My baby Crest, very loved, just not...He's not been used so I'm working more on him since I actually adore him since I won him with writing <3
Champion. wrote:username;;
Champion.
kalon name;;
Shane 'Crest' Dembroy
kalon gender;;
Male
a time they had to fight for something;;
And I hadn't Even Known I was Falling-Part 1
As a kid everyone chastised for not valuing the gift of life my parents had oh so lovingly given me, but would they say that now if they saw me? Darkened crimson leather straps bound me to the stone hard chair, squeezing the air from my legs and choking; dried blood from last night's fight stuck my hair in clumps and stained my fair skin, hiding freckles I still have yet to grow out of. I can barely make out the group of three men surrounding me. This trio I've come accustomed to. A lanky built man with copper curls and a set of thick round frame glasses is the one managing a rolling cart of medical tools and various liquids, his name is Hammond, well that's the only name I've heard him called. Next there's the brute, large in mass and muscles, but overall a very short build for man of his work. I like to think there's no brain behind his sweaty jacket of skin. Delanoy (dell-ah-noi) is his name I've heard, all that muscle is what gets me into these straps and gets me to even bother listening to these men. Malon (Mal-on) is well the gears to this entire operation and he personally likes to attend my sessions with Delanoy and Hammond. I've never actually seen this man so I don't know much of his looks. His voice is my only clue, the rich and heavy tone sends shivers down my spine and hopefully I've truly never have to meet him.
Hammond has a tight grip on my should as he forces me to extend out an arm, forcing into into an extremely uncomfortable straightness. Of course I know what he's doing even if I didn't feel the needle prick into my wrist I still would. A burning sensation curls my toes as it pumps into my blood stream. Product 7XG, a twisted way to keep me under-control of Malon's fight ring. Upon each and every person that's ever been kept here they've found a way to rearrange our DNA and even had or remove an important part. Product 7XG or otherwise known and nicknamed as Hell's blood is one key component to who I am, without it daily I wouldn't be alive. Soon my thoughts all begin to swirl and mix together and everything seems to be a dream. I feel air fill my lungs fully for the first time in an hour and then next the hard cement floor. Funny how I didn't even know I was falling.
Everything seems dark and I realize ever so slowly, that's because it is. Something's not right, my body feels a bone deep chill, and I'm still on the ground as I attempt to lift myself only to have everything holding me up give out. One my one my senses are coming back, my nose picks up the most pungent of scents as if rotted meat left in the sun for too long had become mixed with fish caresses, it burned my throat each breath of air and stripped my lungs of clean air withing seconds. Still my eyes are left without a scene to pick apart and my ears are left with a painful silence. Even now I wish I could hear my own cries if only my voice had not been stripped from me upon being towed away to this place.
The arena were I've stood so many times, a sword clenched in my fist, knowing that it was my life or someone else's as cruel as it was my life for several long and painful years was fighting to keep your life by taking someone else's. This isn't the arena, no that large, concrete floor place was kept tidy and smelling sweet to entice spectators for the blood bath to pay more money. I was under the arena where they disposed of corpses, yet I wasn't dead. Swallowing tightly I tried to steady myself on just my hands and knees trying to crawl over the disgraced bodies. "Why am I here? I'm not dead I'm breathing I know that from the pain," I thought collapsing after only a few feet of moving. My hands had already become a sickly damp and sticky mess, a mixture of blood and stagnant water and mold having clung to them and the rest of me as I tried to decide which way would lead me out of here.
Slowly I'd begun to piece together the fact was maybe I was free, that if I could make it out of here I would be able to return to the real world the best to my abilities and never have to kill again that or I could finally die in peace and be lost in this maze forever, my family never knowing what became of me.
An occasional splotch of light let me know I wasn't blind and as I began to see a heavier concentration of light patches I felt my chest swell with hope, almost drowning out the heavy footsteps nearing me, the echo bouncing off the walls as I struggled to me feet, stumbling for the exit. Within seconds I had been knocked back down, laying on my back, dazed and lifeless for moments. "I told them you weren't dead, but surely why would they ever listen to me about science."
The voice hit me like a slap to the face, before me with a crushing weight of his boot on my chest, was of course the one and only Malon. I could see the dis-formed figure of his face, mismatched tones of skin from one Florida resident tan to porcelain white in odd patches on one half and nickel silver hair cut off at sharp shoulders. He was aged with scars and a stern, emotionless mask upon his face. Malon struck me with the truth that he was someone who had once been like me, forced to fight, but with a deep belief in what he was doing was right took the throne and lead it himself.
"Come on now Crest we must get you back to your room before tonight's fight, we need to clean you up," Malon spoke with urgency, a steady hand positioned on the hilt of what looked to be a blade hidden well against his leg.
I simply couldn't do it again, another fight, the man would simply have to let me go or kill me to bring me back, biting down on my lip, tasting a metallic sting of blood on my tongue as I tried to find something I could use to fight, anything from a blunt bone or a simple shoe before I could engage anything. Again he repeated that I must follow him, but all I could do was shake my head waiting for him to lean close enough for me to strike him. My hand had closed around the corroded handle of a wrench. Of course I wasn't aiming to kill, not this time, just hinder enough, for long enough to get away. His face neared mine as he grabbed my shoulder, the knife know exposed ready to make a strike if he needed or maybe just for show as I was the top fighter of his fight ring.
A span of only seconds passed as my hand came at him with the wrench aiming for his head and as it made contact all I could feel was a explosive pain inside my shoulder, my eyes catching a brief glance at the blade buried there as I scrambled past the dazed Malon blood staining my shoulder, but this time it was my own that was covering me as I scrambled to my feet tripping several times as I made a run.
Lungs burning, the world blurred around me, I wasn't aware of how long I had been running, even as I made it to the crowded city of New York I still ran keeping to the shadows of the alley my feet pounding heavily against asphalt. Once more as how this entire day had began I felt myself hit the ground, my knees tearing on the rough pavement and glass of the alley I had turned into, and again I didn't know I was falling. All I had on my mind was I was safe, I wouldn't have to go back they could never find me here. My next enemy was figuring out how to keep myself alive without a constant supply of Hell's blood.
All I smell is grandma's sweet apple cookies-Part 2
My name is Shane "Crest" Dembroy and I have no absolute clue where I am, such a common practice with who I am. This time I don't have the slightest idea, I can hardly think, all I feel is a sharp pounding in the back of my skull and I feel like there's a bat being taken to it every few seconds. My lungs are still burning from the smells of the underground graveyard beneath the arena blocking the scents of wherever I am now, I'm out, but that's all I can smell. Beneath me I have sunken into what I could call Heaven for all I care, it's a bed, not some wood pallets with a thin foam pad thrown on top I grew up on for years at the arena. This was like a cloud that willingly wrapped around my body and sheltered it.
A voice soaked in honey then wrapped in velvet touched my ears, throwing my from my thoughts that I was in Heaven. "Oh thank the lord you're finally awake hun."
My eyes caught the blurry figure of a short old lady, salt and pepper curls sitting atop her head and a rosy pink blouse buttoned up to the second to last button. Her face had a dozen or so wrinkles with a mole right above the left corner of her lip, features sunken into the sagged skin. The most delicate face I'd seen in years the last having been my own grandmother the night before I had been taken. Flying open my mouth kept moving with everything I was trying to say, but no voice to say it. "This bed is so amazing is it a real cloud? How did you find me I can't...Oh god my head, but no just thank you."
A giggle arose from her pale lips as he covered her mouth and looked away. "Slow down there I can't understand what you're saying or trying to. Poor boy you mustn't be able to speak, at least right now at least...Am I right?"
Slowly I nodded my head using my elbows to prop me up a little bit more, wincing as a sharp sting traveled through my shoulder and down my side. "Easy there hun your shoulder needs to rest, you had a rather nasty injury I had to patch it up and I'm not so sure how my stitching after all these years in retirement can hold up."
My thoughts had become focused on one thing and that one thing only. This woman must've been god sent. Not knowing a thing about me she'd picked me from the streets and given me so much already and all I could do was listen to her ramble. I just wanted to thank her. "Thank you ma'am" I mouthed slowly to her, hoping she'd at least catch the thank in what I had mouthed.
Giving yet another chuckle she smiled at me, "Oh of course I couldn't just pass you by in that alley you were so beat up and bloody, I thought you were dead until I got closer."
It lasted for an hour or so, writing out what had happened to her in less gruesome terms, and thanking her. The woman, who's name I learned was Madeline Jones, has left me to rest of giving me a small plate of her special apple cookies and spiced up chicken noodle soup. For now in that small moment I felt loved, I felt at home, and I didn't think about the fact that Malon would be hunting me down again, that I didn't have a ready supply of Hell's blood to keep myself alive.
*Author's Note// During writing this I had many ideas, but especially one basic foundation that guided me. Sadly I wish I could've written it to my standard, but just didn't have the time to really rewrite my draft. Thank you, hope you like it.
(ignore these were drafts) Concrete is a hard and cold place to rest your head, even harder when you're knocked out by it. I don't exactly understand how I ended up in this crumbling building, the old brick walls deteriorating with each year, but kept to a standard fit enough for the activities partaking within side. What I do know is that I've become the crowned jewel, that I'm held up on a pedestal of gold to my keepers. It's clockwork here, the bell rings for the sixteenth time that day, it's sharp hum stinging my already sensitive ears. It's when
draft #2; Everyone thinks I'm dead which isn't the case obviously, yet it's best for most to believe it. I've been missing for four years without a clue for myself as to how I ended up missing in the first place. Four years my life has been in constant danger of being stolen from underneath me,
