Story Prt. 7

Alone in the woods, Azuroth found himself lost again among his thoughts. He could not figure out why the children of the village wouldn't play with him. They constantly ridiculed him for being an outsider and different. The only thing he did wrong was speak his opinions, which often concluded with him voicing his thoughts on death. Azuroth believed death was not the end. No other magi was able to bring things back from the dead, and neither could Azuroth. Yet.1

He came upon a river, where a gryphon lay dieing on the ground. Crimson blood flowing into the river contaminating the flow with its stark red tide. Down the stream for about twenty yards he could trace the tail of the blood through the eddies and swirls of the river. He knelt beside the poor helpless creature, and cradled it's head in his arms. Doing all he could to pacify the beast. Slowly all life flowed out of the beast, the river had drank its fill and now all that remained for the creature was the stark void of death. Azuroth did not blink once as he watched the eyes of this animal, in his arms, glaze over with the pallor of death.2

He called for, his gryphon steed, this animal had been his prideful mount for only about three months now but already he loved the creature more than any other man he had met in his life of eighteen years. He felt more comfortable with the gryphon than he did with most men.3

From the east, over the Ridjak Ranges, came a squawk far distant, as yet. Slowly a spot was seen over the purple grey knobs of the mountain peeks. He stared almost into the sun to watch his noble friend approach. The spot he was staring at, amid the others developing in his vision, widened and the wings became noticible, winging their way to the west where they were needed by Azuroth. He at last dropped his head to stare at his hands, covered with blood as they were. He looked around him. A small glade found itself his home this afternoon, surrounded by gently swaying birch and tall powerful oak. Typical of this area he noted to himself. The river ran its course through the center of this wood, burbling over stones, coursing its way along without heed to the taint of death that twinged its crystal clarity. Noises of the forest rang in his ears. But through it all, he could only hear one thing: the silence of the creature he had been holding alive in his arms only moments ago.4

A loud squawk broke his tremulous introspection. He glanced up to see his gryphon wing to the ground before him just past the edge of the forest. It was a beautiful creature this gryphon. Head and fore section of a lion, hindquarters and wings of an enormous eagle. His feathers had a tint of orange in their color, distinctive among the royal caste of the gryphon order. It folded its wings back and trotted its way into the glade to greet its consort.5

It looked at its rider of three months and saw on his hands the crimson stain of death. Looking beyond, it saw the corpse of the newly fallen gryphon, laying limp and lifeless with its head now swaying in the flow of the stream. This had been a companion of the gryphon's. It let a piercing cry shred the air around Azuroth, "RAAAAWWWCCCCC," and through that whole inhumanly long screech, it paid tribute to his friend, vowing silently that this man would die for his actions against Hyro Mep. Azuroth stumbled back shaken by the blast to his senses, both magical and audible.6

"Whats wrong, my pet?" Azuroth asked innocently.7

"RAWWWWWW," was the only answer returned to him. The noise deafened Azuroth for a second and was seen to bow the very trees back at their trunks. An eerie silence befell the wood. No creature stirred.8

"What are you doing?"9

The gryphon was through talking, this man he had consented to thus far, but no more, he had felt the thoughts of this man and they centered around death, and the unnatural reversal that he felt was possible. It raised its paws in the air issuing challenge at the meek boy standing before it.10

Azuroth got up from his knees and his mount was rearing in the air. He looked for his staff but could find it nowhere. Fool, he had left it beside the fallen gryphon on the ground.11

The man had gotten to his feet in acceptance of the challenge, with this the gryphon launched itself with all its might at this small man before it. It grabbed him with its talons, raked one paw down his rib cage and with the other he tore down a shoulder and across this helpless dolls chest, crimson flowed from almost all of the meat the gryphon held. Azuroths form fell to the ground and the gryphon was still on top of it. The gryphon tore at his face with fangs coated in liquid poison, fire burned in his skull and his cheeks where the fangs penetrated flesh and found bone, muscle, and tendon.12

The gryphon, its work done in this place, leapt straight up through the tree branches into the unfolding majesty of the heavens above. Left behind was a small mangled corpse. Blood flowing into the river, the taint of death mingling with the hint of life left within him. He was laying downriver of the older corpse, yet the blood in the stream past him was no more than it was before him, he drank deeply of the dead blood of the gryphon. Muttering incantations below his breath. "Muerte............Daios..................Amno TEP!" With this he lay still on the ground, breathing, though barely.13