Merlin 3:36 “Practice Theory”
The open chaotic madness be-hither a sultry havoc of seeming teaming civil war, not only charismatic wizard Merlin wandering thoughtful, Nick hustling in tussle now quick to rustle salvation for Ana he and her escape, but a slew of assassins killing those in caskets drinking mortals into their deaths. Quickly sating thirsts of shared expansive fears in hopes to raise their victims into undying vengeful wretches the same, three of the oldest sleeping in the sand, Nick runs from a vampire unsuccessfully, falling before the waking desert graves, but able to throw his chaser onto the vampire rising from the sand at the bloodlust scent immortal. The momentum becomes weapon as Nick lunging drives a sword thru them both, their screams wretched as Nick raises his knee and continues running before falling into their four grasping arms of hungering death.
In the service of Lord Scarlet, those in fealty attack the newly created, haunting them in sport, tearing one from the door of a blackened carriage the sage rooftop onlookers leave their perch en mass. Focal mercy gone from sight, fleeing terror sending smite and terror of relentless debt and daze, brave and strong in tumult sounds of conquest broach the wages of sin, of one running Troy watches as others chase. He puts an arrow into their prey’s leg as predation encircles, another arrow into the first attacker, as if to alter, but malice does not falter as the hunters turn from gaze orange winged creature, in sky illuminating another that is dead who will soon again die.
A parting Nick adorning ravaged red blood-stained clothes runs by the toppled cart of dried things and grabs a knife, only to use it to run passed Malachi, stabbing him in the back, not to kill, but to turn abruptly into a hallway without losing momentum, a trick of the feet and swift the running steps, to stab then flees adept with Malachi baying from the wound. The hunting party stops to assess battle with wounded Malachi.
The betraying vampires and new-dead creations taunt and agitate Malachi, soon impeding him with knives as many as like eyes, each blade grabbed and removed before returning attack, each thwarted and extorted for their wielded blades in surety that each one suffers, he drinks from them to reclaim the blood of the dead.
In hasting circumstance the traveling cloud compelling orchestral magician they hunt, Merlin’s aura of natural defense they seek to drink, desiring vengeance for their fallen leader, evasion, is plight fully dangerous, catching the leaping outstretched arms of blood thirsting vampire, strafing the creature back who slides afoot and charges again, only to be skewered by a spear. Merlin flies forward carrying vampire on spear, lodging spearhead into the ground before dusting himself and walking quietly into another alley. The anxiety confuses sight shortly, and the waking dawn tenacity seems like endless sunset sky bloodied and red in the moments to midnight. Abhorrent the strong regather, as the hills begin to echo, low distant thunders, fires and smoke entail the angered vigor and in defense at second fall, whence tripping on magic stones Merlin has strewn as simple mortars as they pierce the close proximity, and reconsideration are made by all standing.
With the remnants of madness, countless wounds and winds to separate her from their proprieties, infirmities, and ruthless cause, Ana takes shelter embattled with great resistance for the posterity of fidelity, thinly veiled hid for a missing Nick.
Merlin waits in closed alley, a vampire approaches and he holds a silver pellet, looking to and from and forth again, the vampire chooses to run and wizard chooses to walk. Most overt trappings, endeavoring to divine the thoughts a phoenix in the now misty sky, overwhelmingly underpin other hunts underfoot. At reconnoiter instantly divine and wary of watching visitors it becomes a dark star without reflection, impossible to tame Malachi daemonic laughter a monstrous survivor, both sides wane and slay upon foes.
Merlin turns clockwise in dead silence to only the sound of an arrow flying thru the air, the arrow misses him in passing before his eyes and strikes a fiend straight between the eyes, the shooter Scarlet, who has behind him four opportunistic murderers. Merlin stretches out his hand, branches and rivulets of white electricity strike them all, passing by Scarlet who tries to reach for the nearest arrow from a corpse, learning after diving them burnt, crispy, smoldering, by the light in proximity without contact.
Scarlet: We have come to rid you of these insatiable knaves.
Merlin: Take the deaths and leave the lives, but this is not my city.
Scarlet: Wherefore are you here?
Merlin: Out on you, I will ask you first.
Scarlet: …We are purging a rebellion for my throne; now your turn.
Merlin: …We seek a friend, of the old breath, this is feasibly his scene, and yet I find you here.
Scarlet: Then fight beside me; curtail your unwarranted distrust.
A young-looking vampire runs into their habitation, only to slide and retreat with instant fear.
Elsewhere, the wittiest of the mischievous bloodthirstiness, plot their exit.
Antonius: Hide yourselves, we leave now, and hope an unknown and safe return.
Augustus: No, we make for House Crimson; hide from the echoes of this red tide.
Lucius: Fools we would be not to seek Sino, an added option as we study our reentry, agreed.
Polonius: Sino will see us feigned ally if against Scarlet, but will put haven on us if we take the immortal.
Augustus: What makes we cannot see brings future on us recompense for all places.
Antonius: We can have this discussion elsewhere. Sino will have a reward.
Lucius: For what secret at dawn will wait?
Antonius: That Mattheus returns to the end of his life, as he and Sino had a grave underworking for Scarlet. What say you, Lucius?
Lucius: Better deaths await these fires go we all.
Antonius: Excellent, you (Augustus) find horse, and you (Lucius) take bombs to the wagon, we will find the ever bleeder, and all to the wagon and the wilderness at daybreak, with or without the immortal. Do the plan this city is death.
Unknown to them, Nickolas immortal and who they seek has heard their entire tale in its telling, and rolls onto his back at the rooftop edge where respite, burdened by the option now known, his antiquely acquired duty to save the world and now to make this mortal field a better place for child unborn. Quick in fires and lightning outliers Troy gliding on phoenix sees Nickolas seem resting, and the vampire Augustus riding a horse charging at Merlin, the phoenix screeches from the air and Merlin looks to the sky. Troy leans greatly outward and points to the approaching rider, but the street turns at length of the horse just before Merlin and Scarlet that blocks the horse from sight. That sharp corner that Nick had turned, to avoid the lane before him full of enemies, and that behind him, this third lane a gradual turn for the horse and rider. Hooves hammering soil nearly trampling Merlin, the horse passes and rider takes an arrow from Scarlet.
Scarlet draws another arrow quickly from a body, but Merlin glides over the ground at the rider, revenge to follow as the vampire Scarlet welcomes new battle. Nick races along the rooftops, falling and sliding breaking and gliding over alleys, much the way that the current pursuant vampires who plan to abscond with him do. The horse approaches and wagon latched, creatures falling into the street undead stand from their falls, Nickolas landing in the street rises not so quick and climbs into the wagon, Merlin arriving to see only his shoes climb into the dark box, grenades keep Merlin at bay as they escape, Ana’s cries keep him from pursuing.
Vampires chase the wagon, Nick helps the traitors in their escape, first climbing out the door and kicking down the climbers, and then taking control of the carriage, dawn and rain are very near.
Augustus: We did not get the immortal.
Lucius: We have escaped even more.
Augustus: Where is Polonius?
(Nick shouts, almost driving the horses and fighting simultaneously, as the throws the final attacker into a ditch.)
Lucius: Driving the wagon, (opens door), Polonius, get in here, dawn arrives.
Nickolas looks back at him and smiles, the door closes quickly.
Lucius: He drives the wagon.
Antonius: Get him in here before he burns and kills both horse and carriage.
Lucius: No, the immortal manages the steeds.
Augustus: He must have killed Polonius. What do we do?
From outside, Nickolas hearing their worry shouts to them.
Nick: Relax, all will present itself ever soon enough.
Inroad of interior, with a sword in one hand, and a meat hook dragging Mattheus in the other, a creature attacks him, and in comes the light of the dawn breaking the eternal storms of day and darkness, bringing fated sating rains to parched golden pasture, and with it the sunlight to the night creatures. He drops the lifeless body and fights his attacker as his skin begins to steam, cutting his foe’s arm to take the shield and protect his head from the sunrays, the severed arm burning as he races indoors to watch the wanton burn. The dawn and dusk and fires and rain fade together.
Merlin stands in the street, surveying the damage and the weapons and leather armor all strewn among various piles of ashes beginning to fill with rain, a smattering of drops in fine white cinders, Troy and the phoenix land with rider dismounting. The firebird stretches its wings, folds them properly, and begins a promenade, squawking as if to taunt the varying ashes at their defeat, in daring them to rise from death to face fate, arrogance in atavistic station. Malachi running to dash beneath a tarp, Merlin extends hand and with a glowing light firstly contrite blasts a hole in the nearby wall, allowing the vampire to dashingly enter, gratefully.
Merlin: One of us is where we needn’t be.
Scarlet: It is that we are all where we should not be.
Troy: Why do you not kill him?
Scarlet: It is a matter of debts, boy.
Troy: Your disrespect as daylight is your prison is a frail darkness like a sandcastle.
Troy holds aside his hand, an appearance of illumination, the phoenix quieting closens and ruby fire glows.
Merlin: These environs displease me, we need hospice and complacency, and you, owing me already, I could choose to burn not those walls, and you would owe me, the debt, again. Will you provide redeeming quality, Scarlet?
Scarlet: I think I can put you up for the night.
Ana feels a darkness that no fire witch enjoys, disconnected from her thoughts a wind unnoticed, for her mystery pressured by duress, she pulls her hand from the witches shade caused by dawn, misapprehension foreign adding to graveness Merlin consociating with dark creatures, awhile the Phoenician white flyer avid for violence with the one fire she cannot control, finds herself stepping backwardly summons her strength and composure in thin fire.
The expansion of her magic each time more, thinning imagination imperfect, and the certainty of the existence tangible, is seething between the fingers. Atonement in the center of existence, the reality essence dies, to give to light new order, negating all to which any time had said for memory. Then, what mother and unborn are, the appeal for the gravity of dark souls, veiled for the faith in those thoughts to child, gorgeous of the immortality betrothed, hysteria in the moment of the illumination repentant. She cries with innumerable tears, unioned in sorrow, Merlin comes running to help these things and places her in the vacant throne.