“How dare you.” His hair was long, falling well below his
shoulders. His beard, black, with several specks of grey
beginning to show. His eyes glared out from heavy brows,
red and fire filled. His fangs, nearly three inches in length,
a sign of great age, and his nails, fully extended, showed
the scratches and scars from hundreds of battles.
“Your time has come to an end.” She said simply.
“And you, little girl,” he said, lowering his voice, into a
calmer tone, “you would take all of this from me?” He
stretched out his arms and twirled slowly, indicating all the
treasures that surrounded him. A large wooden chest
dominated one corner of the room. It overflowed with
gold pieces, jewels and other precious items. Artwork of
the Great Masters covered his walls. Plush oriental rugs
covered the floors, and intricate tapestries hung on the
walls. Scattered about the room were a multitude of
weapons and implements of torture, both antique and of
the day. Some of them she recognized immediately, others
she could only speculate as to their grisly applications.
“Do you think you are the one,” he asked her. “Do you
really believe? After all that have tried, you are the one to
take me down?”
She knew that the power of his voice was one of his
strongest tools, so before he could say another word, she
launched her attack. She flew directly at him, her arms
extended, her talons readied. He tried to turn her aside
with a well-timed fist, but the energy of her assault carried
her right through the blow. Her right hand caught his
shoulder, tearing both sleeve and flesh. Her left found only
air. As she went past, he kicked at her savagely, catching
her in the ribs, propelling her across the room. She hit the
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