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Seraph Hunters Beastiary Journal

October 19, 2006

Beastiary Journal
Written by: Ben Marroquin
SeraphHunters.com

There are many unknown demonic beasts of the supernatural that prey on the unwary in the dark of night, and even some that do so in the light of day. Up until now, a secret war has been waged against these evil beasts by the Seraph Hunters; humans that have beastly abilities that allow them to fight back and protect the innocent.

Still, I fear too many die because they are severely lacking a key ingredient to their survival: Knowledge. It’s for this reason that I have decided to create an online journal of the beasts that hunt in the night, in hopes that it may one day save your very life.

I pray you never need this knowledge, but will continuously add to it in case you do.

Anteral: This demonic beast has been worshipped in the past as some sort of pagan harvest god. This was due to both its abilities and physical characteristics. It has a gaunt pumpkin orange head with vertical lines and green vine hair. It can see well in the dark with its inky green eyes. Its plant-like body has been known to regenerate lost limbs like arms and legs. It is usually dressed in a trench coat to hide its inhuman appearance.

What truly makes this beast dangerous is the fact that it can control the roots of plants and summon demonic spirits to inhabit beasts made up entirely of crops, quickly putting the odds in its favor; but if you take out the Anteral, you take them all out. The two most effective weapons against these things are fire and decapitation.

Arachnid Reapers: If you see and recognize an Arachnid Reaper, then I fear it may already be too late. They are highly trained demonic humanoid assassins with unique abilities that come from either Spider, Scorpion, and Viper. Each can take human form, are immune to poisons, and are extremely dangerous.

The spider variety can weave spider webs, climb walls, lift small cars, have poisonous fangs that can paralyze a horse, and have been known to sprout up to eight piercing legs from their backs.

Scorpion reapers can also lift small cars and climb walls. When they change, black exoskeleton shells cover their bodies like armor and a long tail with a poisonous stinger that can kill a horse grows from their backside.

Viper reapers aren’t as strong as the other two variety, but they are extremely fast and dexterous. Not only do they have poisonous fangs, but they can also spit poison up to 10 yards away. The poison can cause hallucinations and a coma like sleep. When they change, they have been known to scent their prey in the dark with their forked tongues and crush a victim with their snake-like body.

Blood Sprites: These are owl sized beasts with evergreen wings that feed on blood. Patches of moss cover their bark skin, branching arms end in thorny claws, taloned tendrils dangle on the end of root like legs, and wine bead eyes glisten on their dark wooden faces. They use their splintered teeth to rip into their victims and lap their blood up with root like tongues. They travel in hordes and prefer to follow a leader. They are moderately dangerous in hordes, but alone are easy to defeat. They are afraid of fire because it can destroy them. If you have no fire, then I recommend chopping them to bits.

Bracnar: This is a massive demon beast that’s black as night. It has spiny quills on its head, demonesque face, draconic claws, a body of a wingless dragon, and four back legs that it can rear up on. It attacks with claws, fangs, and has been known to spit a tar-like substance at its victim, making them immobile. They are extremely dangerous and their weaknesses are currently unknown.

Ganglyrot: These green plant based demonic beasts have stringy hair and thorny claws that rip and rot flesh. They have the ability to call forth rot vine whips from the palms of their hands and implant seeds in its victims mouths, that grow into rot roots. He can then control the victim like a puppet from the inside. The only way to free these human puppets is by killing the Ganglyrot.

The problem is that once the Ganglyrot is killed its human puppets will soon become Ganglyrots by the parasitical rot roots; it’s the Ganglyrot that keeps the rot roots from transforming the human puppets, this way it can eat them freshly alive.

Severed limbs regenerate, unless you destroy too much of its body. They can also secrete a greenish milky substance over its body to protect it from fire. The best way to destroy a Ganglyrot is by decapitation, freezing ice, and magma-like liquids. It is also important to note that they have been known to travel with a horde of Blood Sprites.

Marics: These cute beasts look like some type of spider monkey. They are mischievous critters that love to eat small animals like dogs and cats. They are identifiable by the small horns that grow from their foreheads, the four arms that they swing from, and their sharp claws. They prefer to live in forests and large parks and hide from humans. They pose a very small threat, unless you have lots of pets.

Torag: This is a giant demonic creature that has often been confused with the minotaur throughout mankind’s history. The main differences between the two species is that Torags have sharp warthog-like tusks, a row of dark spikes along their spines, and (most importantly) have dangerous earth magic abilities. They have been known to cause small earthquakes, summon walls of stone, and hurtle boulders. These beasts, like a minotaur (which is in actuality a were bull), can lift large sized cars. They are brutishly dangerous and prefer to meet an opponent in honorable combat.

That is all for now. I recommend you visit often for I will do my best to update this journal as often as possible. Until then, I leave you with these final words that were spoken to me by my handler many years ago, “When in doubt as to how to kill some beast, decapitate it. You’ll be surprised at just how effective this tactic is.”

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Seraph Hunter: Book 1, Chapter 1 – Gift or Curse

October 19, 2006

Seraph Hunters:
Gift or Curse

Written by: Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

It crouches, hidden in the shadows of the bushes, unseen. Muscles taut, forest green eyes fixed on it’s prey which is searching the ground for its next meal. A tiny rustle catches the raven’s attention. Nervously, it looks around, takes a couple of hops and spears its head towards the ground. The raven lifts it head triumphantly with a leggy creature in its beak.

From the bushes a cat explodes into motion; a blur of black fur, claws and fangs, and it’s over for the raven.

From the backyard of a beige suburban house with burgundy trimming, a sliding glass door opens. A young raven haired girl emerges with laundry basket in hand. “Ashcot… Ashcot…” her voice calls out.

She looks around. No sign of the cat. It’s busy finishing its meal.

“Where’d you go?” she asks to no one in particular. She hears a faint thump-thump-thumping noise coming from the side of the house.

Placing the empty laundry basket on the porch ground, she walks towards the sound. “Ashcot… Ashcot…” she calls out. Still no answer.

She turns at the side of the house and quickly locates the source of the strange thumping sound: The weathered wooden fence door is open, the warm wind thumping it against the large rubber trash cans located on the front side of the house. She causally walks towards the fence door to close it and notices the long shifting shadows cast on the ground heralding in the evening.

I wonder what school will be like in this city. I hope it doesn’t su… no, no… think positive thoughts… “I so miss my friends,” she says with a soft sigh.

Clinkclinkclinckclink clankclank…clank… clank…CRASH!

The sudden flurries of sounds startles her, causing her to jump. What was that? It’s then that she notices that the side door leading to the garage is ajar. It’s only a few feet away from her.

She gulps, clenches her fists, and steadies herself as she edges near the darkened doorway. “Ashcot, is that you kitty?” her voice is tight with tension. She moves closer to the burgundy painted door, places one hand on the doorframe and the other on the doorknob. She gently pushes it further open, in hopes of allowing more light into the dim cluttered garage.

“Ashcot… Ashcot, are you in there you silly cat?” Her foot slips a little; her hands clench their holdings, keeping her up. She looks down on the freshly stained cement floor and sees a trail of blood leading into the garage.

Her eyes follow the blood trail while she fights the mounting urge to run. Please… Please, don’t let it be her, not mom… I can’t lose her too… she takes a deep breathe of air, washing away those dreaded thoughts and fears, slowing her rapidly beating heart.

Steady now, hands by her side clenching her flowery summer dress, she takes a few unsteady paces into the room. Eyes wide, she takes a sweeping peek inside. Her dark brown eyes stop on a form, dressed in a white type of outfit, huddled on the floor between torn bags of spilt aluminum cans and fallen bikes. The shadow figure groans, clutching its red drenched abdomen as a pool of blood grows on the ground.

Her eyes, adjusted to the dimness of the garage, take in the figure; Long strands of dark hair covers it’s… no… his face, but she can tell that he is not much older than her. From cracks in the hair “mask” she sees a pair of yellowish glowing eyes looking at her. She feels something furry brush her leg, startling her, making her jump again.

With pounding heart, she quickly looks down and notices that it’s only Ashcot. The stranger lifts his blood stained hand towards her, wanting her to get nearer, as if wanting to tell her something. No… I don’t think so she thinks to herself, but Ashcot has other ideas and approaches the stranger. She tries to stop him, but it’s too late.

As if in slow motion, she sees the stranger grab the cat in one hand around the neck and, thinking only of Ashcot’s safety, she lunges forward to pull him away, but is instead caught by the wrist by the stranger’s other hand.

Eyes wild, he whispers through clenched teeth “You must save them all… You must become one of us…”

It is then she notices that the blood tainted white outfit the stranger is wearing is really a straight jacket. Oh no, he must have escaped from the asylum! she thinks as towering waves of rolling panic pound into her.

Before she can react, the stranger bites the inside of his lip, making it bleed. He lifts Ashcot, scratching and clawing, and stares into the cat’s angry eyes. He utters some strange unknown words and the cat goes limp.

In horror, she sees his jaws open and stretch, contorting into some huge beastly fanged filled mouth! She hears herself scream out “NNNOOOO!!!” as his fanged mouth bites into Ashcot’s neck, mingling the cat’s blood with his own in his mouth.

He gently sets the limp cat aside and brings down the horrified little girl to him with both hands. She wants to scream, but fear clutches her voice. He looks up into the dark, as if seeing the velvety night sky and softly chants as blood drips from his lips.

His body begins to pulse with a soft bluish white glow which reaches into the depths of his eyes; looking into his eyes, she sees him reflected within, bright and shiny and corporeal. His ethereal self looks up into her through those pulsing eyes, wings spring forth from its spirit body and launches towards her. The angelic-like spirit shatters through his eyes and enter hers.

Sensing the moment, the stranger moves her head aside with his free hand, and with mouth filled with his and Ashcot’s blood (and unknowingly, the blood of the raven), bites down on her neck. His fangs sink softly into her flesh and pierces the jugular vein, injecting the mixture of blood in his mouth into her body as waves of bluish white energy envelope her.

She feels the burning liquid mixture injected within her course it’s way through her veins towards her heart, leaving a numbing trail of searing pain within. She gasps as the infectious liquid spears her heart and is rapidly pumped throughout her body. She seeks refuge from the pain in her mind but the infectious storm within rains down as her world begins to fade…

Gently laying her down on the ground, the strangers last fading whispers enter her; “I’m sorry… but I must do what I must… you will be reborn… you will be seraph hunter… beware the forsaken… save them all from… apocalypse…” She hears no more as her world is swallowed by the darkness of unconsciousness.

Dingy green hued walls of stone surround her, caging her in like some kind of wild beast. She is chained to a bolted down metal framed bed, able to raise her head enough to see that ominous black metal door which bars her way to freedom. A calliope of screams and wailing echo into her chamber, bombarding her with images of people losing their minds, of people in excruciating pain, of people being consumed or worse.

She hears the distant sound of scratchy footfalls making their way towards her. She knows that her body cannot take anymore of the cocktail of drugs and torture these forsaken beasts have been putting her through. She cannot, will not give them the information they want.

She hears keys jingling and sees the door rattling and closes her eyes, not wanting to see them again. They enter her room and unlock her chains. Large ragged hands with long tendril fingers grasp her arms, claws biting into her flesh as they yank her up. Her feet rasp the ground as they half walk, half drag her through maze-like corridors.

She hears a door open and is taken inside and strapped to a table. The door then closes. She opens her eyes and takes in her surroundings. She’s in what resembles a hospital surgery room; a room which has been turned into a torture chamber as instruments crafted to heal life are used as weapons of pain and, in the end, death. The red stained room reeks of it.

She hears the door open and sees him, the torturer. His ashen hued face is covered by a green surgical mask. He is tall, thin, leathery and stark with hair appearing to be long dark sharpened quills. He seems to glide as he moves across the room. His onyx eyes show no emotion as he moves a tray filled with surgical blades next to her table. With a flourish of hand gestures, he selects a long slender blade and holds it over her heaving chest. Her eyes widen in pain filled anticipation of what’s to come…

The blade plunges down… “AAAAIIIIIIGGGGHHHH!”

Jovi wakes, heart pounding, limbs shaking, stomach churning, and body soaked with sweat. Several minutes pass before she gets her bearings. She bolts upright suddenly as her memory comes flooding into her mind, making her world spin. The vertigo causes her to spin to her hands and knees and spew.

She shakily gets to her feet as her head begins to burn with heat and her body pulses with chills. Her pitch black world begins to swish left and right. Guided by memory, she wobbles her way to the garage door leading into the kitchen, opens it, and is momentarily blinded by light. Slowly but surely she makes her way to her room and stumbles onto bed. Her eyes close just as the front door opens…

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Bunikins, Blood Sprites, and Ganglyrot… Oh, My! – A Short Horror Story

October 19, 2006

Bunikins, Blood Sprites, and Ganglyrot… Oh, My!
Written by: Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

Dezrie Breanne Hernandez was walking down Henderson Street, her red curly hair dancing in the wind like a flame, pondering life. She would love to be out and about, doing what other high school seniors were doing on such a great autumn night, but she wasn’t like other teenagers. No, she had gifts, a calling, which led to great responsibilities; life and death responsibilities.

It was these very real responsibilities that had her out, patrolling the west side of Paradise city. She didn’t like patrolling this side of city, not because it was a blighted neighborhood or anything like that. Quite the contrary, it was a labyrinth of quaint neighborhoods filled with real mom and dad families and the beautiful Grace Falls Park was its heart. But it was a rather quiet area of the city.

Rarely did anything out of the usual occur here, giving her plenty of time to think about how different her life would be if she wasn’t gifted, if she wasn’t a seraph hunter. Come on girl, get your head in the game. Don’t dwell on what ifs she thought to herself as she watched the festive Hallows’ Eve decorations adorning many of the houses; glowing jack-o-lanterns, cobwebbed porches, stuffed scarecrows, paper black cats, ghostly doormats, and cackling witches.

This wasn’t the kind of night Dez had in mind. No, she loved being in the thick of the action that Serenity Cemetery or Coventon Docks or even downtown Mirth Plaza provided.

Her auburn trench coat flapped lightly in the wind as she spotted strange beams of light pointing to the sky coming from across the street, three houses down. Her pulse quickened as she heard the creaking of a wooden gate. Her body tensed as she spotted shadows coming forth. And her heart fell as the tension left her body when she heard them, a half dozen or so kids excitedly chatting about playing hide and seek in the park.

She watched, with a bit of envy, as the carefree group of tweens rounded the block and headed towards Grace Falls Park, just a few short blocks away, to play their night games.

Dez reached the intersection and looked down Forest Street, in the direction the kids had taken to the park. She heard rustling coming from the bushes near a fence leading to the back of a white house on her right. That can’t be the kids, they should be near the park by now she thought to herself.

She took a few tentative steps onto the lush front lawn of the house, moving towards the bushes. That’s when she saw one of them, a rather large cute rabbit. Its honey hued eyes softly glowed as they focused on her. She took a few more steps near it, when a dozen more glowing eyes appeared through the bushes.

She stopped a mere 10 yards away from them and stared at the one outside of the bushes. “Aren’t you an odd little fluffy brown bunny?” she said softly to herself. It lifted and turned its head to the side as it seemed study her in return. Its long dangly ears flopped onto the cool grass, the tips forked like a snake’s tongue.

Dez reached into the inside pocket of her trench coat, pulled out her cell phone, and clicked a picture of the strange bunny as it turned to its side. She noticed that it had small horns near its temples, four hind legs, and a row of ebony spikes protruded from the top of its head down the length of its spine. She took a couple of steps closer, to make sure she wasn’t imagining it.

Suddenly, the bushes exploded in a flurry of furry action as dozens of the autumn hued bunnies bounded over the six foot high wooden fence.

Dez rushed forward and jumped to the top of the fence, her trench coat billowing like a cape. She perched there and watched the creatures cross the lawn and bound over the far fence, into the backyard of the house from the back block. She hit the speed dial for her handler, Averus, as she jumped down and made her way to the back fence. She stood on a iron bench there and looked over the fence.

The fluffy critters were feasting in a vegetable garden.

“Are you okay?” Averus said with concern in his voice. He knew she was patrolling the west side, the quiet side of the city, so he figured something serious must be happening for Dez to call, and that worried him. Then again, he always felt fatherly worries when any of his hunters were out on patrol, but that was their calling. “What’s the danger? Do you need backup? I’ll send Ripshade and Hellbeast…”

“Whoa, slow down. It’s all good. No need to panic… I think.”

“Are you sure? What’s the situation?”

“Look, I’m trailing these weird fluffy looking bunnies and just wanted to know what I’m dealing with. I took a pic with my cell, hold on while I send it to you.”

Averus looked at the picture, the relief was evident in his voice, “It’s just a pack of Bunikins. They’re pesky little beasts that feed on plants and plant life. I don’t think Thorn would like them or gardeners for that matter. Still, they’ll only attack humans if they’re cornered and feel their life is in danger.”

“They’re cute, could I keep one as a pet?”

“Sure, they look cute now, but you won’t be thinking that when they change. Their fur falls out, replaced with tough leathery skin. Their forked ear tips grow barbs and front paws become long sinewy arms ending in clawed hands.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, kind of like a naked mole rat…”

“A what?”

“It’s a Disn…”

“Never mind. Besides, I’m not finished. Their bodies lengthen and twist upright as ripples of small muscular growth take shape. Their horns and the spikes on their backs lengthen and sharpen. Their maws become jackal-like with vicious rows of needle teeth. And though they may only stand about thigh high, with their four kangaroo like legs, they can jump well over a dozen feet in the air.”

“Oh… so they’d go all ‘gremlin-ly’ on us. Okay then, that’s a no on the pet front. Well… umm…. what do you what me to do with them?”

“Well, after they’re done eating, they should head back to the forest. Still, it would be best to relocate them, away from the city. I’ll send Ripshade over. With your help, he should be able to capture them in his shadow webs. Then we can load them into the van…”

“What van?”

“The one I’m going to…”

A chorus of broken screams pierced the night, seizing Dez’s attention. “Averus, I got to fly! There are screams coming from the park.” She flipped the phone close just as Averus was telling her to be careful and placed it back into her pocket. She willed the change to come as she jumped to the top of the fence.

Her skin became lined with diamond shapes as her bones and muscles thickened. Her clothes, enchanted by Averus’s rune magic, stretched to fit her new form. She used her new strength to spring high into the air, as draconic wings with bladed tips burst through the hidden slits of her trench coat. Powerful flaps carried her up into the night sky as her flesh hardened, transforming into maroon scales. Beautiful tattoo like patterns of gold flames emerged on her chest, forearms, lower legs, and wings as her face became golden-hued.

The Bunikins watched Spitfire, the draic fae seraph hunter, take flight, then resumed their feast once she was lost from sight.

Spitfire reached the nearby park within moments. Flecks of red filled her onyx eyes as she shifted her vision into the infrared spectrum. She spotted three red glowing child sized bodies running, flailing their hands frantically above them, as if swatting at something. They were heading away from the east side of the park; away from where the Grace River separated the park from the forest.

They emerged from the oak trees behind the children, dozens of owl sized winged creatures chasing their winded prey. They glowed softly red on a cool landscape of blues. Spitfire pumped her wings with urgency, picking up speed. Infrared vision was great for spotting living creatures, but it was severely lacking in the detail department so she shifted her eyesight back, in order to get a better view of the swarm: “Blood Sprites!” she said with a snarl.

She moved in to intercept them, hovering over the path of the fleeing children. That’s when the children saw her, they stopped dead in their tracks as their faces became paintings of fear. “What are you doing? Get moving,” Dezrie snapped at them, pointing towards the west. They just stood there, looking at her, dumbfounded by the fact that this fierce looking draconic beast just spoke to them.

Meanwhile, the swarm of Blood Sprites halted at the sight of this new arrival. They clacked to each other through their splintered teeth, hovering on their leaf like wings, trying to decide who should attack Spitfire first. Clearly, it was an honor they were willing to volunteer others for.

Spitfire looked down at the children once more and spoke, “I’m one of the good guys here to save you, so if you have any sense in your heads, you’ll do as I say and RUN that way, NOW!” Her words drove them into action. They made a run for safety.

The Blood Sprites, seeing their feast run away, found their courage and rushed forward.

Spitfire smiled as she eyed them: patches of moss covered their bark skin, branching arms ended in thorny claws, taloned tendrils dangled on the end of root like legs, and wine bead eyes glistened on their dark wooden faces.

“Barbeque anyone?” She said with a wicked smile as slits opened up on the palms of her draconian clawed hands. Her tail whipped side to side, swishing her trench coat, as she reveled in the blissful burning sensation that flowed through her veins and down her arms, seeking release.

She pointed her draic hands, palms open, at the horde and shot forth bursts of fireballs. The shower of fire struck three of the Blood Sprites. They screeched in pain as they fell towards the lush green grass below, consumed in a fiery death.

The Blood Sprites swarmed Spitfire, pulling hair, slashing trench coat, raking halter top and black jeans. Her clothes were taking a real beating, but her draic scales were protecting her from their angry assault. Two more Blood Sprites hurtled towards the ground in a blaze as the wind became scented with a mixture of smoked wood and musk.

The sight and sizzling smell of their fallen brethren struck fear into their hearts. The Blood Sprites made a hasty retreat towards the river.

Spitfire was about to give chase when one of the children cried out, “Please save them! The monsters… it got my brother and friends by the river. It stuck something in my brother’s mouth and he fell to the ground… and… please you have to help them.” Spitfire wanted to ask the teary eyed girl some questions, but knew time was of the essence; she headed towards the river.

She switched to the infrared spectrum in order to spot them quicker. The sounds of rushing water greeted her as she neared the bridge leading into the forest. She spotted four red softly glowing child sized bodies near the river’s bank, a mere five yards away from the bridge.

It slithered out from under the bridge, breaking through the darkness of the shadows on eight root like legs. Vines and black thorn spikes adorned its long thin muscled body. Sap hued eyes targeted Spitfire as its demonesque face broke open in a wide mouthed smile, displaying a row of slimy black thorn teeth.

Its long gangly arms ended in evergreen hands. It opened its tendril like fingers (which ended in black thorn claws) as vine whips emanated from its palms. It clenched the rot vine whips as the tips become flayed into three strips and were covered in thistles. The plant beast lashed out in a quick succession of strikes at an unsuspecting Spitfire.

Spitfire screeched out in pain as one of the whips lashed her right wing while the other one wrapped round her ankle. The scales, where the whip lashed her wing, began to lose their luster while the scales, wrapped under the vine of the whip on her ankle, not only lost its healthy shade of maroon and gold flame, but were becoming brittle.

She looked down, but couldn’t see her attacker, it was invisible to her infrared vision. Pain etched her face as she switched her vision back and recognized the plant demon at once; a Ganglyrot.

It started to pull her down, she reacted instinctively, by slicing through the vine with the bladed tip of her left wing, setting herself free. She began to fly evasively round the Ganglyrot as it spun round, tracking her with its eyes, making its way towards the fallen children. Spitfire hurtled three fireballs at the beast; it cackled in pain as a fireball struck its left shoulder, perfuming the air with the scent of steamed vegetables.

The Ganglyrot secreted a greenish milky substance which put out the flame on its shoulder and began healing it. Damn! It’s protected from my fireballs. Hmmm… let’s see if that milky stuff will protect it from my Liquid Fire Blast.

Spitfire tucked in her wings and dove at the Ganglyrot, swishing left, then right as it lashed out as her with its vine whips. She opened her palms and sprayed forth a reddish oily substance. The Ganglyrot lifted its arms, shielding its face as the liquid rained down on him. Spitfire opened her wings and pumped them hard as the Ganglyrot turned round and lashed out at her.

She screeched in pain as one of the whips found its mark and lashed her back. She could feel those scales lose their luster and strength as she spun round and shot forth two fireballs. They struck the Ganglyrot, setting the oily liquid ablaze. The sound of the crackling fire was drowned out by the piercing screams of the Ganglyrot as it flung itself on the ground, rolling.

The Blood Sprites swarmed out of the trees from the forest across the river as Spitfire dove down towards the Ganglyrot, intent on ending the fight. They caught her by surprise as they plummeted into her, protecting their master, and causing her to crash land on the ground as the Ganglyrot rolled into the river.

The Blood Sprites began raking at her wounded scales, causing her to yelp in pain as they pulled scales up and out, exposing the flesh beneath. She thrashed about viciously, sending many of the little beasts flying. She quickly got to her knees, then from a squatting position, jump her into the air and took flight as the Blood Sprites, emboldened by the scent and taste of her blood, followed.

She reached into her tattered coat, looking for her cell to call for back up, but only found a torn pocket. She spun round and shot forth a volley of fireballs at the hungry horde of Blood Sprites. The mass of winged beasts drifted apart, as several plummeted towards the ground in a blaze, allowing her to see the Ganglyrot striding towards the prone children. Oh no! I can’t let it eat those poor kids alive. She tucked her wings and moved in to intercept him.

The Ganglyrot spotted her and lifted its hands towards the children. Three of the children rose awkwardly to their feet and shambled over to surround the Ganglyrot in a protective circle. What in the… Spitfire didn’t get to finish her thought, she opened her wings to avoid flying into them, but it was too late.

The children lifted their hands up in the air as vines ripped through the flesh of the palms. Spitfire pumped her wings, altering her course over the children as their vines wrapped round her legs, arms, and waist causing her to slam into the ground.

Through blurry swaying vision, she saw the Ganglyrot approach her with a dark smile of victory. It cupped something in its hands, then forced it into her mouth; it was a seed.

The same type of seed that it forced into the mouth of the children, that went down into their throats, where it sprouted into a vine that ripped through the lining, leaving a sap like substance behind to close the tear. The vine then squirmed its way round organs, muscles, and flesh as it wrapped itself round bones. The Ganglyrot then controlled these vines like strings on a marionette, turning its victims into flesh puppets.

But that wasn’t the worst of it, it could then rip the flesh off of its victims to eat as the vines closed the wounds, ensuring that the victim would live and stay fresh for as long as possible. Unfortunately, the vines didn’t protect the victim from feeling pain or consciousness. And if the Ganglyrot was killed, the vines would then transform the remaining living victims into Ganglyrots.

Spitfire felt the seed enter her mouth. She struggled against the hold of the Ganglyrot and its puppets as the seed began making its way towards her throat. She lashed out at the Ganglyrot with her tail as the Blood Sprites began landing on the ground, forming a circle round her. She began to cough and choke as it entered her throat, the Ganglyrot clasped its hand over her mouth to keep her from spitting it out. She felt it wiggling in her throat as it began to sprout.

Her stomach rumbled as a phlegm like substance rose up into her throat, surrounding the seed, and spewed forth out her mouth, washing over the hand of the Ganglyrot. It moved its hand back in tremendous pain and shook it to and fro as the burning phlegm like substance withered the seed and its hand away.

The Blood Sprites flocked towards her as the flesh puppets began lashing her with their vine whips. Spitfire thrashed about wildly, her scales moist with rot and blood, as the cold realization of death began to wash over her. I should have called for backup. Now I’m going to be killed by a salad bar… I’m sorry sis…

Her vision began to darken as she saw shadows bounding towards her: “help me,” she softly rasped.

The Ganglyrot reached out towards her throat with its good hand as the Blood Sprites clacked in joy for the feast. Then they screamed in pain as a flood of bounding long eared furless beasts tore into them with gnashing teeth and raking claws.

The Bunikins began tearing into this moving ‘all you can eat’ buffet, ignoring Spitfire. Blood Sprites took flight, only to be brought crashing back down to earth, as Bunikins bounded up after them, keeping the fight on the ground. Spitfire got to her feet shakily and nearly laughed in hysteria as she took in the scene; a miniature war raged round her as Bunikin battled Blood Sprite.

She spotted the Ganglyrot making its way towards the old stone bridge and gave chase. She jumped over the flesh puppets and landed on the bridge with a thud. The Ganglyrot spun round to face her and gave silent commands to the flesh puppets; they lifted their whip wielding hands, ready to lash out, but Spitfire struck first. She jumped straight at the Ganglyrot, slashed its arm off with the bladed tip of her wing, and spit a glob of magma in its face.

The Ganglyrot thrashed to the floor of the stone bridge, its body quaked in death throes as its head withered away to ash. The flesh puppets, no longer controlled by the Ganglyrot, fell to the ground as the Bunikins bounded over the river, with their meals in tow, and disappeared into the forest. Spitfire looked down and turned the remains of the Ganglyrot to ash.

She limped to the edge of the bridge and stared at the flesh puppets that were children. What am I going to do with you three? she thought sadly to herself. She knew she couldn’t just leave them lying there on the ground. Now that the Ganglyrot was dead it was just a matter of time before they became Ganglyrots. She knew what she had to do, no matter how much it pained her, she knew.

She summoned the fires to burn through her veins, down her trembling arms, and opened her palms towards the children. “Spitfire! Spitfire!” they called as tears flowed down her golden hued cheeks. She lifted her hands up into the air and released a pair of signaling fireballs as she fell to her knees.

Her sister, Frostbite, found her first and rushed to her side. Ripshade and Thorn reached the draic fae sisters and noticed the children lying motionless on the ground. They looked at the badly injured Spitfire questioningly. She looked up at them through watery eyes, “They were attacked by a Ganglyrot and a horde of Blood Sprites. They’ve been implanted with Gangly Seeds and will soon become Ganglyrots… we must, you know, before they rise. There is another one by the bank of the river, but I think… dead from blood loss, damn Blood Sprites.”

“I can take them to the shadow realms…” Ripshade began to say.

“No, let me try something first,” Thorn said. Six powerful vine snakes, emanating from her back, surrounded her; guarding the druic fae seraph hunter. Her mahogany hair waved in the wind as she lifted her hands over the bodies of the children; her evergreen eyes began to softly pulse as her body tingled with nature’s energy.

She channeled the energy into the bodies of the children as their bodies began to quiver with internal movement. The vines unwrapped themselves from bones and ripped a hole in the flesh of their palms; they squirmed their way round organs, muscle, and flesh out of the bodies of the children where they were burned to ash by Spitfire.

Thorn then closed their wounds with a healing sap like substance and wrapped their hands in healing leafs. They walked over to the fourth child, by the bank of the river, but it was too late for this young girl. Thorn removed the vines from her body, ensuring that she wouldn’t change, and Spitfire turned them to ash. Thorn then tended Spitfire’s wounds as the sounds of sirens began to fill the park.

“We can’t save them all Dez, no matter how hard we try. Remember, without you, without all of us, there would be so much more pain and suffering and death… those three you just saved would be among them.” Ripshade said as the four seraph hunters left the scene unseen.

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Raising Havoc – A Short Horror Story

October 19, 2006

Raising Havoc
Written by: Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

He heard a chorus of screams resonating in the night. It seemed to come from several blocks away, somewhere round the shipyard. He took off at a sprint to investigate.

He rounded the corner when it came into sight; a man running frantically, out the open loading doors of an old warehouse. Two dark mucus hued beasts were giving chase on all fours. The tough leathery hide on their backs were adorned with long deadly quills. Scrather demons, they make pit bulls look like Chihuahuas.

The man screamed out in pain as they ripped into his legs with their fangs, dropping him to the ground. His fingernails tore out of their beddings as he clawed at the concrete ground, staining it with blood, trying with great futilely to keep the beasts from dragging him back into the darkness of the weathered warehouse.

Shae Wynstorm started to run towards them as they disappeared from sight. His strides grew longer as he began to change. Bones popped, lengthened, and thickened. Muscles rippled as they expanded. Skin changed to large scales, only to be covered by black velvety fur; swirling tattoo like patterns of gold accented his entire black furred body. A great golden mane grew and waved in the night as it bordered his ‘demonesque’ face. And his large dark horns glistened in the moonlight.

He reached the large open loading door and entered; his horns scraped the top of the doorway signaling his arrival. The creatures stirring within gaped with hungry eyes at the mammoth seraph hunter known as Hellbeast.

Flecks of gold danced within his onyx eyes as he looked around inside the large dark warehouse. He could hear the creatures shuffling about, chattering to each other. He could smell the metallic scent of blood and rot in the air, and taste its tang on his forked tongue. There is much death within he thought to himself as his massive muscles flexed in anticipation of battle.

He stalked into the warehouse as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He made his way through a labyrinthine jumble of stacked crates and storage containers; smashed objects littered the blood stained ground. He clenched his fists and jaw when he reached the large clearing in the center of the warehouse.

Whoever… whatever did this will pay with their lives! he thought to himself as he unconsciously let out a long low growl.

Standing before him was an exquisitely detailed 12 foot tall statue of a scaly demon with bat like wings. The mutilated bodies of many dock workers were strewn round it in some sort of ritual circle as their blood pooled towards the statue. The broken remains of a large wooden crate lay on the ground a short distance away.

He heard the creaking of metal coming from above and looked up. It was then he noticed them on the walkways, dozens of wine eyed Blood Sprites. They flapped their leaf like wings, clacked sharp claws, and chattered through splintered teeth. Their mahogany bark skin was covered with patches of moss. They were evil owl sized fairy like beasts made of plants that fed on blood. And they were bordering both sides of their demon master.

“What are you doing here demon? This feast is not for you.” The dark demon master said, gripping his demon bone staff with his right hand.

Hellbeast studied him for a moment before replying. He was dressed in dark leathers; boots, pants, and a trench coat etched with blood runes. His scarlet hued skin covered the well defined muscles of his stomach and chest like leather. There was a large amber stone embedded in the flesh of his chest, and two smaller ones embedded near his collarbone.

The stones seemed to pulse with magical energy as his four dark eyes studied the hulking form of Hellbeast.

Recognition came to Hellbeast as six large Scrather demon dogs and dozens of tall lanky ghouls surrounded him. They crouched on the concrete and stacked crates that bordered the clearing, awaiting their orders. He was dealing with a demonic necron summoner; a Necrelian.

“I know what you are Necrelian. I know what you plan. You actually think that you can capture a full fledge Havoc demon within one of your necron stones with this ragtag group of beasts you’ve gathered?”

The Necrelian cunningly smiled. “And now I know what you are, seraph hunter. I no longer have to worry if my beasts are strong enough to take down a Havoc demon. No, now I can just raise him and let the two of you tear one another apart. My beasts will then ensure that I, Necrax, am successful. And once I have a Havoc demon within my necron stone, I will become Lord Necrax.”

“Arrogant fool, lusting for power. All you will accomplish is your own death and that of the countless innocents it will kill if it flies off into the night. No, I won’t let that happen. I will stop you from raising havoc and make you pay for the murders you have committed.”

“Hahahahaha! Such bold proclamations for one about to become a meal for the masses. Well, that is if the Havoc demon doesn’t eat you first.” Necrax lifted his demon bone staff into the air and began chanting the ritual of raising.

Hellbeast remembered the demon lore that his handler Averus Stevens had made him learn. He knew Necrelians had the power to trap demons and the undead within their embedded necron stones. They could then summon mirror images of the trapped beasts to aid them in battle.

The only limits they had were: They could only trap one species per stone, so they were always looking for stronger demons and undead beings to trap, thereby increasing their power. And the more powerful the trapped beast, the less mirror images of it they could summon at any given time. He already knew which three species currently occupied the stones.

He looked at the Havoc statue and saw that the stone was starting to change, starting to become scales. He saw movement begin to take place near its wings. The demon will fly away into the night! I’ll be responsible for all the deaths it commits for not stopping it from escaping.

“NNNOOO!” Hellbeast roared out into the warehouse, leaping to the side and grabbing a startled Scrather demon by the throat. He hefted it into the air and threw it with all his might towards the demon statue. A loud crack echoed within the warehouse as the Scrather beast slammed into the statue’s wing. It whelped in pain as it fell in a bloody heap near the statue’s hoofed feet. Cracks appeared on the stone wing.

“What are you doing you big oaf, STOP THAT!” Necrax yelled as Hellbeast grabbed a ghoul this time and flung him towards the wing. The stone wing and ghoul both smashed to the ground. “Attack… kill him!”

The summoned beasts swarmed to Hellbeast to begin their attack. A Scrather demon leapt towards his head with gnashing fangs. Hellbeast stuck out his right arm, bending it at the elbow to shield his face from the beast‘s vice-like jaws. The Scrather’s jaws clamped down on his forearm. Its fangs drew very little blood due to his near impervious fur covered scales, but the pressure it was applying was painfully intense.

Hellbeast fought through the pain and concentrated on his right arm, causing a deadly row of spikes to protract from his wrists to his elbow. The bladed spikes ripped into the Scrather demon’s jaw and into its brain. He retracted the spikes and caught the dead Scrather, round the neck, with both hands.

Three ghouls came bounding towards him with slashing claws. Hellbeast hefted the dead Scrather and swung it at the ghouls like a giant club. THWACK! He connected with the ghouls, impaling two of them on the spiny quills of the Scrather demon and sending the other one crashing into a pile of wooden crates.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the Havoc demon coming to life and heard it roar out in pain from the loss of its wing. “Hahahahaha! You are too late hunter, Havoc has risen,” Necrax shouted out.

Hellbeast began spinning in a circle, using the Scrather’s dead body as a bat to keep the beasts at bay. He heard the flapping of wings coming near from above. “This isn’t over yet Necrax!” With that said, he launched the dead Scrather and impaled ghouls into the dark cloud of Blood Sprites, scattering them.

He then turned and charged towards the Havoc demon with dozens of ghouls, blood sprites, and 5 Scrather demons on his heels.

The Havoc demon glared at the charging Hellbeast as his muscles tensed for glorious battle. Hellbeast concentrated on his body, the gold tattoo like accents shimmered as his fur changed colors, blending with the environment just as he neared the battle ready Havoc demon.

Hellbeast disappeared from sight as his camouflage abilities activated. The Havoc demon, caught off guard by the act, grunted as something massive climbed over him and onto his shoulders. He felt a tremendous force push his shoulders down as Hellbeast launched himself into the air towards Necrax. Before he could recover, the Havoc demon found himself swarmed by summoned beasts.

Necrax heard a loud metallic rattle and felt the metal walkway violently shake as it announced Hellbeast’s unseen arrival, just a few feet away from him. The Havoc demon raged in battle below as Hellbeast’s body shimmered back into view. Necrax gasped out loud and took a step back.

“Send the demon back Necrax and I’ll make your death quick.”

“Tempting, but no deal,” Necrax said, stepping back. “Take one step closer and I’ll… I’ll summon forth a dark vortex to swallow you up!”

“Your bluffing Necrax. I know what you can and can’t do. I know your weaknesses,” Hellbeast growled as he stepped towards him. “And I’ve had enough of your company.”

Cornered and desperate, Necrax swung his staff at Hellbeast’s legs, hoping to knock him off. Hellbeast didn’t even bother moving, he simply glared at Necrax as his staff shattered into pieces across his thigh.

Hellbeast wrapped his massive left hand around Necrax’s head and lifted his flailing body into the air. He turned on the walkway to face the battling Havoc demon, holding Necrax over the railings. He pulled his right arm back, cocked and ready, then swung his fist.

CRACK! His hammer like fist pounded into the large necron stone with tremendous force, pulverizing it into glittering dust, sending Necrax’s broken body into the battle below.

Hellbeast ripped out the metal railing, wielding it like a spear. He launched himself straight at the Havoc demon as the summoned beasts around him began shattering like fallen mirrors, signaling the death of Necrax. A puzzled looked crossed the huge demon’s face as it looked around. It held its head up, and began to let out a victory roar.

Its victory roar turned to a pain filled wail as Hellbeast’s makeshift metal spear ripped through its chest and out its back. Blood spilled forth from his mouth as he stared at his punctured chest with disbelief. His scales should have protected him from such a puncture, but Hellbeast’s strength drove it through. He fell to his knees as he clenched the spear with both hands, beginning to remove it.

Hellbeast walked round the badly wounded Havoc demon and watched as it fell to its knees. He concentrated on his arm as the demon began to pull the bloodied spear out. A row of bladed spikes protruded from his right forearm as he grabbed the demon’s head with his left hand. He yanked the demon’s head back and swung his bladed arm, hard.

The Havoc demon’s headless body fell to the ground as Hellbeast tossed the severed head into a puddle of blood. He won, but looking round at all the dead innocents, he didn’t celebrate. He simply headed back out into the night, shifting to his human form as he quietly exited the weathered warehouse.

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Itsy Bitsy Racnids – A Short Horror Story

October 19, 2006

Itsy Bitsy Racnids
Written by: Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

Sierra Rayne Hernandez was late. She was suppose to check in by 10:00, but the science research paper she was working on caused her to lose track of time, big time. It was nearly midnight when she began to head out the public library, waving goodnight to Mrs. Wilson, the librarian.

The library used to close a lot earlier, back when Mrs. Wilson’s husband was alive, but ever since he was taken from her by cancer, she kept the library open for as long as high school students like Sierra needed; it was better to be surrounded by people and books, than to go back into the empty house Sierra guessed.

“Don’t forget your coat, dear. It’s cold out and you look to be dressed for spring. You do know it’s winter, don’t you? I wouldn’t you want to go catching your death now.” Mrs. Wilson said worriedly.

“Oh, it’s okay Mrs. Wilson.” Sierra said with a curious smile. She was standing in the open doorway as the brisk wind brushed strands of her pitch black hair into her face; long hair which was streaked midnight blue. She had on her blue pin striped shoulder strap top, black jeans, and sensible black leather boots. She usually wore her black and blue trench coat, but the cold air was just too inviting. Her skin was tanned like her fathers (it was her paternal twin sister that took after mom), her body well sculpted, and her azure hued eyes shone brightly as she finished her reply, “The cold doesn’t bother me at all, Mrs. Wilson. Not one little bit.”

In fact, I love the cold she thought to herself as the doors closed behind her. She made her way down the stone steps. Dezrie is probably worried sick about now she thought as she grabbed her cell phone and dialed her up.

“Hey sis, just wanted to let you know I’m on my way home. I’m about 5 blocks away, I’ll be there in about 15 minutes… 20 minutes tops, ‘kay. See you soon.”

She was halfway down Plaza Ave. when she heard a strange sound. The beautiful two story stone shops lining the streets were all closed; most of the lights from the people living above their shops were off and there was no sign of any parked cars. But still, she had very good hearing and knew she heard something.

“Hemmphhmmmeee”

There it is again she thought looking across the street. “It’s coming from somewhere within that alley,” she said to herself.

Sierra crossed the street, calling the cold to her, letting it sift into her pores. She stepped into the dark alley. She looked around, unable to make heads or tails as to the location of the noise. It was just too dark.

She concentrated the cold to flow into her eyes, making them glow azure as her eyesight shifted, painting the world in various shades of blue. The colder the object, the deeper the blue it appeared. She looked round once more, but the only reds in her vision belonged to the various rodents scuttling about in open trash cans.

“hhheelllppphhhmmeee”

That’s when she looked up. She saw four of them, strung and cocooned upside down across the two rooftops by a network of webs. Three of the wiggling forms shone bright red, but the fourth was limp and fading blue.

Then it hit her; she screamed out in pain and surprise as claws dug into the flesh of her shoulders, yanking her back hard, as poison laced fangs pierced her flesh. Her eyelids felt heavy and her muscles relaxed as the poison coursed its way through her body.

She saw a shadowy figure and fell into its spiky arms.

It carried her up the wall on its long spidery legs. Its pot belly, bloated with blood, made weird sloshing noises. Each of its hands had three long clawed fingers with small needle like holes in the tips. From these holes it spun its web round Sierra’s prone body. Its red flesh was covered by black exoskeleton shells; natural body armor. It looked as if someone had chopped a pot bellied humanoid creature in half and stuck eight spidery legs on its bottom.

Drool dripped down the Racnid’s jaws as it stared at its feasts through yellowish compound eyes. “Yyyeeessss, I have chosen good spot for nest, I have.” It chattered as it hung upside down from its web, busily cocooning Sierra.

The Racnid’s cocoon was up to Sierra’s neck when it noticed something odd occurring to its victim. Strange diamond shaped patterns began to appear on Sierra’s exposed flesh as it began to darken in hue. The flesh hardened, transforming into dark blue scales as her face became silvery. Her muscles rippled with growth as the cocoon began to rip and tear.

The Racnid stared in shock as Sierra’s dragon-like wings ripped their way to freedom, their tips were razor sharp blades. Silvery tattoo like lines danced around her wings and body, pulsing with life as her blazing blue eyes popped open.

Instinct took over as her wings slashed the webbing out from under the Racnid’s feet, sending it towards the concrete ground below. The Racnid flipped with arms out wide sending strands of webs to the walls, stopping its descent a mere foot above the ground as Sierra’s wings cut free the webbing hanging her upside down.

Powerful flaps sent her into the night sky as her dragon clawed hands ripped her body free of the cocoon.

The Racnid glared at her as he ascended the walls, watching her beautiful draic fae form shimmering in the night sky. Her heart told her to save the living, her body tingled with the urge to battle, but her mind cautioned against rash action.

“Frack! I can’t leave them to die.” She said to herself. She looked down at the Racnid ascending the wall and raged out, “I am Frostbite! Seraph hunter and you will pay for what you have done, you foul fracking beast!” The words spilled out, guiding her course of action.

She released a loud piercing shriek into the night, diving into battle. The Racnid saw her shooting towards it as it climbed over the lip of the rooftop. It leapt across the alley, to the rooftop on the other side, avoiding Sierra’s slashing claws and whipping tail.

It turned to face her as she hovered over the rooftop across the alley. She raised her hands and pointed them, palms open, at the Racnid. She grunted as slits ripped open across her palms, sending a barrage of dagger-like icicles into the Racnid’s body.

A flurry of “KKRRSSSSHHH’s” filled the air as the icicles struck the Racnid’s exoskeleton shells, shattering like waves of broken glass. They struck with such violent force that it sent the vile beast back a couple of yards.

The Racnid immediately recovered from the concussive blows. It quickly scuttled across the rooftop and leapt into the air towards her. Her wings sent her skyward as it raised its hands; webs shot forth binding her legs, whipping her round.

She dipped her right wing, its razor tip slicing the web strands, releasing her as the Racnid landed on the rooftop. Sierra sent another volley of ice daggers, aiming at its head. The Racnid raised its arms, shielding its head as the ice blades shattered to the ground. “Damn its bracking shells! It must have a weakness.” Sierra said to herself, looking it over.

The Racnid crouched down, raised its hands and sent thick flowing webs hurtling towards her wings. Sierra lifted her left arm, shielding her wing. Thick strands struck her arm with wet plopping sounds, splashing and wrapping round her forearm, then thickening and solidifying into webs; it felt as if someone struck her with some type of glue gun.

The Racnid then exploded into the air from its crouched position. It quickly hurtled towards her, using its hands to climb up the web straight towards her.

Sierra shrieked out in surprise and sent ice blades towards the beast. It cackled as they shattered on its shell, not slowing its pace. Her heart thumped as panic began to enter her mind. It was coming straight towards her through the air.

Then a cool calm washed over her as an idea came to mind.

Hand over hand, it climbed to her, its mouth chattering in anticipation of ripping her throat out. It was nearly upon her when Sierra sprung her trap; she dipped her left shoulder and arm catching the Racnid off guard, causing it to clench the web tightly with both hands to keep from falling off, momentarily stopping its ascent. Sierra then sent her powerful wing in a round down and up arc.

Her razor tipped wing sliced through the exposed flesh and bone of the Racnid’s elbow joints, severing its arms in half as her tail whipped, sending the Racnid plummeting to the ground. A resounding CRACK filled the night as it crashed into the concrete below; closely followed by the clattering of two severed arms.

She flew down to the ground and approached the broken body of the Racnid. It was lying in a growing pool of brackish blood. She looked up at the 4 cocooned forms, focusing on the small limp blue form that she had been too late to save. She concentrated the cold to flow through her arm as a long sword of ice took shape in her hand. A tear ran down her cheek before falling towards the ground, turning to ice.

She raised the ice sword with both hands above her head, “Fracking Racnids, may you all rot in hell!” The ice sword whistled through the brisk wind, landing with tremendous force, severing head from body, forever ending the threat of this Racnid.

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Seraph Hunters Journal

October 19, 2006

Seraph Hunters Journal
Written by: Ben Marroquin
SeraphHunters.com

I’ve spent the last few years on a mission for my dark master: searching, identifying, and chronicaling the activities of Seraph Hunters. I’ve spent many cold nights in the shadows, watching and writing about their deeds, learning much about them. It is my hope that my dark master will recognize my hard work and bless me with the gift and make me one of them. The following is what I have learned to date.

List of known Seraph Hunters:

1) Averus Stevens: He is a 35 year old male whose wife was killed by an assassin over a decade ago. To the public he is a detective/bounty hunter/dojo owner. To his young group of Seraph Hunters, he is their trainer/mentor/provider. His seraph hunter abilities reside in rune magic and weapons crafting; he has crafted and magically imbued swords, knives, maces, axes, and the such with runes. It seems that he has appointed Braydon Warrickson, the Seraph Hunter known as Pulse, as leader of his charge of Seraph Hunters. He is also the godfather and legal guardian of Daemon Blackwell, one of the Seraph Hunters known as Ripshade. It seems that he was named Daemon by his mother and that his parents were both killed on the same night.

Anyways, Averus is quite an imposing man with an athletic build and standing a few inches above 6 feet. His coal black hair reaches his shoulders, he sports a well trimmed goatee, and his deep brown eyes seem to hold much knowledge. He appears to be of European decent, but I can’t be certain if this is so. He does dress quite fashionably with dark slacks, light button shirts, and a trench coat that you can bet hides many of his tools of the trade. Be warned, even though he appears to be nothing more than a mere human, he is extremely cunning and dangerous. He is a master at hand to hand combat, using blades, and an expert marksman with a gun.

2) Jovianna Lynette Wynters: It appears that the subject goes by the shortened name of Jovi. I have learned that she was transformed into a seraph hunter through bite, although it is unknown as to who bit her. She is currently a freshmen attending Paradise High. She lives with her mother and is new to the city, although you can be sure that the Order of the Seraphs will soon place her mother in their relocation program, so if you plan on using her to get to Jovi then you should do so soon.

I have looked into her past, which was no easy task, and discovered that her father was a cop in New York; he was butchered one night by a hit man. The hit appears to be the work of a being who goes by the name of Macabre; it believes that killing is art.

Her human form is quite attractive with wavy raven black hair, tanned skin, an athleticly developed build, and blue-gray eyes like that of storm clouds. Yes, she is quite a head turner in her human form, but in her Seraph Hunter form she can rip that head right off of your shoulders.

I believe that Jovi is a rare and deadly Myth Lycan with the ability to turn into several deadly forms: the forms known to date are that of a stealthy werepanther and that of a midnight blue winged werepanther. I have no doubt that one day she will be able to transform into some huge dark griffen-like beast. What other abilities that are likely to appear in her future are unknown. It is best to remove her now, before she comes into power, or she will become a powerful adversary.

Seraph Hunter Codename: Darkclaw

3) Bree Aiken: It seems that Bree is a seraph hunter through heredity, it is the only explanation as to her abilities. It appears that her parents died in a car crash involving a drunken driver, two years ago when she was in 7th grade. She was sent to Paradise city by social services and is currently on her 3rd set of foster parents. Her current foster parents are quite the deviants with their swingers parties.

She is currently a freshmen at Paradise High. She is recognizable by her long healthy mahagony hair, light hued skin, and stunning evergreen eyes. She is physically fit and appears stands a few inches short of 6 feet. Her fashion sense seems to be inspired by a show based on the 70’s.

It appears that Bree is a rare type of druic fae in that she is a summoner. She currently has up to six powerful vine snakes that sprout forth from her back; each vine snake is capable of individual thought and action, can spit out globs of amber hued sap, and are likely to develop further abilities. In addition, Bree can transform her skin to bark, has plant like abilities, can shoot ironwood thorns from her palms, is immune to poison, has an intense hatred of the undead, and can release seeds into the ground that transform into strange and deadly plant based beasts that fight to protect her. I have even witnessed her using her gifts to heal the wounds of others. There is no doubt that her abilities will continue to grow and expand.

Seraph Hunter Codename: Thorn

4) Dezrie Breanne Hernandez: Dez is a seraph hunter through heredity. Her parents and little brother are currently in hiding through the Order of the Seraph relocation program. These drastic measures were taken in response to the kidnapping of her paternal twin sister, Sierra Rayne Hernandez. Obviously, some dark being or organization has discovered her nature, probably through the use of a Tracker.

She was held back in eighth grade due to the stress of the crisis of losing her beloved twin sister, the relocation of her family, and her discovery of her seraph hunter abilities. Abilities she learned from her father that were passed on to her by her long dead grandfather. She is currently a freshmen at Paradise High and one of the Trios. They spend their nights patrolling the streets and looking for clues as to what happened to Sierra. She still doesn’t understand why they kidnapped Sierra instead of her, since she is the hunter. No ransom or clues has come to light.

Dezrie is quite the looker with an attitude. She takes after her Irish mother with red curly hair, milky white skin, and fierce amber eyes. Her body is toned, no doubt from the countless hours spent in training, and she is quite willful.

Dezrie is a draic fae seraph hunter, distantly related to the small fairy race. When she transforms into her seraph hunter form she appears as a deep maroon draconic-like fairy with golden tattoo like designs of flames appearing on her forearms, lower legs, chest, and wings. Her face takes on a golden hue and her long curly her resembles a burning flame. Her body becomes protected by armor like scales. She also grows a long whipping tail, razor tipped wings, dragon claw feet and hands. From the palms of her hands she is able to release fireballs and has been shone to actually control fire. There has also been unsubstantiated reports of her being able to spew forth streams of flame from her mouth and globs of a burning magma-like substance. Her future abilities are unknown. What is known is that she offers a fiery death to her foes.

Seraph Hunter Codename: Spitfire

5) Daemon Blackwell: Daemon is a seraph hunter through heredity. His father was a powerful Spiritmancer seraph hunter and his mother was an Arachnid Reaper. He is rather exotic looking and has an athletic build. It appears quite a few people think he looks like a young Brandon Lee of the Crow, I can see the resemblance. He is currently under the care of his godfather turned guardian, Averus Stevens; who is also his handler. From what we have gathered his powers seem to be a combination of Shadowmancery and Arachnid Reaper.

We have witnessed him use the shadows as some sort of shroud, concealing him from enemies. He has also used the shadows as some sort of onyx like exoskeleton and created weapons (claws and swords) from shadow webbing. We have seen him wrap enemies in sticky liquid-like shadow webs, that he seems to be able to harden at will. He has even used these inky shadow webs as a flesh piercing weapon by shaping and hardening the tips into spear tipped hooks that rip through the flesh of enemies; they then wrap around the pierced area of the body like a stronger than steel shadow web tether. Quite impressive, I have no doubt that his powers will continue to grow.

Seraph Hunter Codename: Ripshade

6) Braydon Warrickson: Subject currently under surveillance. Report soon to come.

Seraph Hunter Codename: Pulse

7) Sierra Rayne Hernandez: Subject currently under surveillance. Report soon to come.

Seraph Hunter Codename: Frostbite

8) Shae Wynstorm: Subject currently under surveillance. Report soon to come.

Seraph Hunter Codename: Hellbeast

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Article: What and Who Are the Seraph Hunters?

October 19, 2006

What and Who Are the Seraph Hunters?
Written by: Ben Marroquin
StoryMask.com

“It’s because of free will that our world became tainted. Those seeking power and wealth and ‘everlife’ beyond the mortal opened the Abaddon. Releasing daemon beasts to prey on mankind; to mutate and birth the creatures of lore, the supernatural and mythological. If not for the Knights of the Seraphs and 3 priests of the order, the world would have plunged into darkness eternal.” ~ Quote from the book I’m working on.

It was the priests of the seraph order who called down the Seraphim from the heavens, while the knights battled the mad followers of the Cult of the Abaddon. While they were able to close and send back the hellpit beast known as Abbadon, the damage had already been done.

Countless daemons from the hell plane of Ashnur had escaped into our realm; leaving death, destruction, and worse in their wake. All of the Knights of the Seraph were bled and infected by these daemons before they scurried away into the night. But they soon discovered that our world was not made for their kind. The only way for them to survive long was to find hosts they could blend with; mutating hosts into strange beastly forms.

So they scattered into the four corners of the globe; some blending with animals, some with plants, some with insects, some with humans, and some with a combination of the four.

Thus, were born the beasts of supernatural and mythological lore.

Many creatures were unique and evil in their own way; some feasting on human flesh, some feasting on emotions, some with very wicked senses of humor, some just seeking power. Eventually, some formed races like lycanthropes, racnids, krendils, undead beasts, and many more.

Most of these daemon bred beasts are able to disguise themselves in human forms or hide in the shadows of the night or in places and planes humans rarely travel.

The Seraphim took pity upon the inflicted and dying Knight of the Seraphs by offering them a choice: to free them from their earthly forms and fly them to the heavens, allowing mankind to deal with the beasts that man had turned loose upon it or to turn them into hunters through their divine blood, ensuring their Free Will, so that they might balance the odds.

For it is Free Will that truly differentiates seraph hunters from the daemon made beasts.

There are several ways to become a beast of the supernatural. Some are born into such a life through the blood of one of their parents. And some beasts are able to transform a human by infecting them; some with their bites as lycans do, some through bonding rituals, and so on.

Vampires do so in a whole other way, actually draining their victims of blood until they are dead. They then bring them back to life by pumping their own blood into their victim’s corpse; usually by piercing their jugular vein with their fangs. Fangs which have small needle like holes allowing them to inject their blood into those they feel are worthy of becoming a vampire.

The victim’s soul still has a choice though: it can decline to re-enter it’s new undead body and head into the afterlife (as it’s soulless body becomes an undead soulless creature under the vampires control) or it can return to it’s body and accept the blending of it’s soul with the daemon blood and become tainted; thus damning their souls to an eternal flaming afterlife, which is why vampires greatly fear death and hang onto their immortality for as long as possible.

It’s the vampire’s blood that allows it to become an immortal predator of the night. Blood which heightens the senses, provides supernatural strength, transforms elder vampires into bat winged beasts, as well as other supernatural effects (some of which are unique to individual vampires).

But the blood also makes them deathly allergic to sunlight, garlic, and holy water. And their undead nature makes them abominations and an affront to nature, which is why wooden stakes through the heart is such an effective means of dusting such vile parasitical creatures.

Meanwhile, those that are bitten and infected by lycans have a choice as well: they can choose to become a beast of the prey, willingly blending their souls with the lycan’s beastly spirit, becoming tainted savage beasts (which still doesn‘t ensure their bodies will survive the transformation since over 66% of the bitten die anyways). Or they can fight the blending and pray they survive till the virus runs it’s course 48 hours later.

What are Seraph Hunters

They are humans who become Seraph Hunters through heredity or through bite; like Jovianna “Jovi” Lynette Wynters (aka Darkclaw). She was bitten by a seraph hunter. He performed the Ritual of Ascension; it is the ultimate ritual because it calls for the seraph hunter to give his life in order to ensure the survival of the bitten.

Seraph Hunters are both gifted and cursed: They are gifted with supernatural abilities that many would give their lives to possess. They are cursed for they spend their lives in constant danger; battling beasts, assassins, dark lords, and protecting the world from apocalypses.

Those lucky or strong enough (most likely both) to survive till old age do so with many emotional and physical scars.

Most Seraph Hunters can transform from human form to hunter form. There are as many different types and races of hunters as there are as many different types of supernatural beasts; it’s just that the supernatural beasts greatly outnumber the seraph hunters because they don’t worry about the great number of humans that die when they attempt to turn them.

There are also rare Seraph Hunters that have only human forms. These hunters are usually gifted with different abilities, ranging from powers of the mind to the magical. 1 in 10,000 are born destined to become a seraph hunter.

Young Seraph Hunters are usually gathered into groups by an elder hunter who becomes their Handler. It is the handler’s job to unite, train, and support their cell of Seraph Hunters.