Feredir's Summoning

[UlrichAcheronNacht]

I got bored and wrote this sometime last year; it's not my best work, but it isn't bad. Some of the wording is awkward and stuff. I might want to edit this, not sure. Also, please don't mind the lack of indents, they didn't work for some reason.

The footsteps echoed through the virtually-empty manor, followed by the unmistakable cock of a gun. Its wielder was a short and very well-muscled stocky man – he was dressed in overalls, a shirt made of various patches of other shirts, and a pair of very old boots. He was balding and in his late fifties.
Now, one may wonder why Gob was in the desolate, eerie manor in the middle of an almost-isolated countryside. The answer to that is that he had seen a lanky figure drag his beloved teenage daughter into that very place from his nearby farm. With Anna taken, he had nothing else; since the passing of his wife during childbirth.
Since there was no trail, Gob was traveling from corridor to corridor, waving his shotgun around to blast the bastard kidnapper straight to Hell. Luckily for Gob – unfortunately would be better; but he did want to find dear Anna – whom was tied to a crucifix hanging over a sinister altar. Behind the altar, the figure stood tall, its pointed teeth shined in the dim moonlight pouring through the window.
Once he raised the double-barreled boomstick, Gob felt it be wrenched from his hands. Not even a blink was made by the poor farmer before the vampire dashed over the altar and stood, towering over the old man. When his eyes opened, the shotgun's stock was driven into his gut. Gob gasped out in pain and bent forwards, both hands grasping his wounded stomach. Then he fell back, holding his face with blood gushing like a sticky, crimson water fountain from his nostrils and mouth. The figure pulled the shotgun back and let it fly from his hand.
“No doubt your nose is broken and I probably cracked your skull...” Fredrich's voice was raspy, as if he hadn't spoken in years.
Gob groaned out in response, there wasn't much talking he wanted to do.
Then, two sounds rang out: the sound of a shotgun slamming onto the floor and a 12-gauge slug firing into the wall beside the nearby window. It was dumb luck, because a giant splinter of wood landed beside the old man - plus the vampire ignored the discharge.
The kidnapper was staring at the girl, grinning, “Ever since I encountered your daughter during my return from a holiday, I cannot say I've met a girl that smells so pure, her blood so... delicious!” The fiendish count licked his lips and teeth in sick, macabre delight.
Gob had seen his fair share of vampire films – he knew exactly what the monster before him was. Although the monster was donning human flesh and a well-tailored black suit, it was just a clever ruse. A cliçhe masquerade that one wouldn't easily suspect.
The farmer took the splinter with one hand and silently pushed himself to his feet, trotting towards the distracted vampire. Sheer luck helped Gob again – the vampire was too occupied with planning for the upcoming ceremony in his mind to bother with the wounded farmer. The old man stood behind Fredrich and reached around to stab the enormous splinter into the thing's right breast.
Count Fredrich squealed out in agony and reached up to grab the crude wooden stake; he wrenched it free so he could bring it around to stab into the farmer's firm gut. Surprisingly enough, it was able to sustain being thrusted into two bodies without being obliterated – especially with the vampire's innate strength.
Another scream filled the manor, followed by the scream of the first screamer's daughter. Anna had awoken to witness a well-dressed man – the one that had kidnapped her and knocked her unconscious – stabbing her father. Terrorized high-pitched screams left her lungs in long breaths. The crucifix she was bound to tilted backwards and descended onto the dreaded altar, right before her father's eyes.
Fredrich cursed the farmer, “Pathetic human, your attempts are in vain. You're too much of a damned idiot to evens sab the right side of my chest! Did nothing but hurt like a bitch...” The vampire ignored the screams of his victims while he spoke in a voice quite cool considering the situation. With the tone of his voice, there was no doubt he was a cold-blooded monster...
Fredrich walked behind the altar and retrieved four things: a fairly large hammer and three very large nails. He stepped in front of the pleading Anna; paying no heed to her begging for him to stop, she said she didn't do a thing, that she was innocent, that he had no reason to harm her.
He smirked and licked his teeth while pressing the first nail to her left hand's palm. He slammed the hammer down on the head of the nail with tremendous force – sending it straight through flesh and bone, then directly into the wooden crucifix the victim laid on. It made a squelching noise upon piercing the hand. She made a screaming noise, filled with pain and fear. He made an amused noise, filled with sadistic, psychotic, violent mirth.
The cruel process labored on, continuing next with her unharmed hand. He had to slam the hammer twice to pierce the nail through her feet, but he was able to do so with relative ease.
Fredrich stood back for a moment to survey his work; a sixteen-year-old girl was crucified – blood flowed down from her hands freely, crimson droplets danced down, cascading upon the black altar beneath her. The blood from her feet formed a scarlet tide washing down the crucifix and into the basin set into the altar's top. The macabre structure was crafted of the bones of humans, moulded together with the skulls of an adult male, adult female, infantile male, and infantile female decorating the edges. The altar's sides were covered with patches of human flesh; the basin was the brain cavity of an enormous man, filled with the blood of a virgin girl.
“Now, while I wait for him to come, I shall feed on you,” Fredrich murmured to the barely-conscious father. The old man was hefted into the air, held by the back of his neck – akin to the manner in which a mother cat carries her young. The vampire leaned forwards and pressed his teeth down into Gob's jugular – simultaneously injecting the venom which causes the disease commonly referred to as “vampirism”; while also using the bite to sate Fredrich's bloodthirsty desires.
Shocked by a massive tremor that broke through the manor, Fredrich broke away and dropped his feeding bag to the ground. Gob bade not an audible noise, but writhed around almost silently, but quite madly as the venom coursed through his revivifying veins.
The vampire watched the altar, as numerous tendrils of darkness licked out from the basin of blood. From the darkness, a certain evil emanated through the air – the very air itself seemed to deaden when nearing the tendrils. More of the things slipped out, encasing the entire room.
At the center of the main source of evil in the room – the basin – a seven foot tall half-elf emerged, with jet-black hair that fell to the base of his jaw. The intimidating figure was swathed in shadows, a stark contrast from his porcelain-toned flesh. Both of his eyes were filled with auburn circles that held slitted pupils, they were reminiscent of a cold-blooded reptile's.
“L-Lord Feredir,” Spouted Fredrich as he dropped to his knees and lifted both hands into the air, then brought them down – as if he was worshipping the halfblood. “It is good to have you return!” The room was silent, aside from Anna's tortured screams and Gob's frenzied moments as the disease began to take hold. Feredir glanced at the vampire, to the girl, then her father.
The half-elf shook his head, an unsettling grimace on his face. His voice was deep, it boomed through all of the darkness in the room like an amplifier, “You are a fool. The girl's father was, as well. He was courageous though – much more than you, Fredrich. The God of Death, Evil Pain, and whatever else you rotting undead /fucks/ worship me for isn't sated or appeased with the blood of a helpless girl. You were smart enough to figure out the last component was female, though...”
Fredrich's eyes widened in realization at what his master was suggesting. He let out a cry and folded his hands, then brought them level with his face. Tears brimmed in the corners of his eyes, tracing down his cheeks, “Please, my Lord! Have mercy!”
“I shall, on all of you!”
“Truly?”
“Truly,” Came the answer from the half-elf.
He was answered with Fredrich's screams as a pair of bladed tentacles emerged from the darkness – as if they were a solidified form of it. Agonized screams raised to a crescendo as the twin tendrils pierced the vampire's stomach, then ripped out in opposite directions. One tore through Fredrich's chest, the other slice his groin in 'twin when the first tendril was halfway through the chest.
Fleshy “plops” sang through the room of death as Fredrich watched his innards spill sloppily out onto the floor. The vampire convulsed madly, screeching louder than both of his victims had. The tentacles lobbed the body into the abysmal depths of darkness that filled the room. Crunching sounds echoed forth as the monster was devoured by his God and master.
Feredir turned to the newly-infected vampire and snapped his fingers. Gob's crimson eyes rolled back into his head before flesh, bone, and gray matter ripped apart to paint the room, Anna, the altar, and the crucifix with their distinctly different colors. Gob's innards were strewn across the room, as well, all that remained of the poor bastard after he exploded.
Feredir's flesh stayed clean, his darkness coiled around his body to wipe away the various hunks of meat, organs, blood, or bone that flew at him. The half-elf's porcelain-colored hand stroked Anna's cheek while she screamed wildly. Her screams were becoming hoarse from the sheer amount of constant crying and its intensity.
But it stopped and Anna was no more – devoured entirely by Feredir's mere tough against her flesh – all of her life was sucked out of her body, then the lifeless corpse was left to his darkness to scavenge and ravenously devour the quite-complete remains and the crucifix the body was pinned to.
The half-elf walked outside and floated into the air. From above, he sent down a bloody rain that blanketed the manor's lawn with fantastic cursive “penmanship” that read: “REMEMBER FEREDIR NACHT, THE HALF-BLOODED GOD OF DEATH.”
With his message written for all to see, Feredir's presence was no longer needed. So, he dissipated and scattered into the shadows; to travel the world by virtue of any miniscule speck of darkness.