August 23, 2011 at 8:25 am (Fantasy, Fiction, screenplay, the oracle) ()

Viktor flings against the wall. His broad and plump body cannot protect him anymore from the fist. He flops down on floor, heaving a heavy sigh, his forehead is sopping with sweat. His right eye is swollen, his vision is obscure.

With his limited vision, from his left eye, he could see blurry amble steps. Once the feet draw nearer, Viktor could see a pair of black boots with extraordinary gold lines embroidered on the side boots.

The boot wallops his face. Viktor spits blood. Before he realizes, a hand reaches his neck and tightens, thus lifts him off his feet. He croaks for mercy.

We can see Henry, a long white haired man, in his mid 30s, white eyes as a sign of blindness, but his savage demeanor doesn’t urge sympathy.

“Where is he?” says Henry.

Viktor only croaks. His hands extricate Henry’s hand, trying to loose it, but he fails. His face is red, he is starkly suffocated. Tears are flowing from his rimmed eyes.

Viktor flops down on floor, motionless. His mouth is wide opened, and his eyes are struck in horror. We can see deep fingers mark on his neck.

“Only the dead can tell secret,” mutters Henry. He looks over his shoulder, to a cowardly orc who is frightened of him. “Bring him into the crater.”


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