Child of Discordia
By: Alec Morton
Chapter 1
"Child of Discordia! I will not suffer thee!" A pause, then the cry of something scared. "Do not cry my pardon; cry the pardon of your father and the many fathers that came before him for it is their faces no matter how inhuman that you have forgotten!" A horrible scream rang out in the still abyss-like night sky, no lights shined, not even the moon and stars, this was a cursed night; suddenly a gunshot and the scream died in a sickening gurgle as the creature who the gunslinger talked to was torn away from the world of the living. It resembled a beetle, but was the size of a large dog and stood on two of its six appendages. The gigantic gaping hole in it from the close range of the powerful gun, resided as an inversion of its chest cavity. "Back to the Prim, back to the Crimson King, there is no clearing at the end of the path for you, ye are thrice damned." He spat on the dead body, the gaping hole smeared with the creature's thick green blood still smoked. He heard the creature give its last ragged breath then lay still, its body stiffened. In the distance he heard a faint, "Yar bugger!" He turned around forgetting about the small cluster of buildings behind him. He was about 30 yards from the village and knew the residents had heard him yelling his head off at the creature that had plagued them.
The town was small, about ten buildings, an inn, a saloon, a shop, a jail with an office attached, and the rest were homes of the residents. The town was very odd, residing in the middle of the desert, the closest town being some wheels away. Though small and in the middle of the desert, the people here thrived, and many a traveler passed by.
The gunslinger turned his gaze to the town's saloon where the exclamation had come from. His glare still held the harsh, keen, glare of a fighter in blood lust. The man that said it, they called Geon, not much else to him but his name; he was a drifter like the gunslinger. Geon started to add something else until he saw the frightening look in the gunman's eyes. Yar, he looked ready to take on a whole army, with his muscles still tensed, the gun in his hands, and the murderous look in his eyes. This man was battle hardened, the scars of war etched on his face, standing out like a white spinner's web against the tanned and weathered features. The eyes above his firm set nose were a faint lavender, but that was from a distance, up close the eyes were a cold blue with flecks of red, or as the folken preferred, crimson.
The Crimson Prince they called him. Though meant as a joke no one laughed at it. It stuck to him, and the folk knew not to mess with him. Tale tells that one day some children teased him about it, now they don't talk at all, something sure scared them. He still stuck by the manners of a gunslinger, was even a likable person, but something about those eyes…didn't bode well. Another odd fact was he was born to a woman named Maerlyn, pronounced differently but all to close to the evil wizard of the past. It was an omen, many knew it, for his family could be traced far back, but not past the birth of the Crimson King, as if they just popped into existence. They seemed ordinary, but always having the faint air of "odd" about them.
The gunslinger's name was Arthur Gan, yes very becoming for a gunslinger, some would even say he was just as honorable as Eld himself, but he was of not in any way holy or bore a relation to Arthur Eld, just a strange coincidence. His hair was a dirty blond, and he wore it short. His features were firm, and hardened by experience, but still holding some of youth's brightness. He had scruff from the recently forgotten remains of a beard on his face. Adulthood had just lighted upon him, and it treated him well. He had trained and earned his guns, he was a gunslinger, a combination of knight and cowboy. The guns were his sword and the Oath of the Gunslinger, was a sign of his father and Eld's favor upon him.
Dressed in a serape, bandanna, skin vest, jeans, and a shirt, he was a typical gunslinger. The creature before him was proof of that. He sat down to take a breath. The creature had been eating livestock, and was hiding under an abandoned house with several others. He had had a hard time coaxing the bugger out after killing the other four, but after awhile it went for the rotting meat the gunslinger had left outside the house for it. As soon as he came from behind it where he had been hiding, it raced away, squaring off with it here. The four he first killed had put up a fight, and were much bigger, he thought that this one was probably the female, and he bet his watch and warrant they had bred, which meant he had more killing to do. To save time he took some alcohol from the saloon, and threw it in the hole under the house, where they had been living. He then struck a match and threw it in. Luckily the house was abandoned and no one would miss it. He heard the confirming cries of the millions of babies being torched in the flaming house.
Why had Arthur appeared in this town, well he was going to the nearby town of Hacha when his team of horses and bucka had been attacked by the very creatures he just killed. He happened to be near the town when it happened, and since it was dark he hurried to it, hoping something worse didn't come out of the dark.
The house in front of him was groaning as the support beams started to give into the crackling flames. It was only a matter of time before the outfit crashed down. He better get away from there, but just a little longer, he would wait to see if anything tried to crawl out of the inferno. Then something unexpected happened, the flames hit something explosive, and shrapnel flew out. Knowing that if anything was trying to get out it was dead now, and the gunslinger, unscathed from the explosion, decided to get out of there before another explosion hit. Luckily this was the desert and there was no wind to spread the flames, and barely any grass to really cause a problem.
Chapter2
The Folken of the town of Direlson, for that was what it was called, had given him a wonderous celebration.
