Black Ice studios

(This is the prologue chapter, not the first chapter of the book, I may or may not make this, it takes a lot out of me thinking of the words, but is rewarding.)

A raven cried out overhead, the sound echoing through the air. Its feathers were pitch black, glistening from the dampness of blood, left from a kill long ago. This particular raven was not even remotely close to being what it appeared to be. With sharp cracking sounds, the raven bent its wings completely backwards and downwards, as if they would be arms. It grew in size, curved talons gripping harder into the building it was perched upon, shattering stone. A beak, short and razor sharp, was slowly sucked into the head. Feathers flattened against the body, fading into a pattern on the skin and finally disappearing, leaving a black cloak. As the bird’s head reformed into a human skull, wings turned to arms simultaneously. This creature reached behind and pulled the now formed darkly colored cloak tightly around its body, slinging a hood over its cranium. The entire process consumed but a minute, and the figure, no longer bird, neither human, stood from the crouched form it was formerly in.
“The raids have continued,” The figure uttered in short clacking noises, as if it had grown used to the feel of an avian beak. “Do they suspect? I have had my doubts as to the effectiveness of this plan.”
The words seemed to be spoken to no one, but they had an effect. Across was another building, with ancient carved statues dotting the top, old guardians of superstition, grotesques and gargoyles. A sound of grinding rock shook the air, the building across from the speaker shuddering from blunt trauma, as a second being detached itself from what was a moment ago solid rock. Clouds above parted for a moment, moonlight reaching down for the earth.
The gargoyle was caught in full moonlight, revealing itself for what it was. A living creature entirely composed of granite, it was a curiosity to rational thinkers. Hard stone wings burst apart from its back, unfurling into the crisp skies. It had a nearly four meter wingspan, and was a predator in all aspects; curved deadly claws on all four limbs, excluding the wings, sharpened horns atop its head, with a very short beak in place of a mouth, akin to lips if one had not looked a second time, a mouth filled with large stone teeth, all flat and obviously meant for crushing apart anything that it could bite. It opened its mouth, not entirely beak, not entirely lips, and sucked in a deep breath. For that moment one could see a fire inside, burning brightly, the gargoyle could breath fire as well. It exhaled, appearing content with its surroundings, and ****ed its head to the side, staring intently at the other that was a raven moments ago.
The gargoyle spoke. “Aye, there was always caution, yet it has grown in the past months. Sightings have been seen of a raven in the area, you let yourself be seen.”
The raven-man twisted his face into a furious glare, and snapped back. “Exactly what do you propose we act in response to this? I hate Dark Elves, inquisitive beasts, they tend to stare, and I was seen.”
“And now the sentries will be arming with those tipped arrows you know they like to use so often, you would not live another night flying overhead.”
He leaned back against the roof, eyes staring, searching for some hint in the gargoyle’s face. There was a deep friendship between the two, dating centuries back. It was an incident having to do with other gargoyles, and not at all as civil like the one in front of him. Something about a sacred rock, the tribe had begun dropping other clans into active volcanoes, this one was to be a victim, and a raven man had slain several of the wild gargoyles, saving the one. They had ever since aided the other in their outgoings. It was a strong friendship, no matter the odds against two beings of their natures working together.
“Well then I suppose that I shall warn my master. And my brother as well to roam the skies” He turned his cape shrouded head in disgust, he detested the aforementioned brother, they had always contested for their masters sympathy, ending ultimately in a blood feud. However, it was constant as they both served the same goal and master.
“What are your plans?” The gargoyle rasped with a hard tongue. “It is undeniable that we are known now. There will be casualties, and I don’t intend to be one. Dark Elves don’t give up, not when they’ve started a chase.”
“Their mistress is stirring in her realm. I would give it a month until she awakens, and then you know what will happen.”
With grating teeth, the gargoyle responded. “Damn, the world would not be able to stand the fury of Hel. I see that we don’t have time for reconnaissance any more.”
“I shall go then to deliver the message to my master. It is time once again, the world shall be in need of assistance from the gods. To save from the gods. Our kinds shall stalk the earth once more.”
With a sweeping gesture, the raven man grabbed the fabric of his cloak and spread it wide. Looking down unto the streets below, his shadow cast resembled a large foreboding raven. He steadied himself against the shingles of the roof he had stood on while talking, and jumped. The wind whistled around the falling body, tossing and turning. A black shroud enveloped him, shaping and stretching, the figure within perceptibly changing, limbs poking out, bones cracking, feathers reforming. As the wind increased its howling through the deserted alleyway below, the darkness cleared, and out flew the raven, pitch black. It flapped wings to gain altitude, flying high into the approaching dawn, above the gargoyles perch.
“You have never told me, but I have guessed from the many hints, who is your master?” The call was heard from the building below, up to the ascending raven.
Branching off into a turn back, the raven hovered high above the living stone under him. “My master? He is the one who sees all, knows all. I and my brother Huginn are his ears and eyes of the modern world, thought and memory, we are Odin’s birds. Odin, the one eyed god, the ruler of Asgard, he is the one commanding us.”
With those parting words, the raven, Muninn, flew off, up into the clouds. At the moment of true dawn, when the sun rose and met the heavens, there was an explosion of light and color, and the raven was gone. Left behind, the signifying mark, was an Aurora Borealis, the strands of green and blue twisting and curling away.
Down below on the rooftop a lone gargoyle stood in salute, watching the last traces of the spectacular display that had occurred. He grunted with a tone of indifference, a hint of a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth. He then spoke to himself.
“Muninn is in good hands, Odin, what a powerful being! But will he be enough to stop the wrath of that evil one Hel? Her Dark Elves are sly, cunning, and always deadly. It is bad that our spying has been exposed, but will be all the more undeniably worse if we do not retrieve what is lost. The key to ultimate power is held within our goal, the prison world of Hel will open and let out Hel if we do not get back what was stolen.”