Title: Shadow Hunter
Rating: NC17
Characters: Maul
Category: Unknown – violence, het-smut?
Feedback: Yes please! (TELOXI@HOTMAIL.COM)
Disclaimer: I don't own em, I just borrow em for my
fics. I received no money in its creation.
Summary: Dark and dangerous medieval Europe, the
Destroyer of Worlds is lost in a world where only the strongest and most
ruthless survive.
*Note: The intro/story is killer to read when
listening to Pink Floyd's song Dogs of War on the Momentary Lapse of Reason CD*
Part III
He waits for
the group to pass and when they are a sufficient distance away, he slips from
out the forest onto the well-used dirt road that lead north. In a split
decision, he turns and begins to follow the road, taking caution not to be seen
if he happens upon more travelers.
The strange
songs of numerous birds fill the air, flying from tree to tree upon feathered
wings, with wings of numerous colors and sizes. Nature is abundant on this
planet - far more than the planet he had set out from. There, the only nature
of that planet can be seen in museums and live exhibits. The planet is covered
entirely by durasteel and duraplast and other manufactured substances, and is
inhabited by more than a trillion beings from all corners of the known galaxy.
An altogether overcrowded planet.
But this
planet…all he has seen is life in abundance and no sign of technologies and he
has finally encountered the first signs of sentience on this planet. Humans.
Humans have
a tendency to fear anything different, and what is different they either
destroy or leave alone and remain as far away as they can possibly manage. They
are a danger, but careful use of words or use of the Force can easily sway humans.
They will be little or no trouble to him.
**********
Along the
edges of his senses, he detects what can only be a village or settlement of
some sort, for he feels the Force signatures of several fifty to sixty humans
of both sexes and various ages. The road he follows leads to the settlement; he
will have to slip from sight within the forest when he nears the outskirts, not
wishing to enter until he has carefully scoped everything out.
His senses
ringing true, as they always do, not far ahead he sees the road opening up just
beyond a slight bend, seeing structures made of wood and thatch and horses
waiting before heavy two wheeled wagons carrying massive barrels made of wood
slats and metal rings.
Slipping
into the dark shadows and into the thick trees of the forest, he continues his
way closer to the settlement, his body tense, calling upon the Darkside of the
Force to heighten his senses and strength in this strange, unknown and yet to
be explored world. And just beyond the edge of the forest, he watches and
waits.
He does not
wait long.
Suddenly
screams fill the air and men yelling out loud, then the thunderous sound of
hooves racing in his direction. The sounds of battle and chaos fill his senses
and the taste of death is in the air.
The Force –
the Darkside, surges about him, and instinctively he grasps hold of his weapon
resting against his right side, hidden within the folds of his black robe.
Anticipation rises as he hears the sounds of metal against metal and in his
mind he sees an archaic battle taking place within the settlement.
The sweet
scent of blood comes to his nostrils and the sight of smoke and the smell of
fires rise from the settlement. It is an attack or a raid upon the village…no,
an ambush!
"Protect the Lady D'Wynter at all costs!" The call can be
heard over the carnage of battle, "They want the mistress! Protect
her!"
The group of
soldiers, the four in noble dress and the carriage carrying the Lady D'Wynter
and her handmaidens have been ambushed somewhere within the walls of the
settlement.
He could
just stand by and do nothing, but his instincts and something…in the Force
maybe, tells him to act. And growling deep in his throat, he emerges from his
place just within the edge of the forest and silently, becoming one with the
dark patches of shadow among and between the village structures, moving toward
the ensuing battle.
Veiled
within the webs of the Darkside, he sees the first signs of battle, tastes the
burning of human flesh, he hears the moans and groans of those slowly dying
from their wounds, gasping for their lasts breaths of life.
Bodies of
the innocence, of soldiers and attackers lie upon the ground, bloodied, dead or
barely living, their wounds gaping wide upon their bodies, twisted, torn and
mortal. This sight does nothing to him, he feels no fear, he feels no sympathy
for any of them. To him, if they were not strong enough to survive, they were
not worthy enough to live.
"My
Lady! Get to cover!" A voice yells just beyond the wall of black acrid
smoke rising from the burning structures to his right, the sounds of many men
and clashing weapons is all that is seen of the battle.
And then,
the smoke seeming to move, swirl about as if alive before him, just when he is
about to pass through, his senses alert him but only moments before a soft
lithe body slams into his chest. But he was not unprepared, his hands taking
hold of the slender arms of the woman before him.
With a gasp
of fear and surprise, the woman attempts to take a step back, only to find that
she is in the grasp of whomever she had just ran into.
Her long
gold kissed brown hair drapes loosely about her, having fallen from the
arrangement it had been in, hiding the eyes of her down turned face. A flowing
gown of softest velvet the color of sapphires caresses her slender delicate
frame to perfection, hidden beneath a long cape the color of blood, decorated
with gold, silver and over colors and materials that show her position and her
wealth.
"My
Lady." He speaks firmly and without emotion, but to his surprise, the
sound of his very voice seems to bring her tense body to relax in his grasp.
Slowly, she raises her head, revealing the eyes he had seen peer out from
behind the blue curtains of the carriage only a short while ago.
She lets out
a muffled cry, her eyes wide as she looks up upon the face and into the eyes of
the man who holds her, who's presence overwhelms her and who's voice soothed
her fear…until she looked up into the face of her savior.
"Do not
fear me, my Lady D'Wynter. I will bring no harm to you, nor to your kin unless
they mean to bring harm upon me."
But before
he is able to speak more, he forces the young woman behind him, slipping his
hand within his robe and revealing his silver hued weapon before him all in one
swift motion, stepping back and away from the wall of smoke. His senses ever
aided and heightened by the Force, he awaits those who have taken chase of the
young and fair Lady D'Wynter. And in less than the span of two heartbeats,
three large men appear through the smoke, slicing through it with their
weapons.
The moment
they see him, a man dressed in a deeply hooded black robe, wielding a weapon
made of silver-like metal in the shape of a short stalf, they too see the young
woman standing alone, watching the man before her defend her.
"Kill
him, and take the Lady D'Wynter – alive!" Yells one of the men, the one
with the steel blue eyes, and hair the color of midnight shot with a streak of
silver down its length.
The dark
man, he raises his weapon, stepping into a fighter's stance, prepared to battle
the three humans over the woman. He has already seen the weapons that they
wield – weapons that would fall prey to the blade of his own weapon, sheering
them into smoldering pieces of metal. The men, his adversaries, carry swords of
an archaic nature, but of different styles he has not seen before – certainly
not in all the worlds and cultures he has studied seen throughout his life thus
far.
"All to
easy." He thinks with a growl of confidence deep in his throat, knowing he
will destroy the three human males before they would ever have a chance to
scream in terror when they look into his eyes and see his rage, his pleasure,
his darkness. Slowly he slides his thumb over the activation button of his
weapon, anticipating the unique sound and feel when it is turned on. The
tension mounts in his body, hard well-toned muscles prepare to spring to
action, tendons and sinew stretch beneath his skin. His thumb flicks the switch,
activating the weapon…
There is
nothing – no sound, no vibration, no blade emerging from the guard of the
weapon. Nothing except a strange little sound inside the metal casing – a soft
almost minute vibration of the blood red crystals embedded deep within.
Snarling in
great rage and utter surprise, he deactivates his weapon, unsure what could
have caused it to malfunction, but remains within his fighter's stance, waiting
for the three men to come to him.
The three
men charge, swords ready to cleave, to cut, to drink the blood of the man who
dares to keep them from the woman they want, from the Lady D'Wynter.