He never misses, he reminisced, the sweet voices filling his head. Look! He hit it with his eyes closed! A child in his town had exclaimed. My, my, a woman mused at a spring tourney in the city of Miriam, he struck the bulls-eye thrice! He won a lot of praise that day when his marksmanship skills made him the winner. Eyes sharp as steel and hands as quick as a scorpion's sting. Vandal never missed his target.
But neither did his adversary, it seemed.
Is that what happened? He thought to himself, rubbing his temples as a pain throbbed through his skull. Sure does feel like I've been blasted in the head.
When he awoke, he saw that he lay on cold, rough concrete. Darkness surrounded him, so when he pounded the wall next to him with his fist, it made a metallic rattle. He stood up too fast, making him dizzy, and he groped blindly to catch himself.
He caught something round, vertical, and metal. A pipe? No, it was a shelf. He followed the shelf and shot his hand to the wall, looking for a switch or something that would light up the room. His fingers found a switch and he flicked it on.
The room lit up using a single glass orb hanging from the ceiling. Is this some kind of witchcraft? Corrugated steel walls indeed surrounded him. The shelves were stocked with small metal cylinders with pictures of fruit on them. A red pipe wrench lay on the lowest shelf: an ugly hunk of metal that was half-rusted.
Suddenly fear struck him when he realized his Leonette, was not with him.
"Shit!" he shouted. "Where is she? Where? Where is she?" he whispered frantically as he looked all over the little room. He felt naked without his three-barreled long gun. "Has someone stolen her? After they dragged me in this weird metal box?"
"Not from around here, are you?" questioned and eerie voice, close behind him, "a different time, too, perhaps?"
"Who's there?" he shouted quickly turning to face the talker.
There was no one there but a churning dark mass that seemed to grow larger. Gold flecked its surface.
"You can't be a reaper," the black mound said, "are you?"
"What are you talking about?" Vandal sensed something quite sinister about this creature. He lowered himself to pick up the wrench. The thing was heavy and most certainly would do some damage in a single strike.
"No matter," the black mound conceded, "perhaps your strength will be good enough!" Something that resembled a laugh escaped its dark maw. It bared its teeth, yellowish-white needles, and lolled its vile tongue, red and gleaming in the dim light.
It shot its tongue out at him, like a serpent eager to strike. But Vandal was quick, and the appendage wrapped around it. The slobber on the tongue dripped onto his fingers and seared them like hot tea. He snapped his hand back, letting go of the tool.
"He said I have to eat you," it said in a desperate tone, "or else he'll eat me!"
"That's too bad, demon." He flew to the door, turned the handle, and when the door swung open, he threw himself out. "Find someone else!"
Before him, the open area seemed similar to the room he awoke in but larger: rows of rusty shelves and the ceiling high above him, daylight coming through windows placed within them.
The black mass grew slightly larger as it pursued him. If only I had Leonette, Vandal thought, I would make short work of this freak. He searched the shelves and found more of those metallic cylinders with pictures of food on them. He chucked them at the mass creature, who opened its mouth to swallow them.
"Sorry, canned goods don't 'do it' for me, boy," it said giggling, "I prefer my meals fresh."
It's laughter stopped when a can, this one with a picture of a hound and a ribbon on it, struck one of those gold slits Vandal understood to be its eyes.
"You either eat or be eaten," it growled.
He ran down the alleys of shelves, throwing whatever he could find that sat on them. Whatever was hard or heavy, he favored. He came to a wall with a door. A red dome light glowed brightly above it. The door would not budge even with the knob turned. No good, thought Vandal with fear and anxiety filling his head.
The fumbling with the door allowed the creature close enough to lash its scarlet tongue at him. He side-stepped, and the tongue slapped the metal of the door, leaving behind a steaming stain on the surface.
Vandal took to a small room a few feet from the lit door. He rushed in. The mound's tongue struck at him again, this time wrapping around his wrist. Being in the room, he slammed the door on the wicked tongue. The first slam made it squeal and tighten it's grip, burning through his sleeve and making him scream in pain as the spittle ravaged his skin.
The second slam seemed to do the trick. The monster loosened its devilish grip and Vandal tugged his wrist free. Ugh! Damn creature, Vandal said as he sucked air in through his teeth. His wrist was red and raw. Gods, what do I do now?
He looked around the room with his back against the door to keep it shut. On a chair sat a dead man: a man long, long dead. Or rather its flesh was eaten off its bones recently. Vandal tried not to think about that scenario. His clothes were torn and falling apart, and beneath them, Vandal could see its fleshless ribs. The skeleton was missing an arm, and on its breast, a little black box with a thin protrusion coming out of one corner hung. On its lap, a jacket lay with the word "SECURITY" stitched into its back.
With the arm it kept, its bony hand rested on an "L-shaped" piece of smoke-grey metal.
The mound did not rap at the door but rather was licking the doors hinges. It would not be long until the door was weak enough to burst through. Vandal abandoned the door as he felt it loosen off its hinges and sprinted towards the little piece of metal.
The dark mass burst through. In the light of the room, Vandal could see he succeeded in blinding one golden eye, sealed shut and leaking some other corrupt fluid that flowed in its putrid body.
"I was going to be quick, and with far less pain to you," the malevolent slime said as it slithered closer, "but I must pay you back for the eye."
"You're just lucky I'm unarmed," snapped Vandal.
He grabbed the object off the desk, but the quick tongue yet again grabbed hold of his hand. Whether it meant to pull the contraption out of his hand or tear his fingers off with it, Vandal could not tell. Though the saliva ate through his fingerless leather gloves and scorched his skin, he did not let go.
However, in the back of his mind, the grip of this little metal thing seemed oddly familiar. His finger squeezed around a thin piece of metal that seemed to give way.
"What?" Vandal said out loud to no one in particular, "This odd little thing ... is this some kind of—"
KA-POW. The little thing's loud noise shocked Vandal into letting go. He stumbled back and fell on his rump. He smelled something burning.
The dark mass squawked in shrieked, a sound as jarring as, what Vandal judged, the gunshot.
Half its tongue hung from the base, the tip, still clinging to the bizarre firearm, swung wildly in its death throes. It swung madly towards Vandal, but he ducked and the firearm stuck some machine on the desk, causing a beep to emit from it.
The light to the door turned from red to green. The metal clanked and the door propped slightly open, letting in the daylight through the crack.
"I'm free!" Vandal shouted in joy to himself. "Now let's take a look at you," he said as he pulled the gun free from the lifeless tongue, "Mayhaps I'll name you, Lydia. Hmmm. Or—"
His excitement in this alien invention soon turned to disappoint as he saw the damage the saliva did on the metal. Whatever intricate mechanisms the gun relied on to work were all damaged. The slam smashed parts of it open, and the saliva found its way in, making the trigger unable to move, perhaps. He flexed his fingers. Though they were burned, he felt no stiffness and had no trouble moving them.
He tossed the gun aside in frustration and walked outside.
"Help! is anyone there?" A young woman's voice called out from a warehouse that looked like the one he woke up in.
There were several other similar structures around. What a strange realm, this is.
He walked towards them, hoping they knew more than he did about this place. One of them was wounded and bleeding. There were burns on his stomach, which may have been given to him by the same type of creature that attacked him back inside. The young woman tried to tend to his wounds, it looked like.
Seems we may be in the same boat ... Thought Vandal as he neared them.
Name: Vandal Blackwood (aka Vandal The Vigilant)
Age: 21
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Preference: Anyone
Current Occupation: Battle Mage Apprentice
Eye color: Grey
Hair: Black
Strengths: Great marksmanship, thinks on his feet.
Notable Markings: Vandal has a scar on his shoulder. He received it when bandits raided his village when he was little. His grandfather, a skilled swordsman, did all he could to protect him but died of his injuries afterward.
Weakness: Get stressed when his treasured long gun is not with him. This is due to his paranoia that started when he felt helpless when bandits attacked his village and he was almost killed. Too harsh on himself when he fails at something.
Personality: Rough and cold at first. He sometimes looks down on others for not being able to defend themselves, though he catches himself helping them at the last minute. It reminds him of his grandfather's sacrifice and the hatred he has for himself for not being able to protect himself or his grandparents, who raised him after his parents died. Quite arrogant (due to the many praises he receives from his talent with guns). He has a great liking for long guns. He has a triple-barreled long gun he named after his first love, Leonette. He had the fancy gun crafted by a talented blacksmith and master craftsman as a reward for winning in a royal competition. He took the firearm to an old battle mage to have it enchanted but had to do this in secrecy, since magic, in his world, was illegal and feared. He sleeps with the gun lying next to his bed, loaded and ready to fire at anyone who intrudes on him in the late hours of the night.
Important notes about the character: Vandal is from a sort of "Late Medieval" type of setting. Whether he is from the past of the current or another realm, is ambiguous. Either way, the "modern" world in this story is very strange to him. (electricity is magic and so are cars, factories, television, etc. to him.) Because of this, he might ask a lot of simple questions on how basic things work. Though magic is not foreign to him. The enchantments embued in Leonette, and her ammunition could be charged. The lead could turn into a fireball, shards of ice, or any other elemental attack if Vandal focused and did what the battle mage taught him. Interested in the arts, he became the battle mage's student for a while. He was sort of a novice when the event happened that made him wake up in the warehouse. So, he could charge weapons later in the story, as he trains in battle situations to get better and better or something.
Notes on Leonette: If you are interested, if you go to google images and search "Arquebus" that's what Vandal's gun looks like, except it has three barrels and its fancy. It's a really, really old type of gun. (I'd post a pic but I'm not sure about the copyright lol)
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