Another wrench thrown into the scheme of things
Who: Sena, a crazy old necromancer and anyone who happens to come by him
What: In which Sena's community service like attitude lands him into trouble.
Where: Near thewarehouse district, next to a lone rundown house of sorts; later market district
When: Sometime in the afternoon
Sena blinked and looked around the small area near the warehouse district he had somehow stumbled upon. Where was he? The area was dark and dingy, smelling of fish and something else that wasn't quite right. He shivered. It was so quiet- eerily so. He couldn't hear anything. Not the roar of the waves, chirping of any birds-- hell, he couldn't even hear the market place.
Dark cobwebs gleamed with dew as they clung to the old, decaying trees and rundown shack. Despite it not raining the day before, puddles of mud and other substances that Sena was sure he did not want to identify were splattered across the ground. Something snapped beneath his feet
He frowned pensively. There was something wrong about this place. He walked around aimlessly, attempting to spot something familiar. After a few minutes, he realised that yes, he was stuck and would probably need someone else to help him out.
Hastily, he pulled out his journal from his bag and began to scratch out a small message, hoping that someone could come and find him. Sena didn't want to be in this place any longer than he had to.
Suddenly, a gnarled looking hand shot out of the darkness and clamped heavily onto his shoulder, causing him to shriek slightly in suprise, jerking his pen across the page, dropping the journal onto the dirt covered and muddy ground. A wet sounding sickly cough sounded behind him. He forced his shoulder away and jerked around staring at the man infront of him in shock. He clutched his shoulder, wincing at the sharp, throbbing pain pain. He just knew there would be bruises forming along it later.
"Help...I need help...child wont you help me? They took away my children....my wife...everything..." The man wheezed through unsteady breaths. Ugly thick burns ran across one half of the man's face, disfiguring him completely. The man's lids were heavy, causing his eyes to appear as black slits and an ugly white cross shaped scar blackened around the edges covered the barely visible skin that peaked through the high collar of the black robes.
"H-help?" Sena echoed. "Help...of course I'll help you. What do you need?" Sena inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. All the man wanted was help. Sena was willing to help the man out, if he could. The man smiled. It wasn't a happy smile. Or even a cold and malicious one. But one of pure insanity.
"...your blood..." His eyes widened and Sena found himself taking a small step back. His eyes remained fixed on the man, as the tendrils of terror began to take a hold on him.
"...your life..." The man continued to wheeze and insanity, pure insanity began to coat his words. "You bastards...all of you fucking bastards...my friends....family...wife....all dead...because THEY wanted to make more room for you new arrivals...." He lashed out angrily with an odd dagger he had hidden up the sleeves of his robe. Yelping, Sena moved back, only to stumble and fall over his journal.
Taking the chance, the man pounced, forcing the small boy to the ground, and raised his dagger high above his head. Sena gasped as pain exploded through his head, sending black spots into his vision. Images, horrific images of multilated bodies, decaying and crumbling under the ravages of time slammed into his mind and Sena could only lay there, frozen in a trance.
"No matter..." the man continued to mutter in his craze, "blood, blood. ALL OF YOUR BLOOD." He threw his head back and laughed loudly. "ALL OF YOUR BLOOD SHALL REVIVE THEM ALL! Such lovely sacrifices you shall make. And justice shall be served!"
"But first...the eye of an innocent must be used to begin the rites. And an innocent, you are, aren't you?" The man muttered thoughtfully, and brought the knife down, aiming at the boy's right eye. And it was at those words that forced Sena out of his trance.
Sena stared wide-eyed in horror as the man rambled on insanely and with reflexes honed from football, managed to jerk his head away in time, so the knife slashed across his eyelid, across the side of his face and straight into the ground. He had to get away. He had to get away NOW. Adrenaline kicked in and using all of his strength, he yelled thrashed and kicked, causing the man to loosen his grip.
Taking the chance, he grabbed his pen and shot forward like a bullet, sinking his teeth into the man's arm as he forcefully shoved the pen into the man's side, piercing through layers of cloth and straight into flesh.
A scream of pain resounded from the man, and he fell back, crashing heavily to the ground as Sena let go, yanking out his pen as he did. With the speed that had given him the title of fastest runner in the Kanto district, Sena scrambled to his feet and picked up the fallen journal, not noticing as blood flecked onto the empty, mud and dirt covered pages
He panted heavily, fear overtaking his mind as he forced his legs to run and just keep running, even though he could barely see where he was going and everything teetered peculiarly, as if he was on a boat. Don't stop. Don't stop. Suddenly, he found himself flying forward and crashed onto the ground as ropes tangled themselves around his feet.
Behind him, he could feel the man looming closer and with renewed terror, ripped the ropes off his feet, got up and ran like he never ran before, ignoring the twinge in his ankles. He didn't stop running, dodging and ducking through and between the warehouses, containers and boxes. He ignored the crates he knocked over in his haste to get away and continued moving.
It felt like an eternity before he stopped running, stopped feeling like he was being chased and collapsed heavily next to a pile of crates as exhaustion hit him heavily.
He stared blanky, eyes unseeing as he clutched his pen in a death grip. Beside him, his journal lay, forgotten.