The Path Less Traveled (Kunna)

[Testament]

"He's a disgrace.” Father Reynolds said, stroking his puffy chin. The bishops were in conference, scowls ever present around the room. Twelve of them in conference, all were incredibly sour in mood, the bibles having long since been put away. Reynolds seethed; this was a pure impossibility, this freak of nature. “Confound it, that damnable creature!” He roared, slamming his fist on the desk. “Brothers, this is a imperative of the highest order. We MUST remove this plague, this disease. We must not stop until he is dead in the ground.”

“Now Father Reynolds,” began Father Dominic, the calmest and self-admittedly the most corpulent in the group. His temperament was much calmer and his scowl came from a crisis of faith. How could an intermediary to Holy Christ Himself be a creature of the night? This was preposterous, he had dealt with werewolves, zombies and he preached to his flock. And yet there was a creature of evil, with the crucifix at his breast and words of compassion for those in need. It was utterly incomprehensible how such a contradiction could exist. Dominic could only pray, God would be the ultimate Decider in this matter.

“Now, what is that, speak up, confound it!” said Father Arsediddler, struggling to lift his earphone to his ear, not be able to hear a damn word anyone said.

“Gentlemen, the time for talk is over.” Father Reynolds said, his voice grave and his face deathly white. “Dominic…call the guards at their post. Ready them at once.”

“And say what?”

“Kill the vampire, on sight. The demon will not surrender.”

“How do you know that?” implored Dominic, his voice desperate. Violence at the last resort, Christ was not violent and Dominic didn’t believe the bringers of Faith should be either.

“If you don’t, I will.” Reynolds said, the ultimatum clear.

“God help us all,” Dominic said as he went to summon the guard.

“Father Matthias…” began Reynolds.

“Yes, my Brother in Christ?” Matthias inquired, moving to Reynolds’ side.

“I feel that Dominic has lost his way…” Reynolds said.

“Quite,” said Matthias, immediately wise to Reynolds. “Such a sad thing went it happens to one of our Order.”

“Yes, so true. And I do think the remedy will have to be severe…”

“We must end his erroneous ways, give him peace.”
“Will you see to that, Father Matthias? May I trust you with this awful task,” Reynolds said, tears glittering in his eyes.

“In all things, we work for the glory for Christ.” Matthias said, barely able to his smile before he left to his task.

Testament ate hungrily at the meat he had bought from the butcher. He had requested the meat from the animal fresh and untouched. He wanted the blood and the meat; and he ate like a starving man, which one could say he was. He was not enraptured with this town; its inhabitants were the worse kind of hypocritical. They held their hands high to Jesus but they’d gut their infant for a nickel. Everyone sickened him; but the priests made his blood boil. He shook his head as he considered Reynolds.

“Sheep fucker,” he said irritably. The butcher came over to him.

“Oh no sir, I don’t do that. I only cook the meat, I don’t bed with it.”

“I…” Testament said helplessly, unsure how to even begin responding to that.

Lightning crackled and the angry gray clouds begin to drop rain, torrential ran down on the town. In minutes, the ground was muddy and taking on water. The weather got colder…at least twenty minutes, Testament thought miserably. Before it was unpleasantly nippy, now he could see his breath in the air.

“Bloody…” he swore before he pointed at the butcher sharply, “don’t! Don’t even say it.” He said before licking his fingers and walking off. The chill made him shudder by in minutes, he’d be right as rain. He was a tall man, over six feet tall, and a roughly built man. His face was hard and possessive of a habitual scowl. It wasn’t that Testament couldn’t feel a good mood, it’s just he hadn’t met circumstances that would warrant such a drastic change. His hood was that of a monk, and he carried a large staff. However, unlike a walking stick, he kept it resting on his shoulder. It came down forcefully whenever he stopped, like he was ready to use it at a moment’s notice.

“Stop, by the edict of the town,” a soldier cried as Testament was suddenly surrounded by soldiers. It happened quite fast, faster than he thought possible but there he was, surrounded by pikes that were being leveled at him. That didn’t exactly sit well with him.

“Do you have any idea about what you just stepped in?” He asked quietly.

The pike came out at him, in a vicious stab. It was cut in half along with its owner as quick as it came, Testament’s katana unsheathed and already responsible for one killing stroke.

“You fools!” He hissed, “this is futile. Run away and I’ll leave your blight-ridden town.”

“We have orders, from the Fathers. We got the fat priest and now we’re after you.”

Testament had heard quite enough, and he lunged at the speaker, beheading him in a stroke. The katana which he received from a Sohei, a Japanese warrior-monk, six hundred years ago when he was but a traveling knight-errant, far from his conversion. He knew how to kill with this blade and this blade tasted blood more often than not. He moved with deadly precision, they didn’t have a prayer. When the last one fell, his trunk separated from the rest of him, cut in two, he flicked his blade and sheathed it quickly.

He began to head towards the stables as the butcher fell over himself trying to head back into his shop. A gale of wind brushed through the mud and a bolt of lightning tore through the sky. He scowled as he ran to the church, he stepped back in horror as he saw in the courtyard, crucified upside down. His head was gone and stuck on a pike. He recognized the face as Father Dominic, the only priest that he ever saw actually preaching. The followers of Christ brutalized one of their own in a mockup of Saint Peter himself. His face curled into rage and he kicked down the door of the Cathedral. Father Vincent, one of the older members of the council moved as quickly to Testament as his old legs would carry him.

“You! Stop! You’re in the House of God…”

“He’s got plenty more.” Testament replied before he brought down his blade on Vincent’s head, bisecting him evenly. It was a perfect halving, the clergymen cut down the line from his face to his groin. He flicked his blade to clear the blood and moved onward. A stray custodian grabbed a candelabrum and ran toward him, swinging at him wildly. Testament deftly batted it out of his way and roared angrily at the fool, who took the hint and beat a hasty retreat.

“He’s the last one I spare, I kill anyone else who steps in my way!” Testament bellowed, his voice savage and ringing through the ancient building. He made his way quickly, not wanting any of them to escape. His search was soon rewarded as he found the main prayer room. There were the Judas Iscariots, clutching each other and huddling in fear.

“Cease, demon. This is a holy place.” Father Reynolds said, his voice quavering as he held out hope for his salvation.

“You who plan death and deceit do not deserve his mercy…” Testament whispered hoarsely, pointing to the Jewish carpenter, the begotten son on the cross. “You speak of piety and mumble murder. You speak of helping the poor and horde the tithes to yourself. You who are the spawn of the underworld when you are most needed as the preachers of humility…it will be a public service to send you all to Hell.” Testament said with utter finality.

“Gawain…” Testament said.

“Yo.” A voice replied.

“You know what to do.”

“Sure do.” The voice named Gawain replied before his words morphed into a maniacal laughter. The screams could be heard from the next town over. And then all was silence.

“Time to steal a horse and leave this bloody hellhole.”

[Testament]

Rain fell as Testament rode at a breakneck speed, cursing them both with a slicker ground and less visibility. The horse was faring well, for a stolen stallion that he was unaccustomed to riding, and making very good time. Testament didn’t have a clue where the next town would be so the operative strategy was to ride hard until one sees new lodgings. His staff was collected, its essence compacting its actual physical size to a dime, in his right hand gauntlet.

His gauntlet was no ordinary thing, it being a sacred tool and a sentient being all of his own. Gawain, the personality inside it, had been his companion since he left his village at the age of sixteen years old. The village, the Cho-krien located on the Jural river far away from civilization, was not known for civilization or kindness but Testament had seem like the lad who had his head on the tightest so the clan leader called him into his hut on the day to leave.

“Boy, are you ready?” Genma, the chieftain said with a decrepit voice, his face horribly disfigured. It was not unusual, the atrocity on the faces of the village. It happened before Testament was even born but the village had been under control by the Warlords to East who had ruled with a cruel hand. As it was, the Eastern Warlords were attacked by the South and immediately left the village and never came back. And the village was left to suffer on its own, its constitution completely shattered. But somehow it recovered, against all odds, it recovered and rose to become a village that could feed itself, barely.

“I am, sir.” Testament answered, his eyes deadened, his face never having known joy. His ribs showed and his legs were spindly, his face was hallow and gaunt and his eyes looked like a silent scream that couldn’t make itself it be heard.

“You are the most fit of the village, and you are another mouth to feed, so I’m to send you away. Far, far away you must go, to where you’ll never see us again.

“Yes, sir.” Testament said, his voice impassive. He could barely walk but who was he to argue?

“Before you go boy, I have something for you. Something that was left to us by the Warlord, we have no idea what it is, but perhaps you can use it. We’d just as not have any reminder of you or the Warlords.

The feeling is mutual, Testament thought, but all that came was: “Yes sir.”

Testament caught the green hollowed out gauntlet and looked at it puzzically. He had not the whisper of an idea of what it was, yet it was his duty to take it.

“Now go.” Said the village as one, and Testament went, his stomach aching as he went in search of the nearest river, a brook, some thing with clean fresh water. He held the green object under his arms and did not acknowledge it until:


“Haijai malachai oookie pizookie.” Said the green object.

Testament screamed and dropped it, grabbing a nearby stick. But he said nothing. He just poked at it.

“Owa jawa falla homally crackola.” It said, said quite indignantly in a nasal voice.

“What…what are you??” Testament cried, bewildered by this enchanted thing.

“Oh, so that’s what you speak. Why the hell didn’t just say something?” It said, wearily but not without humor. “You can quite shaking now, I don’t bite. My harm comes in other forms.”

“What are you?”

“I am not a what, I’m a who, goddamn you! And my name is Gawain!” Gawain cried indignatly. It was only at this point, that Testament noticed something about the gauntlet. It, or rather he had a large reptilian eye with an amber iris.

“Who are you then!?” Testament cried, feeling a bit faint. This was a little more excitement than he was ready for and already he was starting to have trouble breathing.

“Oh wow, you are one fucked up kid.”

“Shut up, you’re a worthless eye on a glove, what do you know?”

“I know you haven’t seen a full meal in god knows how long. I know that if I put a piece of rotted, fly-ridden meat you’d gnaw at it like it was the finest steak. I know that you are not going to live past the forest in the condition you’re in and finally, I know you’ll need my help to survive.”

Testamant hit the ground, his heart beating a bit out of control while he wheezed for breath. A racking pain hit his stomach.

“Oh Jesus, this is bad…bad bad bad.” Gawain said, “oh boy, not a good sign at all. Kid, put me on…”

“I can’t see…” Testament said, his eyes milky white as he shook uncontrollably.

“That’s okay, come to the sound of my voice. No, not that way…cold, cold, you’re freezing, homie. Yeah good good, hot..hot…hot…red hot...” Gawain said as Testament through sheer force, slid gauntlet onto his left hand.

“Okay, now we’re in business,” Gawain said as he began to search the body of his host. “Wow, I really didn’t know the half of it, when is the last time you ate.” Testament’s vital signs of life were bad, quite bad, even to the point where Gawain was a bit frightened. “Yanno I’ve been waiting in hibernation for some bastard to slip me on. It was no fun, sleeping all those years. And then along you come and you’re halfway to hell. Yeah, that’s my lot in life. Look at Gawain, he’s such a strong gauntlet taking care of that girly man.” Gawain said as he sent a shimmering ripple through out Testament’s body, and as that happened, the vitals improved. His stomach was less distended, he had teeth again, his limbs didn’t ache quite so bad.

“You talk too much,” managed Testament.

“At least I was properly educated to speak. Ohhhhhhh, you’d better go to a trauma center and have those third degree burns looked at.”

“What’s a trauma center.”

“…Nothing. You wouldn’t even belive me if I told you.”

“So…you healed me?” Testament as softly as he fell to his rear on the dirt road, crossing his legs Indian style.

“Healed you? I dunno if I’d go THAT fair. But I definitely brought you back from death.”

“What happens now?”

“Well kid, and I hate to break this to you, but you’re going to know war pretty soon.”

“My people have known suffering and war. I’ll be prepared.”

“You won’t be the slightest thing even close to that. Your village suffered, oh yes. But never were they at war, they can barely feed themselves and half the time they can’t even manage that.”

“How would you know this? You’ve been asleep, you said by your own words, for too long.”

“Well I know roughly in the same way that I was able to heal you: Magic.”

“Magic? Like spells?”

“Hell yes, I got super powers; bow to me, bitch.”

“What’s a bitch?” Testament asked, confused.

“A bitch is someone who nurses puppies or gets half your estate in the event of a divorce. And don’t ask me what any of those words mean, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Okay.”

“In any event, I do believe that we should be heading to the next village. Take this path and I’ll guide you along. We got a looooott of work ahead of us.”


Gawain was his greatest weapon, his truest friend, his comfort at the harshest moments. Of course there were times when something was said and it’d be a week before they’d speak to each other, but nevertheless they were a unit. Right now, Gawain stored the battle staff in his inventory. Testament could summon if needed, but right now Gawain needed some serious shut eye and this rain wasn’t doing anything for his eyelids.

“Only thirty minutes to the next village,” Testament whispered presciently to Gawain.

“I thought I told you not to wake me.” Gawain said irritably.

“I thought you’d want to know…” Testament said defensively, “just go back to bed.”

“I don’t feel like we talk that much anymore.”

“You’re the one who wanted sleep so go back to sleep.”

“Asshole.” Gawain said.

“Prima donna,” Testament replied.

Twenty nine miles to go…it was going to be a loooong trip.

[Kunna Drakonis]

Once more she was there in the market, searching for that little niche of a store. She'd spotted it once or twice in passing but never did have the chance to stop and window shop. It was so near and close she felt it in her blood. Kunna had always been atuned to historical relics, but this one drew her soul. She needed it, if not to use it or place it behind glass, but to at least find out why it called to her. Like a fine pronged tuning fork it harmonized with her core, where she left her family, her real family, inside.

Blue eyes caught glimpse of the shop sign, hanging high and lined with neon tubing. Ironically the place looked cheesy enough to hold something along the lines of what she looked for. A pallid hand opened the door and stepping inside a bell chimed to her entrance. It smelled of cloves and burning sage, a cleansing scent for the body and spirit. Candles were lit as was the insence. Bobbles and trinkets of the pagan pursuasion lined shelves and small round tables, draped with hippie dyed table cloths. There was a soft music playing in the background, flutes and tamborines and drums that held no real rhythm but had a nuance of harmony and flow. Everything reminded her of a Wiccan's wetdream.

But she wasn't there to look at fairy statuettes and copy paintings of girls with dripping eyeliner and pretty red hair. No, she was being pulled toward the back of the shop where the books filled an entire wall, hidden from view of the opening door. Kunna walked toward the back and a middle aged woman with frizzled hair and dark rimmed glasses rose from the small nook behind the cash register counter. It was apparent to the shop keep that the present and only patron of 'The Bubbling Cauldron' was as alive as she was dead. Vampires were common in the area, but not within the shop itself.

"Can I help you with anything?" Words were spoken meekly from between thin lips.

"Not at the moment, I'm looking for a book." Kunna wouldn't give an exact reason, there was no need.

"I'll be right here if you need me to get anything for you then." The woman was smart, kept to herself.

Kunna kept moving toward the bookshelves. There were volumes there that were obviously done by false Pagans and PCP addicts. She kept searching down the shelves, and as if her hand was pulled by a string, it landed upon a dark leather bound book. The cover was plain but soft, only a single marking beneath the coiled leather strap that encircled it. Nimble fingers unwrapped the strap and opened the front cover of the book. Nothing happened, it was just a spell book, but what Kunna found in that book grabbed her attention and wouldn't let go.

Page 13


Summoning Creatures of Mystical Power

1 Black taper candle
1 colored taper candle of the creature you wish to summon
Representations of the 4 physical elements: Water, Fire, Earth, Air
Representation of your soul

Set up circle as you would for a normal spell casting, making sure the black candle is toward the West to abolish the spell and send back the creature from whence it came. Place the colored candle in the East to welcome it in.

Kunna's attention snapped back to the bookshelf as a few of the books fell over one came completely off the shelf to tumble to the floor. A look of curiosity brought a single brow to raise as Kunna knelt, picking it up. The cover had a few words that had the vampress flipping back its cover to read, beyond intrigued of the contents. This is what she'd come into the shop for. She'd found what called out to her. Closing the cover she reread the title...

'Mystical Creatures and Magical Objects'

Turning back toward the cashier, Kunna laid the books down on the counter. The woman inhaled silently but enough to catch the vampire's attention. She'd have to take care of how she handled this book it would seem. Using her bank card, Kunna quickly gathers the rest of her requirements and moves from the shop. Her very medieval looking cloak split down her back and the hood fell from her long, black satin curls. Black wings remained in the stead of that flowing velvet cape and Kunna made a simple motion with her mind. She rose from the ground and shot quickly across the sky. It was time to return home.

~~

It took only moments to make her way back to the steps of VCS. Her school was looming and warm, though dark as it was. The students would be returning from their holidays. Only Leasollette though had shown thus far and the girl would be preoccupied with her pets. Slipping into the main hallway, Kunna made her way down a hidden corridor that led her deep into the castle's belly. It homed the large sanctuary she tended to frequent when alone. Lately it had been quite often.

The sanctuary opened up in the center of the castle, allowing a bit of sun in during the daytime and the moonlight to filter in at night. Vaulted ceilings and the stained glass dome that covered over the giant willow tree made it all the more entrancing. She would not be using this area of her home, but passed by the coi pond to another doorway that led to a long spiraling staircase. Further and deeper still she went. Finally, Kunna came upon her craft room.

She set up the circle as instructed in the first book. Having been practiced in this craft, it didn't take much time. It was then in the second book she glanced once more at her desired object. Her hand moved to the small black pouch on her hip, and from it she removed a dragon's eyelash. Silver and sharp, it could have been mistaken for a glittering dagger. This would be her representation for her soul. The dragon, it's blood which ran through her veins passed on by her birth parents.

Moving to the center of the pentacle and rune like characters on the floor, Kunna grasped the eyelash and slashed her palm open. She then placed it in the very center as she faced the green taper candle. Her voice was rich and calm. There was no need for ancient dialects here.

"From distant lands and wars past,
object of my desire, come to me at last.
With Dragon's fire and Dragon's blood,
Send to me that Dragon glove."

The circle began to glow a bright white, reflecting brilliantly off those ice blues that had gone wide in shock. It had worked. It had taken only moments since the last word escaped her lips that she felt a sizzling sensation running through her body and out of her hand. Raising her eyes, Kunna felt a presence filling the room. It was large and all encompassing. Though the as it filled with power, the air remained clean and cool, almost turning into a refreshing taste. Then it all began to pinpoint in one area of the room, directly infront of her. A ghost like figure began fading in and out, the whinny sound of a scared horse then breaking that odd silence. What the hell was coming forth?

Kunna remained in the circle, knowing it's protective services as long as she stayed inside the lines. Then almost as soon as the sound came, so did the full figure of a horse, it's rider, and the green gauntlet with the single eye.

"Gawain.."

[Testament]

Onward they rode, the desert sun beating upon them, Testament in insufferable discomfort. It was only by a thin glowing barrier providing by Gawain that he was not falling victim to the sun. He hadn’t always been this way but one of his teachers had been a nightwalker, in the classical sense, and had turned him out of sheer boredom. It was a blessing and a curse, but more of a blessing. Testament felt that it lent credence to his words and allowed him access to feats unimagined by humans. Gawain wasn’t too thrilled either, having to work more than he preferred.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, how long til the next damn stop?” He whined, his eye shut to block the sun.

“…Shut…up.” Testament gasped, drenching with sweat and twitching uncontrollably. It was the vampire could do just to stay on the horse. The speed at which they traveled made it even more difficult for him to stay on. This was the third horse that they had acquired the other two too exhausted to go on. The dynamic duo had been dastardly disillusioned by images in the West. What was supposed to take twenty-nine minutes and counting quickly stretched into three miserable days.

Patience, however, has a way of rewarding those who practiced it. For after twenty more minutes the barren desert gave way to a lush forest. And it was no mirage either; it was a full gorgeous forest with a lake, ponds, trees, foliage, and fauna everywhere one looked. Testament rode at full speed until they reached the lake and the three dove in. Testament gulped down, swallowing on the clear fresh water that soothed his throat and calmed his boiling skin. He led himself sink to the bottom of the lake where he rested, not needing to breathe and not wanting to move…at all.

When some time had passed and they felt more alive and vibrant, they decided to trek onward. Gawain entered the horse’s simple mind and urged it to follow them as Testament walked on foot, not wanting to burden the deliverer of his salvation. In a surreal moment, a doe passed them by, stopping for a second to contemplate the curious bipedal before her. It was all the time before a shadowy komodo dragon raced to her and slashed her throat. She didn’t have a prayer nor did she feel pain as she became one with nature. Testament, very much still on the temporal plain, walked over to her and with his sword, wiped against his cloak to ensure some cleanliness, cut the prey into a manageable meal and cured his hunger. Walking back to the river, he began to disrobe before he was nude as a newborn babe and dove into the lake, cleaning himself. After he was clean, he squatted and began to wash his clothes and clean the blood and gore out of them. Feeling absolutely vibrant and much relieved, he dressed and mounted the horse once more.

“Well, that didn’t go exactly according to plan,” observed Gawain, his mood still slightly sour but it was still an improvement.

“No, it did not. But that’s fine, we’ll get this figured--” Testament said before the wind began to howl and lightning struck from the heavens, lighting up the sky, the thunder deafening.

“…odd, I didn’t sense a shift in the barometric pressure…” mused Gawain, puzzled.

“That’s no thunderstorm,” Testament roared, fighting to be heard over the wind. “Someone’s doing this…”

And then they were gone, swept away by the hand of Time in a blurry instant. It wasn’t like falling in a spinning circle, nor was it like having a long dream. It was very much like someone flipping one into the air where the victim feels inertia and a complete loss of sensory understanding. Testament barely had time to register a thought before he found his surroundings completely changed. It was a stone room, nothing fancy and a few nice chairs ordered about where one might take a load of their feet. The stallion reared sharply and threw Testament off, sending him towards the wall. He wasn’t fast enough to prevent his unseating but he did have enough of his bearing to strike against the wall with his feet and pushing off, he somersaulted to the horse before the blade came out and the horse was halved. Testament took no pleasure in the act but a scared horse inside an enclosed space was a mortal danger to all involved. It was better to silence its fright by sending it to Nirvana.

Bringing his sword around his head in a windmill motion, he swiped downward as the blood flew off his blade. He quickly sheathed in the traditional style, with the scabbard turned ninety degrees and him running the back of the blade until the tip was over the scabbard’s opening. Slipping it into the scabbard, he brought it back to its original position and slid his sword back fully into the sheath. He turned his attention to his guest or should he say, his hostess. He was the foreign one not her. He stared at her for a few seconds before he pulled the blade, sheath and sword out and placed it down to the ground as he knelt with the hilt of the blade above his left knee and parallel to his front as he bowed low to her.

She was kind looking, with blue eyes and black hair and her skin could have been that of a porcelain doll he might have picked up during his travels in the Orient.

“I do not know your name, or where I am. My name is Testament. I am an undead Vampyre, a former Catholic priest and now pagan teacher of all walks of life. Forgive my violent display, the horse’s despair had to be remedied somehow and I saw no other way but my extreme solution, my humble apologies.”

His head was still lowered but Gawain’s eye began to stir.

“Wait a damn second, I know you from somewhere.” He said as the shadowy komodo dragon came out, growling and rumbling a deep warning call.

“Kunna! LONG TIME NO SEE, TOOTS!”