Hunting Shadows: An Eldemore-based story (WIP)

[Wolverine]

*Posting is open now*

Hunting Shadows: An Eld-based Story

Quick Forwards:
"Hunting Shadows" will be a maybe-short story, written by yours truly. Before I begin though, I must say that I recommend you to be around 13 to read it. It doesn't have any incredibly inappropriate things; it's just a little dark at times. It is set in the Eldemore universe, so please excuse me if any details are incorrect; I will aim for accuracy, but I'm sure I will be off on some occasions. I invite you to give your comments, criticisms, and questions, however, do keep in mind that I'm a rather sensitive person!
^^

Summary:

Arwyn and Brimstone are fleeing from people who want them dead. Basically everyone. From the Serval Seekers whom they betrayed, to the righteous Dire Wardens, no one wants them alive. Thieves before, Arwyn and Brimstone are now suspected to be the murderers and kidnappers of several rich, influential bonded human-animal pairs.

Meanwhile, Almae and Dros seek out the treacherous Arwyn and Brimstone, accompanied by the brash Ashton and Carmyn. Taking them into captivity is of top priority, for it is believed that they are incredibly dangerous and have dark, dark purposes for their actions, as well as unforeseeable consequences.

Main Characters:

Arwyn: A handsome young man with curly brown hair, sharp, chiseled features, and a jagged scar running across his right arm. Golden-eyed, with skin the color of a pale honey and bitingly smart, he changes garb and personality to sneak past his enemies. This 24-year old wears a necklace of braided red leather around his neck.

Brimstone: Arwyn's sea serval; is a dusty-ash colored with a sharp white stripe across his back and eyes of glittering emerald. His tail is black and gold banded. Cool and cunning, he and his keeper work together to commit crimes that no others are able of.

Ashton: A young man around the age of 22, he has a mane of long, blond hair, as well as a short, ragged beard and sideburns. Is argumentative and aggressive, often taking the route that causes the most destruction. He is hungry for justice and fame, however, these two wants can sometimes get in the way of each other.

Carmyn: A beautiful jet-black direwolf. She has a light band of golden fur across her two front paws, and is often sighted wearing custom-made armor. Like her Warden, she is aggressive and straightforwards, however, she does possess a higher-level of self-control than Sindra does, as well as having no wish for fame.

Almae: With her dark black hair, lightly mottled cocao skin and innocent brown eyes, no one would ever suspect Almae of posing any danger. However, with knowledge of a wide variety of topics, top-notch deduction skills, and cunning wit, she is much more dangerous than she appears. She is occasionally allowed to leave Mt. Bastion to help those below in dangerous cases which require a professional detective. Although great with all things mentally challenging, as well as having decent fighting skills, this 15 year old's social skills are about as advanced as those of Kramer from Seinfeld. Basically, they're bad.

Dros: A milky white male liger with a mane of midnight fire and eyes of molten gold, Dros captivates many with his beauty. He is sarcastic, however, he is slow to anger, but easily annoyed. He prefers silence, and only speaks when necessary. He is rather protective of Almae, and can easily become jealous.

Chapters (No actual set number):
Chapter One:
Chapter Two:
Chapter Three:
Chapter Four:
Chapter Five:
Chapter Six:
Chapter Seven:
Chapter Eight:
Chapter Nine:
Chapter Ten:
Chapter Eleven:
Chapter Twelve:
Chapter Thirteen:
Chapter Fourteen:

[Wolverine]

Chapter One: Dreams and Nightmares
Pain. So much pain, pain like a vine, strangling all that he loved, covering memories with poisonous wrath, tainting smiles with its venomous tinge, and making sadness all the worse. He fell to his knees amidst the drifts of snow, fallen tears of shivering gods above. He held his head in his hands, relished the lack of thought as ice numbed his mind and red fingers. Frozen salt water, stopped in its tracks before dropping off to earth below, clung to stinging red skin. Passersby walked on, turned the other way; out of sight, out of mind. Do not look at it, stay away! It will cease to exist, guilt needn’t come to us. Not one lifted a hand in helping, not one bent to give him comfort.

So he stood there, alone, winter soldier, field of ice, during the season of caring, kindness, compassion. His pain, his torment, was one without cure, no remedy to fight, or dull its aching, pounding throb. He was bent over like a tree, branches reaching to earth whilst sitting upon it an invisible burden. There was nothing left for him. He could still remember her. He had always feared, cringed away from the dark thing which haunted their house, filled his mother’s sickly gaze. It had lurked within her kindly eyes, had chained him there, but, as she finally slipped away, eyes sealed shut by ice and plague, he had ran.

As he cried, until he had no more tears to freeze upon his face, gave his soul into a world that didn’t care, a small whispering growl came near his ear. A lone sea serval, whimpering, half-frozen, covered in snow—another weary orphan. It came to him, attracted by the vague warmth that filled his cooling body, as well as his placid cries. So, together, barely any heat, bound together by nothing but need for survival, alone, lost, afraid, two frozen children faced a world much colder than themselves.

Arwyn woke with a start, eyes flashing with surprise. What had that dream been, haunting him, bringing back cold, dark memories? He rubbed his eyes with gloved hands, in an attempt to get rid of the last remainders of sleep, and, hopefully, also that dream. He heard a light comforting growl near him, and looking to his side, Brimstone, his sea serval, lay nestled within a pile of ragged blankets on the floor. The duo was currently sleeping in the captain's quarters of a large ship--however, it didn't belong to them. They had 'borrowed' it from some rich sailor during their travels. Drifting along in the quiet waters near Silverport, the night air was crisp and cold, and snow fell upon the tops of boats and houses, coating everything in an odd sort of blanket. Arwyn glanced out of the window of the cabin at the slumbering Silverport, hoping to calm his nerves.

There was no imminent danger outside, none of their plethora of enemies lurking within shadows to take them. In fact, more than likely, no one even knew of their where-abouts. They'd shaken off the last scout from the Serval Seekers a while back in a skirmish off near the Celtlands, and as far as they knew, there were no others who would have the vaguest knowledge of where they resided. Finally feeling his heartbeat slow, Arwyn lay back down, pulling the blankest of the small bed up to his chin. He closed his eyes slowly, telling himself not to sleep, but instead to listen for danger. That was a rather dumb idea, and, soon, he once more drifted out of consciousness.

Arwyn, when he opened his eyes again, seemed to gaze upon yet another scene from his childhood. Floating like some odd ghost-like being, part of the dream, yet not, he watched quietly, longingly, as a scene unfolded. A house in Silverport appeared, little door opened wide to the world, a mother and child dancing in the cobbled streets to music unheard. Friendly smiles, and a couple of unfriendly ones; this lad was suspected to be a thief and pick-pocket by some. Nevermind that, no one attempted to stop the two at their play, no acts of violence, no wretched coughs filled the young boy's ears. Warm summer day, air warm and fresh, filled the smell of salt brought by winds from the ocean. He was home, and, most importantly, he was happy. "It was rather peaceful, wasn't it?" A voice whispered in his ear. Arwyn jerked to the side, ready for combat. Instead, he was greeted by a sombre-looking face, eyes covered by a red blindfold. Dark black hair covered his head, ending in silver tips. The man's attire was rather dreary looking, and, at certain times, his form flickered, as if pulled away by some odd force.

"W-who are you?" Arwyn growled, watching the mysterious being with caution. There was something... not right about this guy, something dark and... off. Something that he really, really didn't like. The man's voice was deep and raspy, ancient, powerful. "It does not matter. I am not who you should be concerned with." He motioned towards the young boy, running to his mother's arms, eyes filled with glee, joy; emotions that Arwyn had long-since forgotten. He felt tears sting at the corners of his eyes, felt emotion well in his chest, but he quickly suppressed it. "What the heck are you doing to me?" He snarled, this time angry. These emotions--useless things-- would come back, burst past the gates he'd built against them in his mind, fill him with weakness.

"Get me out of this stupid dream!" Arwyn cried. No response, but the dark-haired man's form flickered. The smell of salt filled Arwyn's nose, and he could hear a young, squeaky voice in his ear. He put his hands over his ears, felt the icy touch they brought with them. Cold as winter, cold as a world uncaring, yet how was this so? He was standing there, during this warm summer day in this screwed up world. "You must remember again," the strange man said quietly, after Arwyn's moment of stunned silence. "The past you must learn from, you must gain from. To suppress it is to suppress yourself. You are that boy, you are that emotion."

The form of the blindfolded man flickered again. There was a new shape, the shape of some odd beast, blurry and hazy in Arwyn's view. The scene of the quiet Silverport dissipated, replaced by more memories, more emotions. A mighty roar begin to fill the air, fill Arwyn's mind. He fought the memories, the emotions exploding back, held icy hands against his head. He felt himself getting colder, and, as he did, the memories faded. Arwyn was gaining control again, banishing these unwanted thoughts. The man was disappearing in a whirl-wind of darkness and images, spinning away with a dying hiss, wings unfolding, angry seeming. Arwyn could no longer feel anymore, was numb to the emotions, to his past. Everything was gone, black, cold. He was alone. Only, this time, he enjoyed it.

**Sorry if it was a little rushed; will add more later. Chapter One ain't done yet! Tell me what you think so far ^^***

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