The young boy crept through the streets, shuffling along with the rest of the crowd. Whips and yelling could be heard from the back of the line as the crowd increased their speed. The cold air of the old town lingered among the people. The boy could hear screaming surrounding him, but he dare not to look back. He looked up at rooftops, watching in horror as the foul beasts leaped from ledge to ledge, chaperoning the crowd, waiting for one single person to be out of place. The boy and the crowd with him slowly marched through the town, heading straight towards the End. The boy knew this, as did the others in the event…but no one, not even the leaders of the event, knew what lay beyond. Only one person knew the significance of the event, one lady whom many came to know as Lady Blood. Everybody knew of her, but nobody knew her. She was the leader of the town, and the one who had created the event. But she was hidden, always discreet in her associations with the Ringmasters.
That was why it was such a shock for the townspeople that day to find her standing on a pedestal that day, telling everyone to get in a line, that the infamous, predestined event had begun. It had been written in the prophecies that the townspeople would one day see the End, the unapproached lands that surrounded their little town. They would carry out that forthcoming today. “Keep in line!” screamed one of the beasts as it jumped off of a rooftop and tackled a young man in red in front of the boy. As the boy was about to scream, a hand suddenly covered his mouth, and he was swept away from the crowd. He did not know where he was being taken, all he knew was that the townspeople’s footsteps were pulling away, and soon he couldn’t hear them at all.
He was thrown on the ground, as he let out a bloodcurdling scream as he felt around him. “Where’m I?” he yelled. The young boy had a strange accent, slightly Dutch, mostly Irish. A match was struck, and the boy could see a gnarled, dark face. “Who’re ya?” he whispered as he crept away. “My identity is not to be known, young child. But I know you,” the face said. “You’re propsin’ that ya know me? No ‘un ows me,” the boy replied. The face nodded and smiled. “Ya’d be surprised who knows you, boy.” The child looked behind him, and back at the face. “Yar from Undar, eh? I kin tell by yar accent.” The boy nodded. “Howdya know?” The face grinned. “I know a lot.” The boy got up and dusted himself off. “Then do ya know what’s over thar at the End then?” The face nodded again. “Allo me ta introduce miself.”
The face put the match over on a wall, and it caught on fire immediately. “Look whatcha did now, ya dunce!” the boy yelled in fear. “Nomstrom’s me name. I’s happens to be whatcha call a Ringmaster.” “The wall!!!” Nomstrom looked back at it. “Whatovit?” “It’s on fiar!” The child stared in horror. “So yar here to kill me then.” Nomstrom grinned at him, then put a shaggy arm over the fire. His arm engulfed in flames and the boy screamed and fell over, but the Ringmaster was calm. “Yar crazy!” “Aye” Nomstrom replied. “I’s not here ta take yar breath oway fram ya, boy. I saved ya from the End, now child.” The boy’s eyes widened. “Yees, me boy. Dis all was a muss suicide, although them poor old townspeople dont’s knar it. Yet.” “What are ya’?” the boy asked in fear. Nomstrum unleashed a devilish grin. “I’m what’s known as Lady Blood.”
