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Malice Rancor

approaching end

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Well this is my first story so feel free to tell me what you like and don't like.

Approaching the End - Doom Influenced Story

Weak yet restless, Grehl Corvin, a now lone marine, stared out into the hell-stricken fray. While standing very still behind a broken window of a building that was at one time a hospital. With an infernal view such as this, a hopeless sight that you could not escape, he began to wonder if there was really a reason to survive anymore. If miles of empty land did not stretch across this dead world, then it was because hordes of demons were seen searching for another victim, one or the other, it was never comforting. Those beasts would search for an eternity even if there was nothing left; they would continue their endless journey despite where it led them. That's the strange thing about them, they don't need food to survive, but yet they yearn to kill and that is all it seems they ever want. Their bodies have no need for food or sleep, but their minds seem to need to satisfaction of destruction. Just as our minds need sleep, just as our minds need rest from the tight grip of our reality, theirs need to feed that malicious and endless hunger that implores them to keep searching, to keep killing, relentlessly.

Sill staring hopelessly and thinking about the nature of these malign creatures, Grehl began to think of his mind's condition as well. It had almost been a week since he had last fallen asleep, since he last got to close his eyes and dream or even felt the need to eat. It seems that nothing will be left unscathed, they have scarred even reality itself, if felt as if it was all melting away, as if nothing ever existed in the first place. The thought of having a dream or even a nightmare, to fall asleep and let go of it all, to leave everything behind, was tempting enough for Grehl to consider trying to knock himself unconscious.

Now gazing into the burning sky, he watched the infernal flames dance like hell-bent savages above his stolid eyes, while thinking of his relationship to the nature of the hellspawn. "While I watch them I almost feel like I am one of them now, I have no fear of these creatures anymore, I no longer feel the distance between myself and them. In a way I feel that I can relate to their undying hunger now. I used to feel that we were on different sides, and we were, but my side doesn't seem real anymore. I have nothing left to save, nothing left to fight for, my life is as torn as these wretched lands that I stare at now. They killed everyone I ever cared about, but my eyes are empty now. I feel that if I do not fight, if I do not press on, I will succumb to the pain that torments them. Without killing, without pressing on, what would I do? Without the hordes of demons would there be anything left for me, would there be anything left at all? To them everything must be like this, to them there is nothing else, nothing but pain and the ritual of combat that makes one somewhat oblivious to this hell. And just like them, combat that keeps me from feeling alone, alone with my thoughts and sullen pain.

Just as Grehl began to look away, a screech echoed through the ruptures around him. The sound of metal ornaments could be heard jingling after the firm pounds of running footsteps. Along with the quick and short sounds of sharp metal objects briefly hitting the concrete ground while they would slide across it. At this point it was obvious what they were, Warmungers. They always hunt in packs and after one finds suitable prey it alerts the others with a brief and intense screech. They are easy to take down but are very agile and dangerous when in close combat, and at no point will you ever see the whole pack all at once.

Grehl quickly picked up his Plasma Rifle and turned around looking the room over. Warmungers are very cunning and will try to close in on you as much as possible before striking. Sometimes one will divert the attention of the prey while another comes in behind and finds a place to hide from them, while slowly getting closer, using what hiding places are present at that time. You always needed to keep moving your eyes and body from side to side to make sure they don't start trying to sneak up on you.

The footsteps and the sounds of metal came to a halt, and Grehl began to slowly back up against the wall to give himself further protection from the pack. And just as he could feel himself press up against the wall, a loud clap cut through the air like thunder. The wall behind him began to rumble and pushed him onto the ground as if something powerful hit it from the otherside. His Rifle had also fallen to the ground from his hands next to a scorched Warmunger. It was about 5'5 with a wide chest and slim hips. Ornaments made from scraps decorated its botched clothing. Its face had all types of metal piercings, and a crude axe that was in its left hand. The axe seemed to have been crafted from scraps coming from this very hospital itself.

Grabbing his Rifle, Grehl quickly jumped up and turned around, now facing the wall. The wall was still there, just slightly warped from the rubble that hit it from the building that used to be standing next to it. Off in the distance he caught sight of an enormous monstrosity, an extremely feared and powerful demon known none other than the Holocaust. Fifteen feet tall, weighing around five tons, with eyesight that would put a hawk to shame and a roar that could literally kill a lion, or any animal that wasn't wearing special armor. It wielded a huge infernal axe with its left hand and a biological cannon adorned its right arm. Being that it was so dense it wasn't very fast, although its inverted knees gave it the ability to jump about twelve feet high and about twenty feet in distance. This was no time to ponder what he was up against though, so Grehl made his way out of the building to confront this one demon onslaught.

Once in the open, Grehl once again caught sight of the Holocaust and began making his run towards him. This fucker was at least a mile away, and was already unloading huge balls of black and crimson energy right towards him. Moving left and right, the ground blew out chunks of rocks and soil at him from both side were the blasts had made contact. There wasn't really any threat at the moment, there was more than ample time to avoid the threat, but it is never good idea to stay out in open terrain very long.

Four minutes had passed and the Holocaust was almost close enough to take out with what ammo Grehl had left. The demon bent down and let out a roar towards him, blowing up dirt and scraps in his direction. The few pieces that hit him weren't a concern, but it was beginning to be difficult to actually see the damn thing. And before he knew it, the ground around him shook as the sound of an immense thump behind him caught his attention. Now turning around he could see the Holocaust with its axe lifted over its head, just about to make the first and what would be the last blow. Grehl backed up and strafed to the left with his finger firmly pressed on the Plasma Rifle's trigger, blasting the Holocaust mid-center. The demon swung its axe to the side, only inches from Grehl's face, while using the momentum from the swing to turn its body around with its cannon face to face with the marine. Grehl quickly started to back-up while moving to the right to avoid the blasts. The beast began to walk towards Grehl with its deep red eyes fixed right on him and a wicked snarl on its face while pumping out its huge energy blasts as if it was fighting a squadron of men.

"Whoa" Grehl thought to himself. "If I slip up once, move the wrong direction just one time, one of these are going to hit me dead on. Hopefully it doesn't roar again, it is already hard enough to see those blasts or the beast shooting them without being close by. I can adjust my visor to see him better, but I can only see the damn energy blasts in the mode that it is currently in, anything else and this will become much more difficult."

It wouldn't have mattered if the beast stirred up the dirt again with one of its wailing roars, because the winds began to pick up, as they do often now. Dirt and scraps flew through the sky and around Grehl like a visible plaque. At this point there wasn't much of a choice but to switch modes on his visor to see the Holocaust. He adjusted the helm with just a few verbal commands, and pointed his Rifle at the demon once again and started shooting. Luckily the Holocausts cannon pulls its arm back each time it fires. It would be to hard to judge when to dodge a projectile if there is too much distance between him and the cannon, so staying up close was the best bet. When your close to the cannon you would need to move out of the way immediately after each time the force from the blast pushed its arm back.

Grehl began to use his tactic while keeping his Rifle dead on the Holocaust and firing constantly. Only a few minutes later the demon let out a terrifying roar as its body imploded strain across the battlefield. Small pieces of its torn flesh and its blood were carried away by the blaring winds. Its sudden death was somewhat unexpected, but much appreciated non-the less.

It was time to move out of the open terrain now. Grehl explored a few more destroyed buildings until the winds died down. He looked out as far as he could see and began to make his journey to the next area where supplies would most likely be present. To survive, ammo must not be scarce, for long.

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Haven't seen you around in a while, malice.

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Yeah I went back to spending all my time playing EQ. That game is so tedious and at the same time so addictive that I feel like a masochist when I play it.

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