stuntie_jed | Entries tagged with khamul

Bright lights blossomed over Wellington, flowers of color and sound. The spent remains of phosphorus and carbon winked out long before they hit the waters of the harbour. The citizens of the city stood outside in the warm summer night, watching and cheering as 2007 was welcomed in festive style. Small boats dotted the protected waters.

But the fireworks shared the sky with other beings, those that were unknown in the modern world. A prehistoric monster lost in time, perhaps, the rest of its kind long disappeared. The people reveling and drinking in the parks would tell themselves that if they had seen it. Others, fortune tellers or other sensitives, might recognize it as an ancient evil, foreign to that land and that world. But those with the ability to discern its nature stayed inside that night.

The dark thing feared the light at first, thinking them some device that had been turned against him. But he soared into the upper airs, observing, noting that the explosions did not change to follow him. He smiled, concluding that they were some entertainment for all that they seemed a wizard’s trick.

The beast dove towards the water, grasping the boats, and pulling them and their hapless passengers far into the air before releasing them to fall back with the remnants of the fiery flowers.

They turned inland, swooping low and the people dancing on one of the high roof top gardens cheered and waved, perhaps thinking that he was part of the entertainment.

Their enjoyment turned to horror when he snatched the first handful of them, allowing his steed to rend them as it wished. The beast wanted to feed, but he controlled it, going back for more. The scent of fear and terror upheld him, racing through his being and spreading peace inside him like a benison.

He played with them, finding other rooftops, until he tired of the game and allowed the beast to eat. His audience had fled by that point and the blood soaked into the ground unobserved.

Current Mood: triumphant
Current Location: Wellington Harbour

In the deepest part of the night, the dark thing shook himself awake. He had been hoarding his strength against the effects of the foul weed, but tonight the Master called him and he must answer.

Losing his pursuer was an easy matter for they had assigned a Man, not an Elf, and it was simple to disappear into a large crowd of people exiting a public event. He did not join the boisterous shouts, but he was attired as they and the sense of his hunter faded in his mind.

When he was certain that no one marked his passage, he turned his steps to the abandoned house where he had first found knowledge of this changed world.

The place was as dilapidated as it had been before and he slid over the fence into the back garden. The noxious weed grew thick around the pond, but as it was not inside him so he was able to withstand its effects. He knelt beside the pond.

“I have come as thou hath commanded.”

The pond rippled in the still night. Darkness and chill airs emanated from it.

Bring me a life, however insignificant, and I will succor thee.

Khamûl bowed his head low and then rose, his nostrils flaring as he sought the scent of living blood. He found a small lizard scurrying amongst the rocks surrounding the pool. He snared it with his fingers and held it up, gazing at it dispassionately while he fed on its fear, for even so tiny a brain could recognize undiluted evil. He dropped it into the pond.

The waters roiled, becoming cloudy, noisome smells sprung from the water, and loathsome lights appeared within it. The waters geysered up, sulfurous and hot, and the ground about the water shook.

Khamûl stood unmoved by the display and soon he saw some monstrous form struggling for birth within the waters. It was disgorged at last, a beast fell and savage, ripping its way into the world from its unholy birth.

The Wraith caught its gaze before it could stretch its wings to take flight, and the beast stilled, frozen in fear of its lawful master.

Hide thy steed until such times as thou might pour terror on the lives of these paltry Men.

“As thou commands, so shall it be done,” Khamûl replied, bowing.

The pond stilled and the night was as quiet as though no malevolent presence had ever marred its tranquility.

The dark thing turned to his trembling mount, slipping on to the beast with the ease of a familiar motion. The beast stretched its wings at last, gathering its muscles as it clawed its way into the sky. When they reached the upper airs in the chill wind, Khamûl turned his steed to fly over the city, swooping low over places that interested him, but not yet close enough that the wretched humans might discover the new threat. But they passed their lives ignorant of the destruction that spied on their lands.

When he was satisfied, Khamûl flew the beast across the dark waters of the harbor, to an island lost by itself in the straits. Here he bade the beast to linger, surviving on sea birds and dead fish unless its master should call. After he was certain that the beast would obey, having gone into its dull mind and planting limitless fear within it, Khamûl ordered it to fly him back to the city.

The Wraith returned to his dwelling place and the beast returned to its exile on the cold island.

Current Mood: cold

The days are winding towards spring, but the nights are still chill and the deck is in the cold breeze. I hunch over my tea, the thick clay mug warming my fingers. They’re cold, but it’s an ordinary sort of cold from being out in the weather, not the bloody creeping numbness from before.

I never featured myself as some new-agey git, drinking weed tea. Specially not some weed that isn’t supposed to exist. I’d put that up to Viggo, not me. But here I sit. It’s a relief knowing the fucking wrong thing in my brain isn’t mine. The black fucker is there, dangerous though.

I’m trying to make it easier for them, being out where they can see me. I don’t know if it’s more than one, but I know they’re watching me. Faramir perhaps, because it was Dave that told me they had to be sure the Wraith was contained.

Faramir . . . I’d like to meet him. Or Aragorn or Elrond. Or any of them, really. The heroes. I’ve never been cast as the hero, don’t have the face for it and I’ve been bloody happy doing what I’m doing. Being someone that Pete can depend on. I never would have guessed that it would turn out to be so fucking dangerous.

Dave asked, but I couldn’t remember taking a trip to Craig’s old house. But he told me there’s a portal fucking Middle Earth back there. Which is tilted beyond saying. And so’s the rest of what he said, the Elf queen nodding the whole time in agreement. Surreal fucking moments.

His story explained everything that’s been happening to me, damn him. Morgoth trying to tear holes in reality, using us to help him. I shiver, sooked. Balrogs . . . wargs . . . Bad enough, but the only thing worse than what I am would be Sauron himself.

Sadwyn

Tears track down my face and I can’t stop them. He can’t ever come back here, not ever be near me again. Not with this thing in my head and him being Eldarion. That would get Morgoth what he wanted, to break the line of kings by killing Aragorn’s son. My little boy would be a target for them.

I could end it, take myself out of the fight, deny him. Would that keep my son safe though? The actors who played bad shit are still out there. No, I’m in this fight and I’ll stick it.

Sipping the last of my tea, I feel the peace it gives me flowing through my veins. Learning the truth was a fucking nightmare, but I’m not alone anymore. I hoist my mug to whoever it is in the shadows, guarding against me.

The dark thing retreated, waiting, hoarding his strength against the insidious effects of the foul herb. He had not anticipated the interference of the Elf-witch, and his anger spread and grew cold as he deliberated his vengeance against her. Khamûl had obeyed the command to cause death and chaos, but could no longer act on his own. He sent out a small tendril of thought, a plea for aid.

Current Mood: determined

Jed was on edge again, something about Christian just seemed to bother him, and he was still cold despite the insulated costume that Pete had wardrobe cook up. But he was doing his best to focus.

He had gone back to the storage area to satisfy Christian's latest whim, bloody git, looking for some things from Heavenly Creatures. There was someone else moving around in here, bloody warehouse, where no one should be. He followed the sounds, wondering why he didn't call out. Had to be a Weta employee.

Cate had not wanted to come, but Galadriel had eventually talked her into it, curious to see if any of the so-called props at Weta had taken on the properties of the objects they were modeled after, as Nenya had. She paused when she heard someone coming toward her, and turned with narrowed eyes to see who it was. Something felt ... off, but she could not quite place what.

( This world is not for you )

Current Mood: indescribable

Trying to get the pre-vis done for both The Lovely Bones and Halo at the same time is messing with my head. But I asked for it and it’s time I moved on to more responsibility. I’ve spent the last two days in the pre-vis room with Christian, trying to work out the blocking for the murder. Pete said we’ve got to be tasteful about it and we both sorta stared at him, wondering when aliens took him over.

Christian’s been stomping because I won’t take my jumper off, but I’m so bloody cold all the time, I’ve got to bundle up. He mutters about casting a fat man in the part but I ignore him.

We just can’t seem to get the angle right and we’re both growling, so we agree to get some coffee.

( I bust out of the door and nearly plow over the mad genius himself. )

Current Mood: annoyed

I wake up on the floor again. It's getting worse, the losing time. I get up, my muscles protesting, fuck, I shouldn't feel this grotty, I'm in decent shape. I thought I was. The mirror gives me no joy, I look like I'm still pissed.

Back to the kitchen, make an extra-strong pot of brew, hoping to jump start my mind. This has got to fucking stop. I don't know what else to try though. Everything else seems like a fucking fairy tale.

Ah, fuck, I've tried every else, might as well take a trip to la-la land. I haul out the phone book and search the business listings. Madame Delores. She'll do.

( No appointment necessary. )

Current Mood: scared
Current Music: Beatles - Carry That Weight

I put the paper down, may hands shaking, my heart thumping uncomfortably in my chest. I can't bloody well breathe and I wonder if I'm stroking or my ticker's finally had enough and giving up. I put my head in my hands.

Five more homeless men have been found dead, exhibiting the same symptoms as those in previous incidents. The police continue to offer no solutions, but this reporter was able to detect that the men had all been staying at the Ghuznee Street shelter and soup kitchen.

I helped Pete at that kitchen, not three days ago. Nobody said a squirt about it then, so it must've happened after I was there. I shudder, suddenly fucking sooked.

How the fuck is this happening to me? Why does death seem to follow me around?

It's hard to ignore it this time. Dylan did himself, that estate agent had some weird disease, but these homeless blokes? It's still fucking summertime.

I have casual contact with someone, and then they die. Maybe I didn't need a doctor after all, maybe I need another kind of help. I've done so much cursing God since my life fell apart . . .
( maybe He heard and is returning the favor )

Current Mood: confused
Current Music: Talking Heads - Burning Down the House

The dark thing is fascinated by the possibilities for destruction in this world. He has learned that the small box depicts tales, some true, some not. But always there are many ways to cause death.

He has been acquiring knowledge of the ways of this world, in preparation for the hunt. The deaths of the weaklings in this society have been easily achieved, using only his natural abilities. But to kill the others, the ones with might, the ones his new lord opposes, that will require more strength than he has in this world, alone without his brothers.

The Númenórean, who he sensed weeks ago, must be found, and also the one who smells like a horselord and yet is not. There are others, he senses their presence on the edge of his mind, not clear enough yet for him to track.

( The darkness goes back to the place where he sensed the gathering of power, )

I hate being between projects, always have, but living here has made the twitchiness worse. I don't do well sitting for long, but there's nothing to distract me here. Pete's back in town, so I take off looking for him. Maybe he can find something to keep me occupied.

Plus the new place seems to be coming together, so I need to tell him about the place. It's pretty close to WETA anyway. I just need to bounce a few thoughts off him, need a new direction in my life, I can feel it.

( I nod at the receptionist, asking if he's in, and then I head back. )

Current Mood: cheerful
Current Music: Joe Cocker - With A Little Help From My Friends

The body was smaller than he is used to, but seemed well put together, adequate. The place is harder. The light, there is so much light. Even the stars, which he hates for what they represent, even the stars are veiled by the light.

And the air, the darkness sniffs, trying to orient himself. But the air is dead, tells him nothing. But more than dead . . . it is poisoned. A smile twitches his lips.

He had answered a call, half heard, half felt. Not from his lord, but from his lord’s lord. Duty nonetheless, and allegiance owed. Power to be had, to be taken.

He reaches out for his brothers, for together they are a force that not many can withstand. But he cannot find them, no echo of their spirits, no rumour of their passing in shadows on the living. So he is alone.

( But there is strength in him still and he will do what is required of him. )