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  It was a frighteningly cold bitter winter night. There were thick dark clouds in the sky and the ground and the rest of the surroundings were blanketed with snow and ice; most of the wooden fences were so covered up that you were lucky enough to see the tip of the posts and looked more like snow bluffs and the houses so covered that their roofs looked like they may collapse at any given time and had rows and rows of icicles hanging down and there were snow flurries still falling making the already hard to see in the dark even more troublesome. The snow was deep enough to come up to your knees in some parts and if you were not careful, your waist. It had been snowing for days now, but it had never snowed quite like this. Most of the customers inside the tavern, which was on the out skirts of the town of Kelem; a sleepy little village,  were the regulars and the die hard drinkers and the town drunk who were stranded there at the moment; men with wives and children, if they had any, safely at home, probably worried sick about their husbands or fathers, their chimney's furiously pumping up black smoke trying to fight back the biting cold.  And then there were the occasional man and wife or family up stairs in the boarding rooms in nice warm comfy beds who had come out of town to visit or were just passing through and were stranded in this God awful blizzard.

  
  The tavern owner Bradley was glad he had his little girl Stephenie with him. She was a great help to him, even if it was not too busy tonight on account of the snow storm. But she helped keep the spirits of the customers and stranded people up and that was what was needed right now. The storm had gotten so bad that he had decided to let the patrons stay for the night in the bar until the weather cleared. The tavern had beds upstairs, but those were for paying customers and which some had already retired for the night. He did however divvy up blankets for everyone else and he had enough chairs for make shift beds, which some had already stretched out onto them, using three or four of the armless wooden chairs as a cot or simply sitting in one and stretching their feet out or tipped back against the wall and wrapped up in their borrowed warm blankets for the night, boots still on, while other's still drank the last of their drinks for "last call".  And of course he kept the fire stoked with plenty of wood that he had chopped all spring, summer and fall long. It was hard work tending the bar mostly by himself. His daughter helped and it was great help, but she was still just a child at the age of eleven and he did not make enough to hire others to help with the heavy workload. His wife had died when Stephenie was still very young. She had gotten sick and the doctors could do nothing for her. The name of the tavern he had renamed from "Joy & Hope" to "Broken Tears", because that is all he had ever felt since her passing.

  
  He was about to lock up for the night, since he was not expecting any more customers on account of the weather.  But as he was preparing to lay the thick wooden plank down into the metal frame to secure it, there came a light wrapping at the door. First he thought it was just the wind or a brushing tree branch, but there it was again. He opened the door and before him stood a very elderly man which had to be in his late 90's... maybe even older. He was wearing a hooded grey robe that looked like it was patch worked with random colored bits of cloth and fingerless gloves and what looked like rags for boots and he was covered from head to toe in a thin blanket of snow and ice. He carried a tall ordinary looking staff which he was leaning heavily on and he was shivering badly. The bar owner scratched his head. He had an inkling to turn the old man away, because he was probably just a begger... but his daughter was in the room... what kind of an example would that be to her young and eager innocent mind? "Well come on...", the owner of the establishment beckoned. "you are making me let all the heat out!"


"God bless you, Sir!", the old man said in a raspy and shivering voice.  He came shambling in and Stephenie rushed to help him to a near by empty table and chair closest to the fireplace. The old man took a moment to shake the snow from off of him and tapped his staff on the floor three times to knock the snow from off of it as well and the snow that was still on him or on the floor by now was already melting into puddles of water at his feet. The child asked if he would like to take off his robe to hang it up on a hook to dry and to take the walking stick he used as a cane to put up against the wall, but the old man refused.



  He had a beaten and weathered look to him and deep wrinkles on his face and his hands seemed to shake badly, but she was not sure if it was due to the freezing weather or due to his old age... It made her sad. What could he have possibly been doing out in weather like this she thought. She had never seen him before though, but neither had her father by his initial reactions. She helped him sit down and instantly went to grab another chair and helped propped his frozen and soaked "rags for boots" towards the fire to warm and dry them, hoping he had not caught frost bite.


"Ahhh, thank you my dear. I am feeling much better already." he said in a strange, but understandable dialect.


"Your welcome Sir. Would you like something to eat or drink?", she asked.


"I am afraid I have no money to pay. I was only hoping to get out of that horrid weather and get a little warmth..., but I do have some stories to tell...", he said.


"Oh, that is alright... But I love stories! Anyway I am sure my father wont mind giving you a bowl of hot stew and some freshly baked bread I had made myself earlier today and some warm ale to warm you up... will you papa?", she said turning her head towards her dad still standing at the door.


  The father was caught off guard. If he had no money, that just meant he could not pay, but he had already given a round of free drinks to warm the hearts and spirits of the other patrons and the stew was about the last in the cauldron with mostly just juice and a few bits and the bread was drying out by now anyway... so why not? It would not hurt anyone and it would make his daughter happy and the old man feel better.


  He nodded his head as she knew he would and she ran off to get a wooden tray and a wooden bowl and spoon and a copper mug for the ale. She poured it expertly from a large wooden oak barrel with a tap in it, laying on it's side on a wooden rack against the wall behind the bar and also went to the fireplace to spoon out the last of the stew with a large metal ladle from the large cauldron, just enough for a bowl full and piping hot! She placed the tray on the table and she rushed to get the last of the bread. She would have to bake some more in the morning and she knew she should get some sleep, but she wanted to hear the stories that this traveler had to offer. She had never been out of her own town, much less the country and was very curious of his travels.


  The old man practically scarfed the hot food down, seeming barely to even notice the heat from it, but the steam could be seen quite easily from her position. He ate the dry bread just as intently, even wiping the inside of the wooden bowl with pieces of torn dry bread using it like a sponge to get every last bit of the yummy goodness and to soften the bread as well... he had not eaten in days...  And then when he was half way done with the ale, he placed the mug on the table and stared at the child who was patiently waiting for him to start his tale, her father was wrestling with the heavy cauldron carrying it to the back to wash it up and prepare it for tomorrow.


  After a few more minutes of him relaxing and patting his tummy, a sign of good food and thankfulness, he began... "Well my child... where shall I begin?"


"From the beginning!", she exclaimed excitedly.


"From the beginning!?!", he blurted out, leaning slightly forward. "The beginning of what? Since I was born? That is a lot of ground to cover..." he said teasingly and smiled, making his wrinkles grow deeper on his face, but giving him a loving and teasing grand father look about him.


"Well what is your name?  Where do you come from and why were you out in the snow storm?", she prodded.


"Hmmm... a good place to start as any I suppose... well... I am known by many names and I come from a land far far away...", he began.


"You mean from Corrinth?", she asked.


"No my Dear, that is a town not too far from here, I actually passed it a few days ago. Nice place. No, the land I am referring to is many many miles and leagues from here... on horse back and by boat."


"You've been on a boat!?! I have never even been out of this town much less in a boat on  the water!  I bet it was fun!", she exclaimed.


"Hey... who is telling this story?" the old man leaned toward the wide eyed child and winked at her... "Now where was I?"


"You were talking about being on the boat!", she said excitedly, ushering him on.


"Ahhhh yes, the high seas... yes my Dear, I have traveled long and far and have seen all sorts of wonders and sights and have fought and slain many evil things..."


  A younger man at the bar with a few of his friends with their backs still turned to the old man interrupted him, swirling his drink in his mug around as he spoke, "Traveled the world you say... slained evil creatures you say!?!", the young man turned toward him, ale spilling over to the hard wooden floor.  "Old man, you look like garbage and you smell even worse!" His friends egged him on. "You must be senile gramps. I bet you have been a beggar all your life, not some adventurer." The young man flaunted his sword on his belt, no doubt a self proclaimed adventurer himself the old man thought.


"Let him tell his story", the young girl shot back, she never did like him. He was so rude and was always picking on her and others weaker than himself. She never understood why her father even allowed him and his friends in here... she guessed because they could pay their tab...


"What!?! That pack of lies! You actually believe this feeble old man? He uses a cane to walk with for crying out loud. He is no warrior.", the younger man taunted as a few of his friends chimed in with laughter and slapping of one another's backs.


"Well he was younger once and his stories are more entertaining than yours. You did not kill no vampire, like you claimed!", she shot back.


"Watch your mouth before I shut it! Do you know who you are talking to little girl!?!", he shouted at her.


  The little girl grown scared and the old man began to rise, but slowly due to his old age. He had one shaky hand on the table and the other on his staff before the punk shot up and grabbed onto the stick and easily pulled it from his weak grasp forcing the old man to fall back into his chair roughly.


"HEY! Give him back his walking stick! He needs that!", she cried.


"Oh be quiet, I am not going to do anything with it.  Just going to have a little fun that's all.", he said as he tossed it to a friend and then he to another. The old man just sat there, what could he do? But the little girl ran after it and tried to snatch it, but the young men were too quick and tall for her and played keep away toying with her. Finally the young man who had started all this trouble caught it and held it just out of reach even when she was on her tippy toes and laughed and said, "This would make for fine kindling for the fire, don't you think boys?", as he smiled down at her. "You will always be short and ugly Stephy." The young girl got mad at both what he threatened to do with the wooden cane and for calling her "Stephy"... Stephenie was her name and Steph she could live with, but Stephy she absolutely hated! She drew her right foot back and kicked him in his left shin as hard as she could and made him drop the stick and she hurriedly picked it up and gave it back to the elderly man who was now beginning to rise again.


"HEY Wench!  Who the Hell do you think you ARE!?!", he screamed at her rubbing his bruised shin.


"The daughter of the owner of this rather fine establishment.", came a rather loud and annoyed voice emerging from behind the bar. "And if you plan on being warm much longer, I suggest you sit down and SHUT UP and stop harassing both my daughter and this... older gentleman. Or else I will have to ask you to leave... and the word "asking" is not the right word for it. It is a cold bitter night... how long do you think you could last out there?"


  The young man grumbled and sat back down at the bar, his friends consoling him."His stories are fake I tell you!", he said while tilting his head back and taking another swig of his ale.


  The little girl helped the new guest sit back down in his chair and he did not bother to raise his feet up this time on the other chair. Then she sat back down in her own chair, but she did not have the same twinkle in her eyes as she had earlier.


"What is wrong my Dear?", he asked, but the only response from her was the shrugging of her small shoulders..."Did what he say upset you?" he continued.


  She only nodded at first, but then continued, "I hate being called that way by my name... it annoys me... and I hate being called ugly... even if I am ugly..." She said looking down at her hands and at the wooden table, almost looking like she was about to cry.


The old man looked at her and became sad himself. He thought back to his youth and knew how most girls changed into beautiful fine young women. "Don't take what that young man said too seriously. He was just trying to be a jerk."


"I know he was..., but other boys my age say the same thing...", she said her voice trailing.  She sounded like she was trying to hold back sobs.


  It pulled at his heart strings. She had been so nice to him and she did not even know him. "Listen... boys will be "boys" and Men will be "men"... you will find out what that means as you get older..." he said and then thought for a moment as he studied her. He reached over and lifted her chin with his left hand and stared into her Beautiful Hazel Eyes. "You know... your eyes shine brighter than the stars in the clear night sky..."


  She blushed and turned away. No one had ever said that before to her besides her dad. "My dad says I am beautiful... but he is suppose to say that, he is my father.", she said matter of fact voice, tilting her head to one side and trying not to smile, still sniffing back a sob.


  The old man thought for a moment... "Is your mother beautiful?" he finally inquired.


"Yes!", she said quickly and honestly. "She was..." she paused for only a second and then continued just as enthusiastically, "the MOST Beautifulest woman in the ENTIRE World! With long brown hair and a perfect face and soft smooth skin. She was the envy of many men, but my dad was lucky enough to get her..." she paused again and looked at the fire.


"Was?", the old man said trying to ask what was obvious. "You mean she passed away?"


"Yes, when I was very young, she became deathly ill... but even after her death, before we buried her... as she was laying in the wooden casket... she was Still SO Beautiful..."


  The old man took another swig of ale and tried to find a way to change the subject some what. "Well child, if your mother was so beautiful it would only stand to reason that you yourself will grow into a very beautiful young woman just like your mother."


"No way! She was TOTALLY Gorgeous! I could never be as Beautiful as she was!"


"You know my late wife had the same beautiful and bright shining eyes as you have now and also the same long brown wavy hair."


"Really!?! What happened to her?"


"She died... many many years ago... we were still quite young at the time..."


"What happened may I ask?", she said carefully.


  Now it was time for the old man to look like he was about to cry. "She was... taken from me... and... killed..."


"How awful! I am sorry to hear that.", the little girl said honestly.


"Yea... but that was many a year ago... the only thing I have left of her is this", he said as he lifted up his walking staff.


"You have nothing else of hers; no pictures, no letters, no jewelry, nothing!?!", she questioned.


"No... all have long since been gone with the wind so to speak... except of course her heart and spirit and my love for her still lives on in my heart...", he said sorrowfully.


  The young girl looked inquisitively at him for his choice of words and he smiled at her reminiscing of his past and of his Love.


"She was a fine woman and a princess you know..." his voice trailed trying to remember every detail.


"A REAL Princess!?!", she said loudly and others began to listen more intently even pulling up a chair as the old man began to weave his tale of old times and past glories, of life and death and a kind of spiritual love that can never die. Even the friends of the punk became intrigued and left their comrade to wallow in his drink at the bar by himself until finally even he came over.


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A New Story Will Be Posted Later Detailing The Old Man's Story...
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  It was nearing the end of his story, a story so marvelous and well told that it seemed impossible and could never have been true..., when a knock at the door came and it caught the owner's attention. He got up bewildered and wondered who in the devil it could be at this late in the hour and in this god forsaken storm. He unbarred the door with some effort and opened it, but no one was there. He walked just outside the door, but all he saw was darkness and the snow still falling, although not as heavily. Just then crashes came from inside his tavern and screams and cries erupted. He turned to rush back in to see what was happening and to check on his little girl's safety, when something knocked him forward from behind and he went flying into the table where the guests had been previously gathered around and seated, cups of ale and bowls of stew went flying everywhere. The old man was the only one who did not get up and back away due to his old age. The owner looked up and saw men in kneeling positions beginning to stand after they had crashed through the windows. The man behind him shut the door and locked it quite easily with no fuss at all as if the heavy oak wood was just a twig. He did not look overly strong, in fact he looked a little pale and skinny, but he moved the wooden bar like it was nothing. The men of the tavern were standing and those with weapons had them drawn, others took up chairs or bottles and one even had the fire poker readied as a make shift weapon.  The tall thin man who locked the door just shook his head, crossed his arms in front of his chest and rolled his eyes. "You know why we have come here and you already know this is quite a futile attempt. Why even bother raising arms against us, when in the end you will just become one of us...", and he put the emphasis on, "if your lucky..."


  The invaders started walking towards the men and all the men, including the punk kid, who was not looking so sure of himself now, backed away except for one and that man charged at the intruders lunging with a knife and yelling "This is for my wi...", but one of the evil creature's just side stepped him easily and ripped the man's throat out with his bare hand and the man died on the cold hard floor clutching his throat, blood spilling across it filling the nooks and cracks. The killer opened his mouth and put the still warm pulsating flesh into it and began to chew and then swallowed it smiling. The rest of the patrons were horrified and frozen in place. The little girl only stayed by her fathers side who was still laying face down on the cold wooden floor.


  The intruders drew their own swords and quickly rushed into the gaggle of men who either tried to stand their ground or ran themselves. It was chaos. Screams erupted from upstairs from men, women and children as apparently the new arrivals had also climbed on the roof and came through those windows as well. The old man judged that these creatures were either created from magic or had some form of spiritual evil power that gave them strength and speed many times that above normal men.


  Grown men were being thrown around like rag dolls into each other or walls. One was thrown onto a coat rack and was speared cleanly through his back and chest and hung there dieing trying to seemingly pull himself off the long metal pike, blood dripping from both points of entry and exit and also bubbling from his open and gapping mouth trailing down his chin and neck. Some people down stairs tried to go up, while some people up stairs tried to make their way down and were trapped in the middle of the stairwell and those that could tried to jump the railing.


  The father told his daughter to go run somewhere and hide, but the leader who had knocked him from behind had grabbed her and lifted her up with one arm easily all the way off the ground by her tiny chin. "I think this one would do good to be my wife for all eternity, such pretty eyes you have and such delicate features...", he said as his long nailed fingers trailed over her slender face, arms and body.  Both the father and the old man was disgusted. The old man tried to rise, but one of the three with the apparent leader pushed him to the ground and he layed there sprawled clutching his hip and cursed himself for his old age. The father however found a sharp steak knife laying near by and stabbed it into the creature's leg who held his daughter and who gave out a shout of pain and dropped the girl to her knees hurting her. The creature pulled the knife from his wounded leg and jammed it into her father's leg and twisted it cruelly and painfully and the father screamed himself, but much more loudly and then it picked him up easily by the throat with one hand and carried him to the fire place where he held him there, the stones were hot to the touch and it made his back smoke and he let him burn there slowly in fiery screaming agony.  Then he drove him forcibly into the fire pit and let him go as the father got up and ran uncontrollably in flames and screaming. The young girl was crying and rushed to the old man who was sitting up by now and who tried to shield her eyes and ears from the sick torture of her father. Eventually he fell to the ground and began rolling trying to put out the flames and unable to stand on his burnt legs anymore, but the torturers doused him with hard liquor and kept the fire going and eventually he died, his clothing melted into his skin and his appearance looked more like an evil creature than a loving father; bony charred fingers posed as if they were trying to reach out for something, perhaps salvation from the burning torturing pain.


  The leader strode over to the old man and little girl and told her to come to him. When she didn't he informed her that little girl's who do not listen must be punished. The old man told him to leave her alone and he began to stand up shakily on his cane. Once up he awkwardly lunged with the staff for the young man's head, but he grabbed onto his old wrist, practically breaking it, and threw him back onto the ground and the wooden staff clattered by the standing creature's feet. "My name is Alfonzo, and these are my Lieutenants, Chris and Luke.  You must be new to these parts old man. I have never seen you or by the looks of you, "smelled" you before either. You are probably wondering who or what the hell I am or we are."


"Your just some punk kids.  I could care less what you are.", he said huffing for air, but defiant none the less.


"Some punk kids!?! Don't let my looks fool you you old bastard. These "lambs" call us Vampires or creatures of the night. I prefer our destined name βρυκόλακας or Vrykolakas. You look to be about 90 or even 100, old and feeble. But I myself am over 300 years old and I still do not look a day over 18. I am youthful and strong and can take your life and hers in a matter of seconds."


The old man was silent for a moment, rubbing his hip, then he said under his breath and mumbling to himself, "Well at least I know why I was guided here..."


"And what would that be? To Die!?!", the vampire asked overhearing him and laughing.


"No, to kill the likes of you, the whole Lot of You!", he shot back, coughing with rage.


  Alfonzo laughed out loud at the comment. "You really think you can kill me old man? And with what? Hmmm? Your walking stick? You can not walk or even stand with out it. You must be joking. Let me show you what I will do to you very shortly. I will break your back as if it was rice paper over my knee and then as you die slowly I will take the little girl and make her my own." As he was saying that he bent over and reached down and grabbed the old man's stick. The old man warned him not to touch it, but the Vrykolakas payed him no heed. He brings the stick over his head for emphasis of what was about to happen to the old man and then in an instant, a flash of light enveloped the creature and it was engulfed in fiery burning hell fire and in the next second it was gone, leaving only ashes behind in it's wake.


  The old man said a bible verse he had learned on his many travels through different lands and recited it then. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...", as the ashes seemed to be blown away from the draft coming from the open windows and the walking stick again clattered to the floor.


  Chris and Luke were horrified. They stood there gawking at the shadowy imprint on the floor of what use to be their comrade, even their father since they had both been bitten and thus turned into vampires by him. Chris grabbed onto the old man's collar and yanked him up, pure rage on his face. "What did you do old man!?! What happened to him!?! Some kind of magic!?!"


"You could say that...", the old man tried to cough out as he was being strangled by his closed collar, his legs had no more strength in them to stand. "I warned him not to touch it, but he did not listen... no evil may touch the Blade of Evil's Bane... and live anyway..."


  The vampire looked into the old man's grey cloudy eyes and head butted him. The old man's head snapped back and his hood came from off it to reveal long grey strands of hair as white as the snow's. He shook his head and could barely keep his head up. "What are you talking about you fool!?!  It is a God DAMN Stick!  You'll pay for this old man!", Chris growled.


"Son... I have been paying for this for a lot longer than you or him can even imagine... probably a lot longer than even your "Master" has been around and I am not speaking of Alfy..."


"What do you mean old man? You are what, 90 or 100? I am 150 and Luke is 224. You are young enough to be MY great grandson!"


"As your dead friend mentioned, looks can be deceiving. I have been cursed... much like yourself... except my curse is much worse in a sense, that I still grow older and older until the need arises. I was hoping this would be it... I have never been or felt this old before... but then you and your goons storm in here...", the old man shakes his head and looks into the vampire's eyes. "I am over 2,000 years old and you are STILL just a Punk KID!"


  Chris looked at Luke and then looked back at the old man, but something had changed. His eyes... they were not quite as greyish milky white and cloudy as before... they looked more youthful... blueish even. The old man's left hand which he had placed on Chris's right shoulder for some kind of support began to glow golden and triangles could be seen on it through the ragged black tatters he wore for gloves and all three began to glow brightly one by one in sequence, the bottom left, than the bottom right and finally the top one.  Then all three glowed in sequence and to an unheard beat. Chris looked back into the old man's eyes once again and they were as blue as the summer day's sky and then a brighter glow and heat could be felt from the old man's left hand and Chris went flying backwards through some tables and into the wall. Two other Vrykolakas turned their attention in the old man's direction as their comrade had crashed through the tables near them. They came near and saw that his wrinkles were disappearing and his long white hair becoming shorter and turning to a darker color, an almost brown.


  The three vampires stood there, both their leader dead and their second in command just floored, they were not going to take any more chances and they took up arms against him.  The robed man put the top of his left foot onto his walking stick and quickly moved his foot back towards him and then quickly under the stick as it rolled onto the top of his ragged boot and he lifted his foot up fast and flicked the cane up to chest level and he grabbed onto it, his right hand on the middle of the cane and his left hand on the far left side.  A bright light shown from the space in between where he had a hold of it and he slowly started to pull the one piece of solid deku wood apart.  The light shown brighter as the part he held in his left hand became a blue colored hilt and the wood he held onto in his right hand became shorter and also a blue and gold ordained scabbard.  As he pulled the two apart from one another the light shown even brighter to a finely honed silver color and a razor sharp double edged blade could be seen.


  The vampires looked at one another and then hissed at him and he just smiled as they sprung at him into the air high almost reaching the 15 foot ceiling with their heads, their claws extended, their teeth bared and their swords drawn.  It only took a second or two as they sprung like wild cats at him and there was a flurry of sword strikes between all four of them, but before the three could even land on their feet, the old man had dispatched them all, limbs being sliced from their bodies, swords being knocked or cut from hands and heads being chopped off.  He had not even shown much effort in it, his strikes were lighting fast and deadly accurate and his scabbard was used for parrying or hitting.


  The cut up bodies landed on the ground and some were already internally on fire and quickly disintegrated all around Stephenie, while others took a little longer to disappear entirely.  She had screamed and covered her head with her arms and her ears with her hands as the vampires screamed painfully loud and when the screaming stopped and the heat subsided, the ashes being blown away, she looked up at the old man.  But what she saw was not what she had been expecting.  A bright light permeated from the old man, seemingly from the inside out.  So blinding the light, that she had to cover her eyes with her hands and look away.  When the light died down she looked through parted fingers and saw twinkling lights like fairies or lightning bugs sparkling and twirling around him in an upwards and clockwise fashion for a brief moment obsuring him until they finaly vanished.  His rags he had worn as a robe had been cut from off of him in the flurry exchange of sword strikes and now layed around his boots that were calf high, brown leather that looked well worn, but in good condition.  She looked up from his boots and saw tight fitting green trousers and then a short sleeved green tunic and then his face.  It looked so youthful and handsome... like he was 20 or 21 years old in appearance.  His hair was short and spiky and his eyes a bright blue and he had peculiar looking ears... long and pointed... she had seen no one like him before... he was exceptionally handsome.


  He was looking down at her now with a reassuring smile and he had already strapped the sheath to his back and had reached his right hand down to her and she reached up and grabbed it and with his help stood with shaky legs.  He pulled her behind him and told her not to move from that spot.  The other vampires in the direct area had already took notice and the vampires up stairs jumped down at the sound of their slain brethren screams.  They were not used to death, they had all died once as humans, but were reborn as something else... a promise of strength and ever lasting life.  And surely from time to time a vampire may have taken another vampire's life or maybe a mob of humans were lucky enough to of killed one or two, but never by one man, killing four or maybe five outright was unimaginable... impossible...


  The young man clad in green stood there, Stephenie safely behind him.  He took his sword,  the name Zelda etched ever so carefully and boldly with the most exquisite of calligraphy styles across the blade near the guard, in many different languages from around the world from his travels, and scraped the tip of the sword across the hardwood floor in a perfectly curved half circle line directly in front and partially around him.  "Anyone who crosses this line dies..." and he added for emphasis, "perminately...".


  The vampires hissed, their mouths wide with their sharp teeth showing and looked at one another for support and strength and then looked back at the young man clad in green.  He smiled at them... showing his own teeth in a wolfish grin and tilted his head... "Shall we dance....."
Sorry I have not posted anything in a while... I have not been feeling well and was not really up to the task... although I have written a little here or there, I just have not posted any of it up until now. I have a few more to post and way too many more ideas to even begin to tell or write about unfortunately. Hopefully, on a somewhat regular basis, I can post the others and continue writing more.
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:iconzeldagirl236:
zeldagirl236 Featured By Owner May 22, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
i have to ask! do you hate vampires? cuz im kinda against them...btw ove your story!!! its sad but i love the action!
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:iconlinknzeldaforever:
LinkNZeldaForever Featured By Owner May 23, 2012
Well thank you! I am not against vampires per say, but I have always liked werewolves more. No, I just wanted something different than the normal short stories I do... and this is ending up to be a lot longer than I had planed... I have two or three more parts already with the "Old Man Stories"... and I am still not done although I am currently working on other projects at the moment.

I wanted it to seem like this was not a LoZ story at all at first and then surprise the reader middle to near the end depending on how mush LoZ lore they knew. "Blade of Evil's Bane", is a pretty big give away and was originally not included, but I wanted to add it anyway. I wanted people to raise an eyebrow and then be like "No WAY!!!" and then like "Holy Crap, I did not see that coming!". But yea, I am glad you enjoyed it though. Please feel free to read the other parts to this story as well. Enjoy!
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:iconzeldagirl236:
zeldagirl236 Featured By Owner May 23, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
im totally on ur side..i always liked werwolves...mostly cuz link was one once...lol..and yea keep the good work...i really want to read more..
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:iconlinknzeldaforever:
LinkNZeldaForever Featured By Owner May 23, 2012
Well I have the majority of the next chapter in this short story completed, I am just trying to figure out a few things. I have had most of it in my head, but I do not want to rush anything. I have plenty of other stories though already completed if you have the desire to read them. Some are short and sweet, others are middle of the road and yet a few are down right evil. I even have a novel in the works. I am not sure when I will continue the Shall We Dance... story though. But it should not be too long.
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:iconzeldagirl236:
zeldagirl236 Featured By Owner May 24, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
well its rally good...i anna see some romance though...i love romance!!!
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:iconlinknzeldaforever:
LinkNZeldaForever Featured By Owner May 24, 2012
Well thank you. But if you like romance check out some of my other stories then. :library: That is what I had originally done for the most part. :love: The Sweetest Apple, The Perfect Moment, The Return. I think you will like them.
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:iconzeldagirl236:
zeldagirl236 Featured By Owner May 25, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
wer can i find theM? btw new picture cumin ur way!! check it out!
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:iconlinknzeldaforever:
LinkNZeldaForever Featured By Owner May 25, 2012
The stories are in my gallery on my dA page. But what new picture are you talking about and how?
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(1 Reply)
:iconiheardyouliekmudkip:
IhEaRdYoUlIeKmUDkIp Featured By Owner Apr 26, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Very nicely written. I love the idea, but for some reason it seems like it should continue... But I suppose that's the best part. You can think of you're own ending. I don't usually watch authors, but you may get one from me. ;)
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:iconlinknzeldaforever:
LinkNZeldaForever Featured By Owner Apr 26, 2012
Why thank you! But who said it ended... :? :aww:
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:iconiheardyouliekmudkip:
IhEaRdYoUlIeKmUDkIp Featured By Owner Apr 26, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Oh, I apologize, I took it as a oneshot, I suppose. But I still adore it.
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:iconlinknzeldaforever:
LinkNZeldaForever Featured By Owner Apr 26, 2012
It is ok. I know the ending of it sounded like it was only a one parter... the majority of my short stories are. However, when I originally wrote most of these I made them usually into four parts as I recall for someone and because of the site they used only allowed for so much space of text. However, this site I can just make the stories as long as I want as far as I am aware of so I push them all together into one. Since this is a newly written short story, I had originally only thought of it as one a parter, then when I was in the middle of writting it I put some thing about the old man's story will follow later... I will be posting that in groups as well eventually. By the way I like your red dragon or wyvern avatar. =D
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:iconiheardyouliekmudkip:
IhEaRdYoUlIeKmUDkIp Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Well, I read the first part of the old man's story as well. I honestly wasn't expecting the story to be based of Twilight Princess, and I like that aspect.

And thank you! :)
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:iconlinknzeldaforever:
LinkNZeldaForever Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2012
Well I did not want it to be too obvious at first. I wanted it to be just seemingly a whole new story, of course by the time I got done with it in a sense it was, but I wanted to still use the LoZ context because I am used to it, plus people seem to like it... Since TP was the last Zelda game I had played and finished (Just started WW and I know of somethings... but no spoilers please!) I decided to make TP as the back drop. I am currently working on Part 2 of the Old Man's Story, but I am not sure when it will be done since I am also working on other stories and or writings as well.
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:iconiheardyouliekmudkip:
IhEaRdYoUlIeKmUDkIp Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I know exactly how that is! I have so many ideas, and no time to write them. I'm glad to know you are still working on it. :)
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:iconlinknzeldaforever:
LinkNZeldaForever Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2012
Me too. Hopefully I will stay in the mood to do so. ^^;
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(1 Reply)
:iconthelegendofluigi:
TheLegendofLuigi Featured By Owner Mar 15, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Great story! I like the build-up throughout, and how the master sword was disguised as a stick.
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:iconlinknzeldaforever:
LinkNZeldaForever Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2012
Thank you. I changed a little since I last wrote it. Mostly just wording or highlights, but I did a little over haul of how Link transforms at the end. It did not have the lights shinning as before. I had meant to put it in when I had originally posted it, but with so many other stories going on in my head I forgot to and I figured when I posted it to the groups I might as well change it. I also shortened the stick when it transforms. In my head I already knew it did and I did not think I would have to mention it, but just to clear things up I made it to where the scabbard shrunk back to size since the walking stick in my mind was very long.

There was one other thing I wanted to add... but I held off on doing so... I am not sure if it would have ruined the story or not. I think I will wait a while before I add it if ever...
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:iconthelegendofluigi:
TheLegendofLuigi Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Punk Kid! Nice dialogue.
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:iconlinknzeldaforever:
LinkNZeldaForever Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2012
Well I was trying to make it so everyone can read it. I try not to curse too much if at all in all my original stories... my newer ones however... may not be for everyone... :plotting:
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:iconzelee5465:
Zelee5465 Featured By Owner Feb 20, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Good story.... But why did this show up under the Zelink search.....?
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:iconlinknzeldaforever:
LinkNZeldaForever Featured By Owner Mar 7, 2012
Because I put it there. ^^; Force of habit... but it did describe his love for Zelda. And her name was all over his sword. That should count for something. :aww:
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