Saturday, February 23, 2013

Ravens, Pt. Three

Tossing his mace to Steven, David hefted his copper-tinged spear I his hands, sweat glistening on his brow despite the chill in the air. Steven, a burly lad with a clean shaven head and a beard down to his mid chest, clenched his fist around the hefty mace with an iron grip, his other hand wielding an equally hefty oak cudgel. Heinrich had no doubt that between the two of them, they would work fine. He was merely worried about being overwhelmed by the Crawlers.
Peeking over the counter, he could just make them out in the dim lighting of the old pharmacy. A total of five clamored above the shelves, moving like spiders on stolen limbs stitched to grey swollen bodies. The heads, hanging limply from the shoulders, were split down the middle and bald, opening and closing in a demented parody of a mouth as tendrils of sewed tongues slithered out, black ichor dripping from the pale pink extremities. Moving on four or five arms a piece, this left each of them with four arms held high in the air, rusty knives and trowels held in dirtied hands, with an array of other sharpened bits of metal jammed into the back of the creature, easily within reach of the arms should they have need of them.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Ravens Pt. Two

It was an all too common problem that Heinrich and other raiders faced; finding survivors tucked away in some remote store or home. Most of the time they were half-starved and crazed, but sometimes they could be reasoned with, brought back to the village to rejoin humanity. The rest of the time they were the occultists that paid homage to dark gods and spirits, relying on their arcane abilities to carve out a niche for themselves in this new, horrifying world. Heinrich’s sickles were each coated with silver, hammered onto the curved blades over the cold iron they were cast from.
The perfect weapon against anything supernatural.