#darck fantasy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

puttingfingerstokeys · 5 years ago

Text

[untitled]

Nanowrimo day 20 Featuring Alabaster Belmont, Joachim Armster, Alucard, and Darck Eve, an OC on loan from @darckcarnival Modern dark fantasy Castlevania, violence, blood Unfinished and unedited

The castle gates yawned open, a drawbridge spanning a moat within which flowed, not water, but stinking, crimson blood. Alabaster gagged and held a hand over his mouth and nose as the four mismatched companions passed the threshold of the ancient place, their heels ringing hollowly on the old wood and silent cobblestones.

No sooner had they entered than the portcullis dropped with a resounding smash. Alabaster jumped and whirled about to force himself to face whatever had made the sound. Part of him had, of course, known exactly what it was, but that was not enough to stop the reflex. A hand on his shoulder calmed his nerves. Despite the paleness of it and its owner, Alabaster felt at ease and raised his own hand to cover it, a silent thank-you. For some reason, the idea of making noise in this unholy space felt ironically sacrilegious.

He turned his attention to his other companions, Darck Eve and Adrian Tepes himself. Still standing next to him, Joachim Armstair maintained constant, physical contact with the only human in their party. Alabaster’s heartbeat was quick and strong and all three night walkers could hear it. They would have been lying if the had told him they were not scared, as well. Castlevania had not manifested itself this way in ages. It was a sight to behold and sent chills down even the stoutest spines. Surely, these four must have been that, else they would never have dreamed of setting foot here, on this blasted ground.

The courtyard was wide, stretching far to either side of them, and might once have held a bustle of activity, but that had been centuries prior and now only death and decay remained. Alabaster took in the sights slowly, methodically, centering himself on Joachim’s touch as he did so. He was not prone to full-on panic attacks, but now would not be the time to put that particular bit of truth to the test; it could always change.

“He’s not makin’ this easy,” Darck observed quietly, the first to speak. Alucard shook his head, his white-gold tresses catching the moonlight far above and shimmering like so much silk and gold. Even in this eerie, haunting light, he was beautiful. Alabaster had thought that was just the nature of vampires, but in reality, Adrian Tepes was, simply put, a stunning specimen of half-humanity who likely would have been so regardless of his vampiric blood.

“My father’s castle has ever been a stronghold,” said Alucard. “More than that, however, it is a reflection of what is inside him.”

Joachim made a noise of disgust and drew Alabaster closer. Alabaster did not resist, preferring to be enveloped in arms he knew could protect him, versus pretending he had more bravery in him than he did. It did not take a perspicacious individual to tell that whatever must have been lurking within the heart of the master of Castlevania was horror personified. It also would have taken very little insight to ascertain that, along with the hatred, anger, and rage, there was no small measure of grief. One might almost have pitied the night king.

Alabaster did not.

“We don’t have time for this,” Alabaster hissed, keeping his voice low to disguise his terror. They could hear his heartbeat, but he was not about to wear his brain on his sleeve, too. “I’m sick of lookin’ at this place, already. Let’s kick his damn door in and find my sister.”

Darck winced. Alabaster knew as well as the rest of them that the presence of the Vampire Killer on his hip meant that his sister had departed from this world. Knowing Rosario, she had gone with fists and holy water flying, but that did not bring her back. Rather than heartlessly reminding Alabaster of this fact, however, Darck kept her mouth shut, but shared a look with Alucard. He shook his head minutely and gestured that the boy was right; they had little time.

That the castle had physically manifested meant that the imminent return of the dark lord himself was nigh upon them. As if to confirm this, the courtyard was suddenly soaked in rust-colored light as the moon turned to a gaping wound, casting its pall over everything under heaven, daring the foursome to move.

Alucard drew his weapon. He offered no explanation for this, but the other three followed suit, forming a ring and facing outward. Darck, ever the pragmatist, drew and checked her sidearm, checking the safety. Joachim began to hover, reaching out with his abilities to locate any discarded weaponry; a few rusted swords and a battle axe flew to his aid and ringed them around. Alabaster knew he should have drawn Vampire Killer, but just the thought of weidling his sister’s weapon filled his heart with squeezing despair. He raised both hands in front of him instead and, drawing a few complex, runic sigils in the air before him, summoned power from the universe itself and conjured a ball of crackling energy that spat sparks into the reddish shadows around them.

All at once, the air around them shuddered and reverberated with the groans and cries of the damned, the dead, the undead, and all manner of voracious beast of the night that Dracula kept within his ever-shifting walls. Shambling corpses rose first, their stink issuing forth and hitting the foursome like a wall. Alabaster retched, but the rest showed no sign they had even noticed it, beyond the minute twitch at the corner of a mouth, the beginnings of a grimace.

“Stand firm,” Alucard growled, “and move as one, lest we be overcome.”

It was as good a strategy as any. The four of them knew which direction they had to go, at least, and staying together would not hurt a bit. The first of the undead horde reached their position with a staggering grasp for someone’s cloak or leg. They were batted away with a swift boot and the sharp report of pistol fire which echoed angrily off the surrounding walls.

More zombies flung themselves at the group and were met with blade, rusted and well-oiled, bullet, and magic. Deferring to Alucard’s wisdom, they moved as one, stepping in to fill gaps and covering one another. Dark kept a watchful eye on the dhampir’s back and Joachim upon Alabaster’s as they forced their way through the throng.

“This isn’t enough to stop us,” Darck hissed. “You know he knows that… So what the hell’s he doing?”

“A war of attrition, perhaps?” Joachim suggested as blades spun about them, mowing down shambling corpses as if they were nothing. “Wearing us out to make easier targets for his generals. It’s what I would do.”

Alucard nodded, “indeed,” he confirmed, “that may very well be the case. Sacrificing a few pawns for the grand chessboard has ever been one of my father’s uglier… idiosyncrasies.”

“Not… super out of character for a guy with the nickname ‘impaler’, to be honest,” Alabaster bemoaned, flinging lightning, which caught a whole crowd of the undead by surprise (if zombies could feel surprise, that is) and frying them almost instantly. His comment earned him a slap on the back from Darck, who was barely containing her mirth.

In fact, after a few minutes of this onslaught, the four of them had all begun to loosen up, feeling themselves a little more fully and stretching the limits of their abilities just a little bit once they realized that everyone else was more than capable of defending their own person and area.

Darck was letting loose her liquid shadow abilities, rather than relying on her firearm. Alucard was dicing zombies into chunks. Joachim had acquired a slightly larger arsenal from some of the weapon-wielding undead. Alabaster was commanding an arc of flame that resembled a great serpent, plowing its way through the undead hordes. They were awash with corpses and the smell of burnt flesh, but never did they separate, never did they lose sight of one another or their goal.

It was not long before Castlevania seemed to catch on, as if the first hordes were just a test of their strength, a gauge to see precisely what threat level it ought to anticipate. Alucard called a halt to their advance and bade them come together once more. “I feel the castle rising beneath us; something moves in its depths, hidden in the womb of darkness.”

Darck was struck by the poetry of his words and, in other circumstances, would have commented thereupon. She could not help herself picturing some kind of weird, monstrous birth, an ancient womb gushing forth with putrid fluid, ichor, and the maimed remnants of what should have been its child. She wondered if it would show itself now, or if they would need to delve deeper to find it. There was no doubt in her mind they would see it at some point, whatever it was.

“I mislike the feeling of this place. We ought to move,” Joachim suggested, gesturing toward the grand staircase which led into the castle proper. The doors yawned, as the gates had done, a great, gaping maw, awaiting their arrival. A fine, crimson-colored carpet had been unfurled to greet them, like a tongue lapping outward, seeking to draw a meal in.

“The whole place is gunna feel like this, Jo’,” said Alabaster sourly. Alucard shook his head, gesturing that they should indeed move.

“He’s right,” Darck pointed out, “I mean it is Castlevania, but… y’know now you mention it fellas, I think something is truly fucked.”

They started their forward pace once more, easily carving through zombies as they made their way across the final stretch of the cobbled courtyard for the staircase. Every one of them expected their way to be barred by some eldritch horror, a mass of ichor and rage the likes of which they had never seen. Every step forward, they anticipated this, knowing it would come, that it must come. Eventually, even Alabaster felt the difference in the tremors beneath their feet, from that of the zombies to the larger, looming threat.

They reached the stairs as a yawning chasm opened up right in the very center of the courtyard, spilling forth a sickly, red-orange glow as if rising from the depths of hell itself. The ground began to fall away and they scrambled up onto the porch-like platform just before the door as the cobbles gave way and tumbled into the ever-widening pit.

A misshapen hand reached out of that pit, grabbing the edge and pulling more rubble down as it scrambled for purchase. Alucard, Darck, Joachim, and Alabaster were rooted to their spots, just outside the threshold of the door to Dracula’s accursed abode, their gaze locked on whatever was about to rise from that crevasse. Steam belched forth, followed by a deafening roar that was some combination of thunder rolling and an earthquake ripping through the earth.

“Go!” Darck shouted, gesturing toward the door. “Go, GO GO!”

She was certain, as the hand was joined by another, that they were quite far from equipped to deal the fiend that was about to rise. She was also absolutely, unsettlingly certain that the moment the doors closed behind them, they would be safe from it, that Dracula and his enchanted castle would not dare unleash something like that within its walls proper.

Something about her tone convinced them of this same idea, though not in so many words. Joachim dropped the swords he had been controlling and bustled Alabaster through the door, the young man being his first priority. Alucard grabbed Darck’s upper arm and gave it a solid tug. Despite her warning, the woman’s eyes were still riveted upon the pit.

“For my sake,” he whispered, “if not your own, Darck, you must heed your own warning.”

This snapped her from her hypnotized state and she whirled, joining him in passing the threshold. The doors closed sharply behind them, the resounding boom drowning the beast’s deafening bellows from without and leaving them in a tomb of silence.

“Welcome home,” Darck grunted.

#OC #CC #CW #AU #violence #blood #castlevania #Alabaster Belmont #Joachim Armster #Alucard #Adrian Tepes #Darck Eve

0 notes