Fiction:The Living Blades

''Dark. Cold. Constant danger. These things I grew up with, these things I know well.''

''From my very birth it was only a matter of time before they came, silent as the night wind, to take me away. Away from everything I knew, everything I cared for. And they brought me here.''

''For years, I trained like the others. Learned to fight, to hunt, to kill. For thirteen long years, I became a living embodiment of death, a nightmare walking, a terror loose upon the universe. I became a living blade.''

''Now, in the shadow of the Fleetfather's great triumph, my time has come. My first chance to taste the blood of a real foe, to drink in their fear as my blades danced across their throats.''

Deep in the jungle of the world that would, some 2000 years later, become known as Se'Ra'To, a figure ran between trees. Although it ran at full speed, it barely disturbed a leaf in its passage. A curious bird swooped down to get a closer look, but there was only a ripple in the bushes, and the figure was gone. It had been running like that for hours now, and it needed to rest, but it would not rest yet. It knew that its legs could carry it for days on end if needed, and this run was nothing new. But it was not running away; it was running toward.

''Concentrate. Lose yourself in the chase. Become one with your ancestors. Let their strength guide you.''

The figure ran on.

Within another hour, the figure reached the edge of the forests, and looked upon that which it would destroy. A large industrial complex, home to some fifteen thousand workers, sat like a bloated parasite atop a great hill. A steady stream of smoke billowed from its uppermost towers, and trees by the dozen were being cut down to feed the machines inside. Although it could not see inside, the figure knew what was being made. Weapons.

''Look. Closer. There, above the doorway- no, too small. Perhaps there? I could never reach that.''

The figure settled into a crouch as it searched for a way in.

''Hm... That will do. Yes, that will do well.''

Finding an opening, the figure ran. Across barren fields, over thin streams and trails left after logs were dragged across the muddy soil. Although the figure stood tall, easily three meters, it left barely a mark on the soil. A vehicle rolled by, and the figure leapt over it, landing on a stump on the other side, and ran on. Half an hour later, the figure reached the weakness he had seen: a section of the wall where an accident had left the metal skin of the building dent and deformed. Night was falling rapidly, and the figure saw no more need to stay hidden. Slowly, the figure began to coalesce, as if out of a dream. Reptilian in appearance, the figure was dressed fully in black, in a skintight suit that covered most of his body. Onto this, several plates were affixed in the areas most likely to be hit; the chest, shoulders, knees and pelvis. Upon its wrists, vambraces sat, shaped in such a way that they could only house weapons. The creature also wore a smooth, reflective helmet that obscured all emotion. The only defining feature of the head were two great spikes growing out the back of the creature's skull, granting him the visage of a daemon newly ascended from Hell itself. Four arms branched out of the creature's musclebound torso, two ending in powerful, clawed hands, the other two in vicious blades. The creature's tail was similarly armed, but for a ring of glands at the base of the weapon. The creature sighed, as night took over from day.

And so, it begins.

With a deft flick, the creature extended a blade mounted upon his wrist, a long, elegant blade of polished metal that glimmered with the energies coursing through it. Quickly, with the skill of a surgeon, the creature cut away a section of the wall, and slipped inside.

From within, the building was far uglier. Fat vats of pulp bubbled and spat as chemical treaters were poured in, and a thick, gelatinous slush poured out of valves and overflow pipes. A rancid stench, somewhere between rotten meat and sulphur, permeated the air, and the creature had to catch its breath to stop it from gagging.

''The hunt begins. But where to look? Ah, there you are. Commend your soul to your God, for you shall meet them soon.''

Across a row of vats sat an office room, and inside, a figure enjoyed conditioned comfort while all else around him suffered. This act alone was no crime worthy of death, but it served only to feed the creature's resentment. Grasping an overhanging pipeline, the creature swung himself up so that it could grasp the pipe with both arms and legs. In this way, it crawled along the pipe, much as a skink does, until it was suspended directly above the office.

''A guard to the south, three more by that generator, another two coming off duty. The Ancestors know how many in the guardhouse. Hmpf, perhaps a challenge? We shall see.''

And with that, the figure dropped, releasing his feet first so that it landed, crouched, upon the figure's desk. Activating its blades, the creature decapitated its stunned target, grabbing the head with one hand while firing a device at the door. A lance of blue energy blasted the lock clean off, and the creature ran. The guards massed, hearing the commotion, but the creature was upon them. Spinning like a dervish, the creature's blades tore through three guards, before a fourth took a shot. A field of flat lightning sparked where the shot hit, deflecting it. Turning, the creature regarded this new attacker, and, watching the guard's companions move forward, considered its options.

So be it.

As the guards fired, the creature lashed out in a hurricane of blades, both powered wrist-blades and the three mighty scimitars upon its limbs. In a second, weapons clattered to the ground, followed closely by severed hands, heads and legs. Sensing a large group of guards to its rear, the creature ran for its hole in the wall. Leaping clear over vats, the creature had no difficulty escaping its pursuers, and slipped through the hole.

With its mission complete, the creature found itself running back through the forest, its strange camouflage making it near invisible, its feet barely touching the ground. In a clearing, there was a small pod. This was the vessel that had carried the creature to the world, and would now take him back off of it. Settling itself inside, the creature deigned to take off its mask, revealing fierce, lizard-like features. A learned man would recognize the creature as a grown male Fordanta, and a prime physical example of the species. With the severed head and his helmet stowed, the Fordanta engaged the pod's thrusters, and closed the door.

The frustrated guards on the ground could only watch as the pod lifted clear of the planet's surface, reaching the atmosphere long before they could respond.

''Cold. Darkness. The only things left for you, cur.''

''At last, I came for you. Silent as the night air, stealing your head away. Away from its rightful pedestal, to where it will now reside for eternity.''

''Two years you have plagued this world, as your men strip the land bare to feed your grotesque designs. Two years that all your life's work led up to.''

''Now, your head rests in my shadowy grasp, with your memory forever stained by my triumph. It is true, I am an initiate no more. I am Ri'So'Va'Ke. Indeed, some day I will be known as Ri'Kar'D.''