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fucknofortunato · 7 years

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Chapter 1? Nikhl and Diehm

The diner was full of people. Well, about as full as a diner in the middle of nowhere at early noon could be. So it was about ten people in a restaurant that could sit maybe fifty with those ten spread across it and most of them being chatty. This was the scene Edward walked in to as he looked around for an empty table. Stumbling through akwardly as he could without giving in to the urge to run away, he succeeds in his mission and sits at a table right in the middle of the establishment. “We normally seat people as they wait by the door…” spoke a middle aged waitress by the name of Jenny. “Oh jeez! Sorry, I can just go wait or-” “Relax,” she commanded. “You’re fine. What do you want kid?”

“Uhh,” he began to speak as he fumbled with his cell phone. “I’d like strawberry pancakes with bacon… An order of waffles, hash browns, and sausage… And two glasses of orange juice.” Jenny scribbled things into her notepad. “That it?” Edward looked up, pretending to think as his stomach growled. “Uhh..yeah. That will…do it… That’s all I need… Good good.” Jenny didn’t seem to flinch from her unnerved attitude and simply said “Alright.” As she walked away, Edward sighed and quickly tapped away at his phone. He mumbled a bit to himself as he typed the following message: The order has been placed. Then he waited. It was about fifteen minutes later when the food arrived. Smiling and nodding, he accepted it all in front of Jenny. Once she walked away, he quickly shuffled the food around, setting the table for two others to sit across from him. Then he proceeded to wait some more. With no food or drink in front of him. About fifteen more minutes and a lot of awkward glances later, two men walked into the diner. One was slender and the other sported a squarer frame. Quillard Diehm removed his hat as Tristen Nikhl pulled on his jacket and stiffened his collar. The two walked over to the table and sat down, Diehm sitting with the pancakes, Nikhl sitting to his right with the waffles. “Th-thanks for meeting me guys!” Edward choked out. “Yeah, sure,” Tristen happily replied as he bit into a sausage. “Oh how I missed eating food proper.” Edward looked confusedly to Quillard. “Don’t worry about it. Hey, aren’t you hungry?” he asked in his usual business tone. “Your messages made it clear to order only your food. Can I order now?” “What?! Of course,” Quillard asked, the look of shock on his face. “Why did you say that, Tristen?” “Gotta establish dominance,” he smiled, bits of waffle escaping his mouth. Quillard shook his head, jaded with his partner’s usual carefree antics. “Look, I gotta use the head. Order your self some food and I’ll be right back and we’ll discuss why you called us over brunch.” And with that, Quillard got up and left towards the bathroom. One awkward conversation later, Edward successfully ordered food from Jenny. It was a close race, but Quillard managed to make it back to the table before the omelette was ready and delivered. “Alright, so what’s the situation?” asked Diehm. “Well, Mr. Diehm, you see, hey are you…more tan now?” “No. Continue.” “Uhh… Anyway, my friends and I were playing in the woods the other week,” Edward started. “Aren’t you a bit old for that? What are you, twenty-two?” Tristen Nikhl interrupted. “Twenty-four, we do some LARPing.” “Oh, nerds.” “Shut up, Tristen. Also explain it to me later. Please, Mr. Cainso, continue,” beckoned Diehm. “Well they vanished as we played. I went back to the parking lot and when i couldn’t find their cars, I assumed they had just ditched me by mistake.” “How do you accidental abandon?” inquired Nikhl. “Well, I’m kinda…forgetable. Sometimes I miss out on plans cause I didn’t hear them and such. So anyway, I left and went home. I didn’t hear from them after that and I started to get worried. So I went back to the woods and then I found them but they were acting really weird. I kinda freaked out a bit and tried to get one of them to come home but she threw me totally into the air and I had a tree knock the wind out of me. So I think they must have summoned a demon when we LARPed and now he’s controlling them!” Quillard and Tristen exchanged glances. Tristen held up one of his hands, the back of it showing to Edward. The blue circle on it glowed luminously and Edward gasped. “Please don’t tell me any of them was sporting this.” “N-no,” he stuttered. “Are you guys demons…?” Quillard choked back a scowl as Tristen laughed. “Nah nah, we’re better than that. I eat demons.” “I’m just really good at killing them,” spoke Quillard. Edward noticed the wedding band on Diehm’s hand. “Does she hunt too?” he said pointing. They both looked at the ring, unsure of where he was pointing. Tristen grimaced and Quillard placed his hand over the ring. “No,” he said and forced a laugh. “Are you married too?” Edward asked Nikhl. “You could say I’m married to the job. Which is mainly keeping this guy alive!” he said with a hearty chuckle. “Look, let’s focus here. Did you see any marks they used?” asked Diehm. “Well… I got this weird burn when she threw me…” Edward rolled back his sleeve and revealed a burned symbol. The laughter at the table immediately stopped. Quillard picked up his hat and grimaced. “I hate witches.”

#forty writes #i am forty #but hopefully i will write forty things #i guess #demon hunters #quillby #tristan #nikhl and diehm

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fucknofortunato · 8 years

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Nikhl and Diehm [Prelude - A Little Change]

Quillard Diehm sat on a moderately comfortable chair of recommendable build. A hanging light above him, gently swung back and forth, warming his scalp. His hat was sitting on a rusty steel table a few feet away and there were several men standing around, looking at him. One in particular was cracking his knuckles and preparing to redo the wraps on his hands. His old wraps were sweaty and stained with blood. The same blood that dripped down Quillard’s face and stained the rope that held him in place to the chair. His hands rested against the back of the lovely wooden chair, useless to him and binded with rope. Mr. Diehm was a captive and being beaten for reasons unknown.

“You’re surprisingly resilent. Must be the experience of hunting that’s toughened you up to survive a round of my punishment,” spoke the looming wide figure. The new wraps around his hands were just about done.

“Oh, is that what that was?” spoke Quillard, embelishing his english accent. “Here I was thinking I just had a shitty spa massager. Is that the right term, Seymore?”

“Break another one.” A look of terror went across Quillard’s face as he looked over to the thug standing next to the table where his jacket and hat lay. Slowly, the man reached into the jacket’s pockets, fishing around inside until he found what he was looking for. Quillard’s switchblade dropped to the floor as the thug pulled out an open box of cigarettes. Maintaining eye contact with the captured man, he pulled out a cigarette and held it up. Then, he snapped it half, dropped it to the floor, and smeared it with his boot.

“You bastard! That’s the only thing I truly love!” Quillard yelled as he pulled against his restraints.

The dark man laughed and stepped forward, his dark blue skin becoming prominent in the light. He reared back his fist and took in a deep breath. Before he could exhale, in the moment that followed, a window shattered and the cigarette man collapsed to the floor. His dark blue blood splattered forward and his body began to darken.

Seymore whipped his head around and glared out into the darkness of the unlit warehouse. The other two thugs went to the body of their dearly departed friend and pulled an arrow out of his back.

"Crossbow, sir!” Thug 1 reported. “Goddamn it!” shouted Seymore. Laughter echoed out, “I knew you’d be happy to see me!”

Seymore walked behind Quillard and threw an arm around his neck, pulling him towards himself. The loud scraping noise of the chair skidding across the floor echoed out as a creature rushed out of the shadows and leapt into the air. Almost a silohuette, his brown jacket could be seen flapping against his strange glowing shirt. The sleeves were rolled up and the shirt continued down and around his hands, serving also as gloves. It was jet black but yellow lines glowed upon it, reaching down his arms and around his waist. The strangest thing about this man though, as he tumbled across the ground and stood up holding up a revolver, was his incredibly mishapen head. A brief pause occured before the two thugs rushed at him with their weapons, Thug 1 pulling a pistol and Thug 2 carrying a small bat.

“Hey! I’ll kill your partner, freak!” shouted Seymore. Quillard grunted as Seymore pulled his grip tighter, some spikes in his arm started to protrude forward. “Fuckin’ demons…” he choked out.

The light shined on the skirmish ahead and they could see the yellow-lined man’s head in detail. It was like a blocky skull with two perfectly round red eyes. There were two small round objects protuding from between the cheek and jaw on his jaw line. Shots fired past him and he fired all six shots of his revolver at Thug 1. Two bullets hit, one in the right shoulder and through his right cheek. Thug 2 smashed the bat across the back of the block-skull and he fell to the thug’s feet.

“Haha, where’s your stupid crossbow now?” he taunted as he kicked the block-skull in the ribs. “Wasted them on the window and side of the building,” he choked. “But I always got me knife for knifin’ tools!” “What?” the Thug asked before the block-skull knifed him in the leg.

As the thug screamed out, the man pulled the knife down and then grabbed the other leg and yanked him to the floor. He crawled over top of him as he topple and positioned himself over the thug’s chest.

“Ssh, only dreams now. Or whatever awaits you robots when you’re off.”

Seymore watched with anger and pulled his other arm to his face and began to chew at it. The thug was murdered by the block-skull as he proceeded to slice the throat, unleashing a spray of the dark blue blood. Stabbing it a few more times, he stood up and looked over to the other thug. Thug 1 was fumbling around with a face full of the dark blue and gathering a chain nearby.

The block-skull reloaded the revolver and shot him in the back of the head after three shots. “Damn, three bullets left,” he spoke to himself as he marched towards Seymore and Quillard.

“What the hell is that crap?” block-skull said motioning to Seymore chewing away at his arm.

With a smirk and a ruff laugh, Seymore held out his arm and allowed the thick blue blood to pour out of his arm. As it hit the floor,it began to congeal and form a solid mass until a roughly 5 and a half foot tall man was gripping Seymore’s arm. All the blood had become this new person and he stepped forward, aiming to stand between the block-skull and the blue demon. This would be Thug 4.

“Nifty trick,” the block-skull said as he nonchalantly fired two bullets into the being, “Too bad I don’t give a shit.”

Seymore snarled and gripped Quillard again.

“Augh! Fuckin’ trim your spikes or cut it out, mate!” Quillard shouted in anger.

“You gonna let him go or what?”

“What the hell does a Trianclyote want with this foul man?” snarled Seymore. “I’ll friggin end his life if you don’t drop all your weapons!”

“You sure you got the time for that? The Trianclyote thing is a long story, I didn’t mean to end up like this…”

“Drop. The weapons,” he snarled. “Now.”

“Fine, fine,” the block-skull man replied holding up his hands.

Meticulously, he began to pat himself over and removed many weapons. A stake with a silver handle, two combat knives from his jacket, another combat knife from under his pants leg, a stake with a golden handle, two pistols, the crossbow, the revolver, a few other odd items, and finally, he undid the strap across his chest, causing a short sword’s case to hit the ground. Afterwards, he raised his hands and made no emotive change in his skull, but seemingly carried across the wordless response of questioning if Seymore was happy. Seymore did not understand why he had spread his hands though and just stared.

“He wants to know if you’re happy now,” Quillard choked out.

“Ah yes, that will do. Now what do you want with this bastard?”

“You guessed it earlier, he’s my partner man,” replied the man in the brown coat. “Why did you nab him off the streets?”

“This man is a demon hunter of some sort and he was poking around my operations!”

“Well… You’re not entirely wrong, but mostly wrong on that. Where as, myself? I’m totally a demon hunter. Or monster hunter. Whichever sounds right. Or you can call me Tristan.”

Seymore raised his eye brows with interest. Tristman motioned him to ‘bring it on.’ Letting go of Quillard, the demon lunged forward at him, tackling him to the ground and past the weapons that Tristan hopelessly grasped at. Something clattered besides them but the sound was quickly drowned out by the adrenline and sounds of fists upon flesh and fist upon demon-hide. They’re scuffle was starting to drag on until they heard the chair break.

Quillard was free and went over to grab his jacket. Seymore quickly turned back to see Tristan’s jaw-circles glowing yellow. His eyes seemed to glare but he couldn’t help but feel this was more of a smirk. Suddenly, the room darkened around them and Seymore stood up off of Tristan.

“What is this?” he shouted, hearing it echo back at him.

Suddenly, the darkess was filled by the blinding green light of flashing numbers.

9:22 PM

It flashed a few more times and he covered his eyes. Peeking out, he saw Tristan holding the revolver right before his eyes.

Blam!

The darkness went away and Tristan looked over at Quillard, who was standing just a few feet away. The smoke of his cigarette floated over, giving him the appearance of some beaurecratic figure. His coat was folded over his arm and the hat was on top of the coat.

“You look like som kind of cop,” Tristen said, standing up. Several brushing motions were made to get the blue gunk off of his coat.

“And you still look like the bad end of a truck going through a road made entirely of disease, you trialthalon-thing.”

“Trianclyote,” Tristan corrected as he opened up the shirt of the ever-changing corpse. The true form of the demon was revealing itself, dark blue icky skin with tiny black thorns protruding from the arms and neck.

“Just do your weird blood letting thing and get your useless power of always knowing the time out of here.” “Wasn’t useless just now.”

Quillard sighed. “Tristen Nikhl, you are one in a million. You know that right?”

“Couldn’t do it with you! We gave em the old Nikhl and Di-”

“Just bloody do it!” Quillard shouted.

The specialized demon hunter saw to it that he would perform the strange ritual he had. The way he came about to do this is quite the long story but it involves a radical necromancer and holding back an army of the dead. Right now, he was infused with the Trianclyote’s special impenetrable skull and ability to always tell the time, even if it is told by force, and it was causing his demoshirt to glow yellow. This whole operation was specifically setup so he could jump this special criminal demon and hopefully get this horrifying skull out of his life.

Gripping the heart of the demon, the effect began to take place. The yellow glow changed to a dark blue and his head began to become maleable. His shadow rose up and began to dance around him as his head glowed a bright blue, shining beacons of white light from his mouth and eyes. A strange yell filled the warehouse while Quillard tightened his grip on a cigarette.

“Come on…” he hopefully chanted. “Create minions… Shapeshifting… Something useful, come onnn!”

He was of course referring to the random power or powers generated from this ritual.

Tristen held his head in his hands as the shadow spiralled around him and envolped him like a blanket. It shrunk to the floor beneath him and a quiet took the air.

“Well!? Do you still look like an arsehole?”

Tristen looked up, his long brown hair being brushed out of his face. “Aye! Lookit me!”

“Welp. Guess you’re got your looks back. Now that’s a scary face,” Quillard mocked.

“Oh please. I can feel I only got one power out of this…” he said to himself.

“Pleaaaase, please please please,” Quillard began stepping closer. “Please tell me it’s useful.”

“I got…” Tristen pulled his arms inward, building up to his next words. Quickly, he scooped up the revolver. “Super strength!” he shouted while flexing and crushing the revolver.

“Ugh!�� Quillard shouted and stomped away. “I already have that power!”

“No way! You have enhanced abilities. Strength, speed, and durability. But I’m straight up super.”

“Super lame.”

“We Nikhl and Diehmed them good!”

“Super idiot.”

“Oh shut up and let’s go back to the base, Quillby. I have mirrors I need to stare at.”

Quillard shot him a cynical look as he inhaled on the cigarette. Despite the smoke blowed in his face, Tristen still gleamed a stupid smile.

#forty writes #quillard and tristen #nikhl and diehm #quillby #quillard diehm #tristen nikhl #a little change #prelude #demon hunters #vampire #demon

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