|Sep. 26th, 2005 08:03 pm Xiaolin Showdown fanfic (part 2)|
Okies, here's part two of me fanfic.4 comments - Leave a comment
The rogue dragon tore its way through the village, spewing searing flames at the frightened people. It screeched in pain as a carefully placed arrow found its way into the side of its black belly. It roared and turned wildly, its enraged eyes like that of a maddened bull, blocking subsequent arrows. It was wingless but on all fours; it stood up onto its hind legs and pulled out the arrow.
But the warrior was not just trained in archery. He lunged skilfully at the beast and struck straight and true with his steel blade, plunging it deep into the creature’s heart. The black dragon screeched and fell onto its back, its eyes rolling backwards as it fell to the ground.
The villagers erupted with elated cheers, but the warrior hesitated, waiting to see if the dragon was truly dead. Experience with the Sabeeny spirit had taught him that appearances were very often deceiving. For all of five minutes he waited, before he moved to retrieve his sword from the belly of the beast.
Without warning, the dragon reached around with its long serpentine neck and bit the warrior’s ankle, sinking its teeth straight into flesh.
The dragon curled its neck back and rasped out: “You ... may ... have ... killed me ... but ... the curse ... lives ... on ...” It let out one final pained gasp and collapsed in death.
He felt woozy, and began to sweat. He bent down, putting a hand on the bite marks. The wounds were filled with green, liquid ooze.
His left leg failed him, and the villagers yelled out once more as his body rocked with violent spasms. His back curved and arced as he felt a prickling sensation all over his body. The villagers screamed; some ran away.
The odd feeling soon stopped, and he shook his head. Suddenly he felt much better, as if nothing had happened at all. He rose to his feet, and there were several shocked gasps from the remaining villagers.
He blinked in confusion. He couldn’t understand why the people were staring at him with such horror and revulsion. But one elderly man pointed at him, and then at a nearby stream. He frowned, but then realised the man was, in his own way, telling him to look in the stream. He bent down on all fours, vaguely noticing that there was something different about his posture; the size of his surroundings seemed a little different. He looked down in the water, and jumped back as he saw a long, elongated crocodilian head. He edged forwards, and hopelessness crept in as he realised the odd reptile’s head was making the exact same movements as his own head.
He brought his hands up towards his face. They were curved, clawed, and scaly. He looked back sorrowfully at his own reflection. His eyes were yellow and cold, and he had sharp jagged spikes on his back. He was hideous! No wonder the people had fled. Full of shame and despair, he turned around and retreated into the forest.
He staggered around in a state of horrified disbelief. Surely this couldn’t be – he’d been destined to be the greatest warrior since the great grandmaster Dragon, Dashi. After many long hours, he managed to return to the temple, and his master filled his heart with hope. He did not run away in fear, like the other people had, but immediately believed his tale and embraced him as if nothing had happened.
He told him: “Beauty is only skin deep. Your outer appearance may be vile and repulsive to those who don’t know you, but your true strength lies deep within – your heart.”
His old master continued to train him and he soon became accustomed to fighting in his new form. All seemed well, and his master was impressed with the dignified way he accepted his new appearance. However, his happiness was only an outer mask, for underneath his reptile skin, he was filled with the human weakness of emotions. He had never felt more alone in his life.
And one day ...
He left. He couldn’t take it any more. Every time he saw his shadow, he shuddered. Every time he ate, he slept, he spoke, he was reminded of his hideous figure. He hated himself. He hated the curved spines protruding from his back. He hated his clawed hands and his long tail that trailed behind him ...
So he ran away. Ran away into the cold cruel mountains, ran away until he could run no further. He’d curled up into a pathetic ball in a miserable, cold cave, exhausted, frightened and all alone. He was weak, he knew, for running, but he could no longer endure the loneliness he felt every waking moment, nor could he go through the nightmarish recollections of the dragon delivering the curse that he experienced every night. He just wanted to die ...
And then the Demon Lord approached him. Offered a way to take away the pain. Offered a way to return his youthful looks. Offered him a way to live out his life the way he’d always dreamed.
All that he needed to give in return was his soul ...
To be continued
This story doesn't have a happy ending. Just to warn people in advance ...