Of Fate and Destiny

A lone figure walks the path others dare not. Dense forest obscures light and civilization alike whilst unseen evils, lurk within its shadows. Unaware the figure walks on, taking everything in its stride, eyes not once deviating from their focus of interest.
With a soft metallic rasp, a long, crude blade is released from its scabbard. A steady tattooed hand grips the dagger firmly and waits, patiently, for just the right moment of deliverance. Through the two strips of cloth that cover its face, two eyes pierce the moment, preparing for any eventuality that may arise from its actions.
Before the figure can react, the cold metal of the blade bites deep into its neck. A crimson shower of blood spurts forth, falling into a perfect arc at its feet. Collapsing, its hands claw at the air as they try desperately to prevent the deadly onslaught of Death’s clammy hands from reaping its mortal soul. Eventually, with a violent spastic fit, the body lies still. Lifeless, the battle for survival is lost.
Rubbing his hands with glee the thief begins stuffing his pockets with the ill-gotten gains from the carnage. Satisfied with the day’s turnouts, he proceeds to clean the still warm blood off the blade upon his sleeve and turns to walk away.
“Leaving so soon, are we?” A sinister voice calls out in a keenly interested tone.
Stopping in his tracks, the thief shudders in fear as something unknown overshadows his path of escape. A cold wind blows through the trees, adding yet further discomfort to the already nerving situation. Swallowing hard he turns around and reels back in horror to the sight that meets his eyes, making the very blood in his veins run cold with terror.
Two crimson eyes, set back in sunken sockets, on a face of moldy grey skin balefully stare back into his. Its face mere centimeters from its would-be assassin. “Don’t you know me boy?” it snarls, bearing a mouthful of needle sharp teeth. “What makes you think you can kill me?”
Feeling his chest tighten, like it were been crushed painfully from the inside and throat turn dry as sticks, he can only stammer in his response. His familiar role, his only role, taken in life was now dramatically reversed upon him, suddenly changing him from hunter to now becoming the hunted. He begins to sweat, his nerves frayed. Unsteady hands begin to shake and with an untimely twitch of a nerve, his weapon of choice regrettably falls to the ground with an eerie clunk, rendering him defenseless. “I was only…you know, only…”
“Enough!” Having grown impatient, not that it held much patience anyways; the creature reaches out and grabs the thief by his throat. With little effort it proceeds to lift him from the ground, showing clearly it possessed incredible strength, dangling him in front like an old rag doll. How it wished to play with him now was another matter entirely. It had every right not to play nice-nice after the thief’s earlier displays of friendliness. “You see this?” it snarls, pointing at the fresh wound across its neck. “Do you realise how annoying these things are? I mean they can get really irritating while they heal, not to mention the countless nights convincing flies and other vermin you are not their food.”
Choking for air, the thief tries to free himself. Struggling wildly like a freshly caught fish, he realises to his horror that this creature was not about to let him go. His latest crime ensuring that his absolution would never be forthcoming. With mind becoming hazy, he finds himself disturbingly egging the creature on, imploring through his eyes to make its judgment swiftly or he will surely choke to death first.
“Prepare to die, mortal!” It suddenly announces in a voice bearing little emotion. A smirk slowly spreads across its crooked lips, as if receiving pleasure from the notion of what it sadistically plans to execute.
Panic frames the mind of the thief. Although expecting his doom, he still is unprepared for what his final moment will bring. With pupils wide and alerted he opens his mouth to scream but only achieves a sickly gurgle as his own accumulated saliva, held in place by the creature’s grip, chokes his efforts. With unearthly strength the creature decapitates his head with a simple twist of his wrist. Grinning sadistically, it crushes the skull at its own pleasure and leaving the remainder of the corpse for the wolves, it continues on his way.

Of Fate and Destiny


Joined July 2010

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 4

Artist's Description

first introduction to main aggrevator in story. book one of a trilogy.

Artwork Comments

  • Alenka Co
  • Light-Rain
  • blueyesdragon
  • Pam Humbargar
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