I don't know how many people are actually going to bother reading this, but I'm gonna post it anyway to get opinions on it. This is the story I believe I've mentioned before, which I've had on the backburner for a while. I hope to actually complete this and, if possible, have it be a novel-length story.
The very, very basic summary of the plot: it's an adventure/Western set in a fantasy world that's very similar to the Old West, following Eli Faust, a gunslinger who's searching for a stranger he has a violent vengeance against. He's joined by a mechanic-savvy teenage girl and a badass priest with a big gun, on his quest to slay the remaining members of a corrupt Sacred Order and take his revenge. Religious symbolism, bloody gunfights, Knight Templar-esque mysteries, what it is to be an outsider and the ethics of killing for a purpose are all central themes.
But you get to read chapter two. Why? I don't really know. It's just a random taster.
Also: if you're reading this, PLEASE post your opinion or any comments you may have. I'd love to hear what you think.
Enjoy.
[spoiler]Belief and spirituality were essential to the Gunman order. Almost every Gunman, it seemed, held belief in God; and those that did not hold such beliefs at least kept their tongues still. The people who lived in Alveria believed in a monotheistic religion, where there was only one God. Nobody knew of His name, but nevertheless, it was preached by priests and cardinals the land over that He was watching over them all and that He was a benevolent deity who would ensure prosperity befell those that worshippd him. The "work of God" was very important to the order, who believed they recieved their titles and abilities from some form of divine Greater Being.
But religion is a fickle thing, and not everybody believed in it in the same way as the order did. Sometimes, it seemed, God liked to play with the affairs of mortal men.
---
It was the dead of night, mere moments after the clocks chimed midnight. The sky, a dark ink-blue ocean, was speckled with thousands of tiny white stars; and the moon, a glistening silver crescent, hung serenely above the town. Ordinarily, it would have been a splendid image.
But not tonight. For tonight, the entire town was blazing.
Buildings, once tall and proud, were engulfed in a sea of crimson flames. Thick plumes of coal-grey smoke rose from the burning buildings, choking the night sky. The great blaze consumed anything it touched, razing entire settlements to the ground. It was a terrifiying sight to behold, the town bathed in a terrible - yet somehow maliciously glorious - inferno.
Upon a hill overlooking the burning town, there stood a horse - a powerful mare, black as night, with eyes like blood-stained rubies. Seated on the beast, admiring the spectacle, was a figure draped in a dark cloak and hat. In the shade of the midnight air, it was virtually impossible to distinguish his features.
"That's right, boys," spoke the dark man, addressing a group of creatures hiking slowly up the hill; they resembled humans, but their mottled flesh, partially-exposed vertebrae, gnarled talons, fang-filled jaws and abundance of glaring eyes suggested they were anything but human beings. Each of them led a portion of the townsfolk, whom were in chains - some of them were being dragged along the path, the grim bodily wounds implying they had resisted and been killed by these monsters. The shadowy man was pleased with his handiwork.
"Good job, boys. Good job." He took a look at the imprisoned townsfolk, and then the burning city. "Such a pity. I gave them a chance to surrender, but I suppose some people prefer things the hard way."
His job here was done. Lashing his steed's golden reins, he galloped off into the night. The blazing town, now beginning to smoulder, faded from view...
---
It was quiet here. The walls, made from thousands of cool grey blocks, must have reached up about at least fifty feet. Likewise, the floor was of great length, with rows of beechwood pews and a narrow red carpet trailing its way between them, leading up to the altar at the head of the church. Above the altar, and all along the walls, were magnificent stained glass windows. Not a sound could be heard. It was a peaceful place.
Eli was, by no account, a spiritual man. And yet here he was, seated on one of the front-most pews, a cigarillo held in his mouth. His gaze was fixed on the stained glass portrait in front of him, the very focal point of the church. It was a depiction of a large golden cross, surrounded by a chorus of angels. It made him think...
"Mr. Faust? Is that you, Eli?"
The voice was the first noise to be heard in a long time. Footsteps echoed through the grand, hollow building, coming from the priest slowly strolling down the hall.
"And if it is?" Eli responded, not even turning to look.
"I just didn't expect to meet you here, that's all." Father Maxwell, the parish priest, approached Eli softly. He looked at the cigarillo being smoked, but said nothing. "And what brings you here, young man?"
"Nothin' much, Padre. I just...needed to sit down. That's all."
"I think I'll join you." Father Maxwell took a seat beside Eli, hands cupped in a solemn manner on his knees. He pushed the small spectacles he wore up onto the bridge of his nose and gave a little smile. He was a number of years older than Eli, quite nearly a middle-aged man, but his face had the sculpted charm of a man half his age: not exceptionally handsome was Father Maxwell, but by no means unattractive.
There was an air of silence for a moment, until the priest spoke up again: "Why do you come here, Eli?"
Eli glanced suspiciously at Father Maxwell. "What kinda question is that?"
"I mean no offense, Eli, I'm just curious. You don't seem like a very religious person."
"I ain't, Padre." Eli blew a puff of smoke. "But this place...it's nice. Quiet. I can think here. Just sit back, relax, and think."
As Eli drifted off into his own thoughts, Father Maxwell began to idly fiddle with the cross necklace around his neck.
"Tell me, Eli, do you believe in God?"
Eli took a moment to exhale the cigarillo fumes. "Nope. I'm not one for believin' in fairy tales." A pause. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason, just idle curiosity." The priest raised the little golden cross and examined it. "God is more than just a fairy tale, Eli. We seek guidance in God, both spiritual and ethical. People such as myself have pledged their love and devotion to Him. I serve Him faithfully, Eli, and He has brought me joy and comfort."
"The big guy in the sky with the white beard?" Eli mused dryly, "I just don't buy it, Padre. But I used to know someone who did."
Father Maxwell's interest was piqued. "And who would that be?"
Eli took a deep breath, sighed and lowered the cigarillo. "My father, when I was just a little kid. Damnit, he believed in the Big Guy with everythin' he had, which wasn't much. We didn't have much back then; we were poor as hell, but my father kept on prayin' and prayin'. Every mornin', at sunrise, he'd get up an' head down to the chapel to pay his services. "God'll help us," he used to say. Lotta good that did. For all that prayin' an' devotion, he never got a single dime from the Big Guy. Not even a scrap. Everythin' he had, he busted his ass off to get." Eli took a drag on his cigarillo and quickly exhaled it again. "After that, I kinda stopped believin' in God. Far as I was concerned, if there was a God, well he could've come down an' told me so himself. I don't care much for believin' in what I can't see, Padre."
Father Maxwell nodded, having listened carefully to Eli's story. He leaned in a little closer. "Might I offer some spiritual advice?"
"Shoot, Padre."
"Perhaps, Eli, God was merely presenting that as a test of your faith. Perhaps He wanted you to put your faith in Him, despite the lack of physical evidence. For all we know, it could have been your denial of God's existence that left your family with nothing."
"What a loving guy," Eli muttered, getting to his feet. "I think I've heard enough preaching for one day, Padre. I just wanted to clear my head, not get into a religous debate."
Father Maxwell gave a knowing smile. "A Gunman must show humilience and servitude to God, correct?"
Eli, for once, was at a loss for words. The Padre was the only person who knew of Eli's relation to the order, and for the simple reason that Eli confided in him. He was, one might say, Eli's confidant. Whatever Eli had to say, Father Maxwell listened.
The priest leaned back against the pew and gazed up at the ceiling. "There is much anger in you, Eli. That much I can tell about you."
Eli didn't even turn around. "You don't say..."
"Eli, I know things haven't been easy for you, but you've got to learn to let go of your anger. Whatever is causing you to act like this, just release it. Let go of the grudge burdening your soul."
After a long, uneasy moment of silence, Eli stubbed out the remains of his cigarillo. "I can't, Padre. I've got something I gotta do, and I ain't gonna rest 'til it's done..even if I have to go down to Hell with him."
Father Maxwell chose not to say anything. Instead, he watched Eli take his leave, the sound of his boots ringing through the church. Once he had left, the elderly priest got down on one knee. Holding the cross in his clasped hands, he uttered a short prayer.
---
News of the fire spread quickly. All through the town, it was the topic on everyone's lips. There was no general concensus as to who or what started the fire and why: some people assumed it was just a freak accident, while others viewed it as sheer carelessness. Those of a more suspicious disposition believed it to be the word of a deranged arsonist, or something worse still. More than one zealous preacher spoke of the fire as the work of the Devil. No-one knew the truth for sure.
Except for one person, who had witnessed the event for himself. That person had only arrived in town earlier that morning, yet he had already gained a reputation as a delusional fool.
"More fiend than man, he was," the newcomer explained from his makeshift podium - a wooden crate in the middle of the town square. The locals had gathered around to hear him, but moreso to laugh at his mad ravings.
"He was one with the night, and even the moon trembled when he appeared," the speaker continued, "He rode a dark horse, black as night, with eyes like flames! Wherever that horse walked, a trail of shadows followed. The air itself became cold as a graveyard when he was near!"
The familiar figure of a man in a cowboy hat and grey-white clothing made his way through the crowd: Eli had heard of the so-called "nutjob" that had drifted into town, and he decided to find out what all the hubbub was about. He didn't expect to get anything useful out of it, but nevertheless, he listened intently to the speaker.
"He came down from the mountains, ravaging all in his path, and rode into town; he said something - I didn't hear what - and suddenly, a horde of vile monsters rose from the ground and overwhelmed the townsfolk! I barely escaped...I ran for my life, and when I looked back, the entire town had gone up in flames! The dark fiend rode off into the night, and was never seen again. It was terrible! And that fiend...he was like a servant of Death! Nothing less!"
It was there and then that something clicked in Eli. It was the phrase that was used - "a servant of Death" - that made him realize. There was no mistaking it: the "fiend" had to be the Dark Rider.
"Where did this happen?" Eli demanded, speaking up.
"Steelmill Port," said the speaker, "About five hundred miles from here. I had to run all the way just to get here, but I wanted to - no, had to - spread the word of this...this...this demon!"
"Steelmill Port," Eli mumbled under his breath, wondering if he had ever been there. It wasn't too far away on the map; he must have passed it on his way here. "There's no way he'd still be there," he thought to himself, "Nah, he's bound to have gone somwhere else...but even so..."
While the speaker continued to ramble on about what he thought he saw, Eli hurriedly made his way back out of the crowd. He wasted no time, sprinting as fast as he could in the direction of the local station.
"Looks like I've got a train to catch..."[/spoiler]