DJORN - Jewel of the Undead

There did live a growing force of vampiric tribes during the end of Molestriah’s days. These creatures, once a branch of cannibalistic humanoids, mated with humans to make what eventually became known as vampires. These monsters, uncivilized, adapted to modern society and became the most democratic of all the hellish races. Nobles, kings, dukes, conquistadors, it didn’t matter. Vampires, for the better half of a century, tried to take dominance over the world as mankind reached near-extinction. This was the Thirteenth Age, and the time of the undead. The forces of these demonic populations were eventually challenged by angels, as the gods of all beliefs had turned their backs on the world, some leaving to peruse new planes. At this point, with what few angels were left after the decimation of the vampire, race, humans were left to fend for themselves in the aftermath.

Djorn stood on plated stone, his two silver rapiers drawn at his sides. On the other end of a large, cold corridor, with a ceiling two stories high, walls ten feet apart and a length of a half a mile going forward, the vampire, Nogah, stood beneath a large circular windowpane. Staring down at the corsair from the balcony of a staircase that lined the upper hall, Nogah scoffed, insulted by Djorn’s intrusion of his sanctum.

Windows on the left wall, above the balcony, shined in moonlight and the reflections of the mist that filled the outside air. Nogah raised his right hand and snapped his fingers, informing the young corsair of his imminent demise. As the vampire did this, the ground and plated concrete floor of the hall began to move up an down, like the fluctuating bouncing of puzzle pieces, beneath Djorn’s feet.

The hunter had come expecting tricks, voodoo-magic and curses designed to be countered by holy will. Never did Djorn think that the vampire lord would have mythical manipulation over the elements of his lair. The corsair jumped and dodged as the pillars of ground, which came up and vanished beneath those around them, threatened to trip and paralyze Djorn with heavy blows to his torso.

A lantern, which Djorn held on his belt, began to dim as the scent of death was upon the hall. Nogah stood laughing as the hunter attempted to gain his footing. The vampire, who wore a black and red cape, played with a golden medallion around his neck which held, at its center, a red ruby that gleamed under the colorful light of the moon that shined in from the window.

Djorn’s eyes were fixed upon as the corsair as he brought his arms in, standing in the center of the rising and falling ground that reached over his head. When the plate that Djorn stood upon was thrust skyward, the hunter jumped for the balcony and revealed a single-shot crossbow from beneath the wave of his black, leathery coat.

While traveling through the air, Djorn released a single bow from the contraption as he came to the height of the balcony where Nogah stood. With one firing the bow made its way toward the vampire who held his hand out to catch it through the palm of his white paw. Nogah did not fear, for he knew no normal blade or hunk of wood could escape his grasp and pierce his heart. However, as Djorn hit the ground, the plates of the floor had ceased their waving motion and settled back into place. Djorn fell on his back with a great thud and curled up in a quick fleeting rush of pain. As the corsair came to his feet, he backed up to see his arrow, which was made of silver, had burned through Nogah’s white, undead palm and embedded itself within the center of the vampire’s chest.

Nogah cried out, realizing the arrow was headed with holy silver. The vampire cursed the hunter as he jumped from his balcony, down to the hall’s rested ground, and drew a darkened broadsword to take up against Djorn. The hunter retrieved his discarded rapiers, which had escaped his grasp during his leap, and rushed at the oncoming vampire.

Djorn met the vampire’s blade wth speed unmatched by even the supernatural undead, slicing open Nogah’s left leg and landing another slash across his right arm. The vampire fell, his flesh burning at the touch of Djorn’s silver. With a final thrust Djorn stepped back, driving his arm forward and piercing Nogah’s heart with the rapier in his right hand.

The blade pushed past the arrow which still festered at the core of Nogah’s chest. Djorn retrieved the bow, broke off the tip and pocketed the silver piece. After removing the golden ruby amulet from the neck of Nogah, Djorn pushed back the kneeling vampire, who was still barley alive, pouring a canteen, covered in grey cloth and tied with string, of ethanol over his body and setting the creature ablaze with a small match.

As Nogah melted into a pile of groaning ashes, Djorn studied the jewel before placing the medallion around his neck and making for the exit, back where he had come from. Passing through the door to the far back of the hall, Djorn found himself outside a small fort situated on the top of a hill, surrounded by graveyards.

The full moon was still high and the sounds of wolves in the distance lifted into the air as Djorn hopped atop his black horse, taking off into the blackened woods and pondering about what other horrors awaited him past the approaching midnight smog.