The Keepers of Chaos: A Vault of Hell

Herod Westwood: XL

Phoenix: XL

Herod wrapped his hands around the silver blade's edge, the long sword bared itself to him as he pulled Herod perceived its edge cutting into his fingers slicing his thumb and pointers open as blood ran down them. He was gripping it blade first, this.. Was necessary. He watched his blood trickle down the sword's surface as it ran, the blood turned green and etched into its fullers and shives, decorating the blade with a unique pattern forged from his blood. Herod surged with strength. This was it. He would no longer be that cripple, that boy unable to do anything a boy destined.. No, damned to die. Herod pulled the blade free at last as the pain in his gut subsided and his body felt stronger than it had ever been.

"Herod Cervos Westwood!" Herod flinched hearing his full name, Herod rolled the wheels of his chair through the porch trying to reach his mother. Her harsh tongue spelling the mood she was in. Herod turned a corner on the home before he found himself face to face with his mother. Her brown eyes were stern and angry as she bit her lip. "Where have you been?!" Herod faked a flinch as she asked that, he wasn't scared, just annoyed.

"I've just been in the town mom.. I left home like five minutes ago." Herod groaned trying to find a way out. His mother studied him dutifully, analyzing his every expression.

"And you didn't bring your wheelchair?" Herod actually spazzed a little, damn he thought, she actually noticed. Herod had tried to be careful to climb back into his wheelchair before he got home.. He looked down and grumbled a small response he had been practicing! Herod knew this.. He had worked hard on walking right.

"I've been practicing!" Herod protested. "I can go nearly an hour now!" He cried but his mother waved her hand as if she had heard enough.

"You know someone.. Of your.. Condition." Herod's mother spoke softly at the word condition, god's if there were any she was so patronizing. Stupid whore.. Herod thought, probably mean but.. He didn't care. Who was gonna stop him? Gods? The spineless ass's if they even did exist, couldn't punish him any further.

"You mean someone dying?!" Herod bit back bitterly, he was sick of dancing around the word, the doctors had already been so very helpful. Herod knew it very well, dead by eighteen, four more years huh? He thought to himself, four more years of absolute misery.. He dreaded it. Herod tried to put on a brave face but he knew to himself just how much he dreaded the idea.. Death.. And he.. Hadn't even been able to do anything.. Stuck here! In this damned home..

"Dont.." Herod's mother started but she stopped as she turned her head. "I have a thing.." He rolled his eyes. She meant a client, a damned whore Herod rolled his chair away, "Please be safe Hero-" Herod could hear her get cut off as she kept the appointment. He looked around him carefully, Herod took three deep breaths. It was now or never.. He rolled away until he was out of view. He paced himself mentally, every inch of what he was about to do shooting through his brain. Herod wouldn't die a bored lackless boy.. He refused. Herod slowly climbed out of his chair and moved forward. Reaching into his cotton pants Herod pulled a small note out setting it on his chair, if he didnt make it out at least they would all know where to get him. He was in.. Herod almost laughed, 'The gods' hands now.' Under the porch of the house Herod reached to grip.

"Yes!" Herod snickered a small pack.. The one he had been saving, for so long, even now his mother hadn't noticed it. He gripped the back shouldering it happily. He hadn't been in town to simply look around.. Gripping the knife in his sleeve Herod ran through the back of his house. Behind it the open woods invited him. Herod looked back at his distant house, the woods held their arms out for him, and he happily embraced it.

Herod knew he had to be careful, pacing through the woods he tread carefully Herod hated being this weak he hated not having the basic strength to stand very well. All those stories.. The ones he heard from men coming in and out of his home everyday.. Adventure woods full of treasures and.. Monsters.. Herod gripped his knife and prepared himself, he would be fine! Fir trees along with mighty oaks surrounded him with their deep thick roots spiraled into the ground.. They connect to everything. Herod frowned where did that thought come from? He felt almost.. Heavy like in that of a dream. He shook it away. Herod took a deep breath, his stomach clenched in pain, 'the grip' such an accurate name Herod told himself, gods it could hurt sometimes, making it near impossible to move right. But gods and cancers had nothing on him, he had been training! Herod marched onward these woods had nothing on him nothing!-