Epilogue to "How To Find A Hiccup"
Posted: 22 Oct 2014, 16:07
by Shnuckles
EPILOGUE
THE BEGINNING OF SOMETHING EVIL
:Epilogue:
A man cloaked in dark blue limped along the trail through dark woods. Everything on him hurt from the encounter with Hiccup no longer than three days ago.
A small smile engraved itself onto the man's broken face. Hiccup probably thinks he is so clever and so strong. After all, Hiccup did win the battle.
A battle. One. One battle.
The war hadn't even begun yet.
The man reached his destination. A small shabby wooden hut built for someone who could only be four feet tall. The man had to bend down to knock on the door with his burnt and mutated hand.
An old women opened the door. Her face and hair were as dirty as the dirt the man was standing on. The woman looked up at him with dark and unfeeling eyes. The man was beginning to think this wasn't such a good idea, but he didn't leave.
"Yes?" she drawled.
"Your the witch?" the man asked.
"No. I'm a babysitter."
The man shivered. He knew it was sarcasm, but the thought that anyone would put their children into the hands of this... animal... was horrifying. He was evil, but not hat evil.
"Quit with the sarcasm," the man spat. "I need you to use your black magic for me."
The old woman cocked her head. "Black magic is a dangerous thing. Why do you need it?"
The man bent down, looking her right in the eyes, although his cloak hid his eyes from the woman.
"Someone wronged me, you old hag. I need to teach them what happens when I don't get what I want," the man said, spittle flying onto the old witch.
{[EVIL]}
The old woman led him to the back of her shack. A little pot with red bubbling ooze sat on a patch of dead grass. It was a good 3 yards in all directions until anything green and healthy grew.
"Do you have the... spirit?" the woman asked. The man looked down at her, his back slightly hunched. The man reached into his cloak and pulled out a black mask covered in scales. The woman took it, studied it, and threw it in the pot when she found it acceptable.
She began to chant, her hand hovering over the pot. All of a sudden a storm moved in and the pot began boil. Thunder and lightning clashed and the red ooze splashed over the sides. The man took a step back, but the woman kept chanting. Her eyes had rolled back into her head as she summoned a being from the spirit world. A being so horrible and filled with so much hatred for anyone who dared cross him.
A hand shot out of the pot! It made the man jump. The hand was all bones, no skin, no nothing. But then the blood veins muscle tissue and skin slowly crawled up and around the boney arm. Like a snake climbing a tree.
And then another arm shot out of the pot, this one already wearing its skin. The arms grabbed the sides of the pot and pushed. A head appeared, but there was too much smoke seeping from the pot to see anything but the outline of the body. The woman had stopped her chanting and took several steps back.
Slowly, the being emerged from the pot. He was easily eight-feet tall and muscular. He didn't have the big barrel arms that some of the men on Berk had, but his muscles were more defined. The man knew he would easily be three-times stronger than even Stoick the Vast.
The man stretched his muscles and looked around. He had pitch black hair and dark maroon eyes that calmly swept the terrain. Unfortunately it didn't seem like people wore clothing in the spirit world.
The man in the cloak walked up to him. "What is your name?" he said slowly.
The man looked down at him and gave a mischievous smile, showing a row of perfect white teeth. The man was handsome, the cloaked man had to give him that.
"I am known to Berk only as-" he paused, seemingly for dramatic affect. Like his name was a name never to be spoken by any mouth. "-Scale."
The cloaked man wasn't convinced. "And what, Scale, do you want to do to Hiccup Haddock?"
Scale's smile vanished and turned into a sneer. "I want to ram a sword right through his dragon-loving heart!"
The cloaked man smiled and pulled back his cloak with burnt hands. One side of his face was bandaged, including his eye. The other half was badly burnt. His nose was all but completely gone and his lips were torn, showing his gums.
"Well then, Scale, let me introduce myself-" the man held out his hand. "-I'm Dane Haddock, adoptive son of Hiccup Haddock."
Scales face turned into confusion, and then to anger. He shot out his hand and grabbed Dane's throat, squeezing it hard. He picked him up with one hand with ease until he was at eye level. But Dane smiled, showing broken and missing teeth. "And I want to kill Hiccup Haddock!"
Scale cocked his head and set him back down. "What?"
"Scale, do you hate Hiccup?" Dane asked. Scale nodded. "Then I offer a friendship. One solely based on... getting rid of our... common enemy."
Scale looked down at Dane's waiting hand. He smiled at him and shook it. "It would be my pleasure."
"Scale-" Dane said, "-This is the start of something very, very evil."
:Epilogue:
A man cloaked in dark blue limped along the trail through dark woods. Everything on him hurt from the encounter with Hiccup no longer than three days ago.
A small smile engraved itself onto the man's broken face. Hiccup probably thinks he is so clever and so strong. After all, Hiccup did win the battle.
A battle. One. One battle.
The war hadn't even begun yet.
The man reached his destination. A small shabby wooden hut built for someone who could only be four feet tall. The man had to bend down to knock on the door with his burnt and mutated hand.
An old women opened the door. Her face and hair were as dirty as the dirt the man was standing on. The woman looked up at him with dark and unfeeling eyes. The man was beginning to think this wasn't such a good idea, but he didn't leave.
"Yes?" she drawled.
"Your the witch?" the man asked.
"No. I'm a babysitter."
The man shivered. He knew it was sarcasm, but the thought that anyone would put their children into the hands of this... animal... was horrifying. He was evil, but not hat evil.
"Quit with the sarcasm," the man spat. "I need you to use your black magic for me."
The old woman cocked her head. "Black magic is a dangerous thing. Why do you need it?"
The man bent down, looking her right in the eyes, although his cloak hid his eyes from the woman.
"Someone wronged me, you old hag. I need to teach them what happens when I don't get what I want," the man said, spittle flying onto the old witch.
{[EVIL]}
The old woman led him to the back of her shack. A little pot with red bubbling ooze sat on a patch of dead grass. It was a good 3 yards in all directions until anything green and healthy grew.
"Do you have the... spirit?" the woman asked. The man looked down at her, his back slightly hunched. The man reached into his cloak and pulled out a black mask covered in scales. The woman took it, studied it, and threw it in the pot when she found it acceptable.
She began to chant, her hand hovering over the pot. All of a sudden a storm moved in and the pot began boil. Thunder and lightning clashed and the red ooze splashed over the sides. The man took a step back, but the woman kept chanting. Her eyes had rolled back into her head as she summoned a being from the spirit world. A being so horrible and filled with so much hatred for anyone who dared cross him.
A hand shot out of the pot! It made the man jump. The hand was all bones, no skin, no nothing. But then the blood veins muscle tissue and skin slowly crawled up and around the boney arm. Like a snake climbing a tree.
And then another arm shot out of the pot, this one already wearing its skin. The arms grabbed the sides of the pot and pushed. A head appeared, but there was too much smoke seeping from the pot to see anything but the outline of the body. The woman had stopped her chanting and took several steps back.
Slowly, the being emerged from the pot. He was easily eight-feet tall and muscular. He didn't have the big barrel arms that some of the men on Berk had, but his muscles were more defined. The man knew he would easily be three-times stronger than even Stoick the Vast.
The man stretched his muscles and looked around. He had pitch black hair and dark maroon eyes that calmly swept the terrain. Unfortunately it didn't seem like people wore clothing in the spirit world.
The man in the cloak walked up to him. "What is your name?" he said slowly.
The man looked down at him and gave a mischievous smile, showing a row of perfect white teeth. The man was handsome, the cloaked man had to give him that.
"I am known to Berk only as-" he paused, seemingly for dramatic affect. Like his name was a name never to be spoken by any mouth. "-Scale."
The cloaked man wasn't convinced. "And what, Scale, do you want to do to Hiccup Haddock?"
Scale's smile vanished and turned into a sneer. "I want to ram a sword right through his dragon-loving heart!"
The cloaked man smiled and pulled back his cloak with burnt hands. One side of his face was bandaged, including his eye. The other half was badly burnt. His nose was all but completely gone and his lips were torn, showing his gums.
"Well then, Scale, let me introduce myself-" the man held out his hand. "-I'm Dane Haddock, adoptive son of Hiccup Haddock."
Scales face turned into confusion, and then to anger. He shot out his hand and grabbed Dane's throat, squeezing it hard. He picked him up with one hand with ease until he was at eye level. But Dane smiled, showing broken and missing teeth. "And I want to kill Hiccup Haddock!"
Scale cocked his head and set him back down. "What?"
"Scale, do you hate Hiccup?" Dane asked. Scale nodded. "Then I offer a friendship. One solely based on... getting rid of our... common enemy."
Scale looked down at Dane's waiting hand. He smiled at him and shook it. "It would be my pleasure."
"Scale-" Dane said, "-This is the start of something very, very evil."
A note to you all
Not the epilogue you guys were expecting? Oh well, I hoped you guys enjoyed it anyway! The next chapter in The Legend Of Scale is underway! I don't know when the first chapter will be posted, but it will be named after THIS chapter: The Beginning of Something Evil.
SHNUCKLES OUT! PEACE!...
SHNUCKLES OUT! PEACE!...
, so perhaps I could try some ideas from the sentence above that I typed. 
. The first story is, well, garbage, in my opinion. The second one is much more acceptable in plot and how I wrote it. Plus the grammar doesn't completely suck. This third story should be the best, seeing as I've had plenty of practice in perfecting the way I wright (I also have unfinished and unpublished works). 
I'll try to read the first one.