“They are mere beasts, slaves to their base instincts and desires, for they cannot resist the blood that flows through our veins, and that which pumps from our hearts. Let them smell the crimson we brandish on our collars and necks, for they will follow it to their doom.” - Unknown quote from the history of the Bloody Hands.
Isiah’s boots sloshed through the puddles on the cobblestone. His pace frantic and unsteady, his form almost animalistic under the light of the moon. His limbs were cold, his heart racing. Isiah’s eyes scanned the streets as the normal pace of his patrol had been abandoned. He was sure of it, a beast prowled the streets. He could smell ash, the taste of iron in his mouth, and could feel electricity in the air. Something has crossed over. The sound of a whistle cut through the air, the sound was like a crack of thunder in the quiet streets.
Isiah turned and ran towards the sound, tightening his grip on his blade as he slung it onto his shoulder. The large blade sunk into his shoulder pad. His other hand placed the whistle in his mouth, his pace only allowed quick breathes to fuel his whistle. Two sharp tones escaped into the air, two notes to let whoever was in danger that he was on his way. Isiah heard it before he saw it, a shriek and then multiple voices booming. “Move, move!” was all he could make out at first, the voices quickly becoming a cacophony of noise. Isiah could no longer discern one sound from another until he heard a howl. He shivered, a chill ran down his spine. “Come on Isiah, fucking sack up.” The words spilled from his mouth from behind barred teeth, they dripped with venomous intent, Isiah was scared and the poisonous words hurt, but they worked in firing him up.
There was a crash and more yelling, the sound of a commotion and fighting. More whistles could be heard, more frantic this time. No rhythm or melody, just desperate music escaping into the night air. Isiah dashed around the corner of the streets and was confronted by a chaotic scene. A naked woman scrambling on the cobblestone, blood painted one whole side of her body as she clawed desperately in a puddle of blood. Two men laid motionless on the floor, another was attempting to put pressure on a deep wound on his abdomen. Two spears flew through the air as two more men were still in the dance of battle. Isiah’s eyes followed the spears through the air as they found their destination. They sunk deep into their target and were responded in kind, with a piercing howl. Isiah’s eyes widened as a towering figure filled his sight. A tall, hairy shape was pushed by the spears against the front of a dilapidated house, its back hitting against boarded windows. Crimson spilled from its wounds, glistening in the moonlight. Another howl escaped from its gaping mouth, Isiah could almost see the air vibrating around the beast.
Isiah cut the palm of his hand on his blade and smeared it onto his neck. Isiah knew the sweet aroma of the blood of a Finger would tempt the beast to come for him. The beast sniffed the air and turned towards Isiah, its wolf like face seemingly twisted in delight at the sight of him. Isiah quickly reached for his kit and found the metal tin containing the bone powder, in a flash, he had shoved and sniffed it up his nose. The familiar feeling flooded his body, bliss, followed by his racing heart. His whole body vibrated, sound and colors warped and danced in his vision. The veins in his eyes throbbed and were now visible.
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Time slowed and Isiah felt his pace quicken, in one swift move he launched a javelin from his back and sprang forward, yelling like a maniac all the while. The javelin pierced the creature and it stumbled further down the front of the house. It screamed and faced Isiah, and lashed out at him, its large claws could easily tear Isiah apart. Isiah pivoted quickly and spun away from the left arm of the beast, his back turning had provided him the perfect opportunity to use the momentum to counterattack. With a sweeping strike downwards, Isiah’s blade cleaved the creatures arm off. The blade hummed menacingly, its hunger had been sated by the spilling of crimson.
The men and the woman froze in awe of the young Finger’s speed. Youth betrayed Isiah’s ability, his movements were masterful and his strength unmatched. To the untrained eye, he appeared as a vengeful spirit from the tales of old. “By the heavens.” one of the men muttered to himself. The uttering of those words knocked him from his stupor as he scrambled towards the woman. “We have to go, now!” His words loud with urgency. With the help of his companion, they supported the woman up to her feet, her curly blonde hair covering her face down to her belly button. They scurried away like desperate pray escaping a predator, they could hear the sounds of exchanging blows and blade meeting claw. The group found themselves facing a barricaded door. “Is there anyone in there?!” The older man banged his fist on the door. “Fucking let us in, please!” fear coated his voice, but there was a strength in it, the defiance needed to survive. “Please, even if you just take my daughter in!” He spun his head to the woman who could barely stand, in his panic, he had forgotten the cold in the air. “Here, here, you’re shivering.”
He spoke softly to the young woman, a tenderness swelled in his voice. He took off his coat and covered the woman. She looked up at him, her large blue eyes were swollen, surrounded by redness. Her petite nose was red in the cold and her body shivered. “Father” Her voice weak and fail. “Are we going to die?” Even close to the end, her voice danced in the air with a soft melodic texture. Upon hearing those words, the older man lifted up his maul and smashed the haphazard boarding. Each hit collapsed the exterior barricading, until the door was exposed. He hit the door twice, the door groaned and thudded. He began to swing again when a voice from inside the house called out. “Wait! Stop stop!”
Isiah was covered in wounds, most of them small negligible cuts and grazes. There was however, two deep scratches where the beasts claws had ripped and torn part of his left bicep. Isiah had made a mess of the creature, flesh and sinew had been butchered and exposed by vicious metal and the creature was reduced to pathetic flailing. In an act of desperation the beast attempted to leap up the face of the building, landing on the roof and collapsing. It clawed and lashed about, trying to crawl across the tiled roof. Isiah reached for spears that had been discarded in the fray and launched them at the beast. Each hit provoking another howl. What was once a mighty roar, had been reduced to weak whimpers. Another spear penetrated the creature and its strength had failed, it began to fall down the side of the house, dragged to the ground by its own weight.
Isiah closed the gap and stood over the beast, looming over it with a menacing form. His dark skin soaked up the moonlight and his long dreaded hair flowed in the breeze. It was now crawling on dirty cobblestone, its hair matted and clumpy with mud, blood and faeces. The smell of the beast invaded Isiah’s nostrils, it was pungent like the smell of barn animals, but much more offensive. Isiah was unnerved by the sight, the creatures breathing had slowed as it gasped for air. The beast turned onto its back and looked up at Isiah, their eyes meeting. It’s eyes were piercing and unrelenting, there was pain, but also recognition. Isiah took out a knife and leaned over the beast, it did not resist as the blade plunged into its chest. Isiah repeated the sacred adage as the beast sputtered blood from its mouth. “Blood for blood, I am one of many, I am a Finger of the Bloody Hand, thank you for this feast.” The blade curved downwards as it carved out a cavity in the beasts chest. After a few moments, Isiah pried inside the beast and had removed its swollen heart. With both hands, Isiah pulled the heart to his mouth and chewed.
