A lengthy tail swish-swished from side-to-side. In the near distance, there was the rumble of marching feet and the crackling of flames. He could see smoke rising off to one side. Fire. The cursed red flower of man.
“Almighty God, Father of All I See, guide my hand so I might send this unholy demon back into the pits of Hell,†he whispered, praying quietly, unsheathing his mighty sword and raising it above his head. The power of the Earth flowed through him as emerald green, silver and gold armour seemed to materialise around his body. A long and beautiful mane extended from his helmet and a black lens covered his one good eye.
“There you are, Kamen Rider,†hissed the thing as it stepped into the light. Its lower body was like an enormous black horse, with a blood red tail and long, gnarled claws on the ends of its reptilian feet. Its upper body was that of a man, a pale torso covered in scars and war-paint, curved blades extended out from its elbows, with gory strings attaching them to its hands so it could pull them down in a split-second. The most horrible thing by far was its head. The Englishman had never seen such a thing, it was grey and hard like metal. The silver mandibles, long as a man’s forearm, were jutting out of a small mass of writhing pink tendrils and dripped with viscous, orange-and-black venom. Its eyes seemed to open, close and reopen in different places all over its surface. A smog-like mess of black hair went down from the back of its head to the base of its human part. It towered over him, poised to strike.
“God’s teeth,†the Englishman whispered, raising his sword. He bellowed, “Come at me then you infernal beast! I’ll send you crawlingback to Lucifer for forgiveness!â€
“There’s something outside,†he said quietly to his companions. “Can you feel it? The air, it’s far too still, something unholy awaits us, wants us. Dead, most likely. Something…that does not belong.â€
Ignoring his drink, he started walking away. He could see something standing in the darkness of the undergrowth. Something with a multitude of eldritch, mustard yellow eyes, making a hideous clack-click-clack sound with the long, drooping mandibles hanging out of its hard face. The dim sunlight glistened off its sharp edges, and the Englishman could see the outline of not two, but four thin and agile legs ending in clawed, slimy feet. A lengthy tail swish-swished from side-to-side. In the near distance, there was the rumble of marching feet and the crackling of flames. He could see smoke rising off to one side. Fire. The cursed red flower of man.
“Almighty God, Father of All I See, guide my hand so I might send this unholy demon back into the pits of Hell,†he whispered, praying quietly, unsheathing his mighty sword and raising it above his head. The power of the Earth flowed through him as emerald green, silver and gold armour seemed to materialise around his body. A long and beautiful mane extended from his helmet and a black lens covered his one good eye.
“There you are, Kamen Rider,†hissed the thing as it stepped into the light. Its lower body was like an enormous black horse, with a blood red tail and long, gnarled claws on the ends of its reptilian feet. Its upper body was that of a man, a pale torso covered in scars and war-paint, curved blades extended out from its elbows, with gory strings attaching them to its hands so it could pull them down in a split-second. The most horrible thing by far was its head. The Englishman had never seen such a thing, it was grey and hard like metal. The silver mandibles, long as a man’s forearm, were jutting out of a small mass of writhing pink tendrils and dripped with viscous, orange-and-black venom. Its eyes seemed to open, close and reopen in different places all over its surface. A smog-like mess of black hair went down from the back of its head to the base of its human part. It towered over him, poised to strike.
“God’s teeth,†the Englishman whispered, raising his sword. He bellowed, “Come at me then you infernal beast! I’ll send you crawlingback to Lucifer for forgiveness!â€
