Hound of Hell you Cry


Stealth Dragon

Rating – T for violence and scary stuff.

Disclaimer – I don't own Stargate Atlantis, its characters, its aliens, its planets, or a stargate.

Synopsis – Col. Sheppard is stranded on another world in a village where people are mysteriously vanishing, and the team races to find him. Plenty of whump, mystery, action, adventure, and a little horror. The title comes from the Rob Zombie song Dragula, which is also not mine.

A/N: Here's another long one for ya'll. I know I said I wasn't going to do a chapter story for a while, but it's been a while, plus it was so much fun just to think up that I had to write it, and I've been having fun writing it as well. The idea for this story was inspired by the book Vampire Hunter D, though no vampires were involved – or harmed - in the making of this story. It's also a partial WIP, in that it's still being written but almost complete. So updates will be anywhere from two to three a week until it's done, which hopefully won't take long unless the chapters give me grief. Rest assured, this story will have an ending. What happens towards the end is the reason why I wrote this story to begin with.


Was this what it was like to feel fear?

The wraith moved at a crouch. Numberless centuries to perfect stealth had formed it into a natural action. He made no sound in the darkness, even with his breathing labored, and plenty of rubble for his feet to smash. Darkness wasn't absolute for his eyes, so he saw the obstacles and where to step around them. His movements were agonizingly slow to keep the silence wrapped around him.

Except there were some noises no amount of methodicalness could cover, like the beating of his heart. It could hear him just fine, and probably see him just fine.

The wraith listened in return, and heard the muffled thunder of it's heart, loud and everywhere. He felt the walls of the corridor around him give way to a massive chamber moaning from the wind squeezing through the chinks and cracks of the structure. The air smelled fresher here, and the wraith felt the wind stirring his hair and brushing across his bare arms. The hole where they'd entered was close by. His companion, however, was not, and more than likely had already left. He sensed his brother, just not with the finer clarity closer proximity afforded.

The wraith followed the stronger wind gusts and the scent of untainted air and plant life. He saw, cutting through the darkness like a pillar, water blue light spilling onto the floor and contained by shadows. The wraith quickened his steps toward that light. Urgency, that was all that he was feeling. The need to get out, rearm, then return to finish the job. He needed sustenance as well, which was just as easy to come by. With a weapon and with strength, he and his companion would prove a better match for the thing.

More of a match. The thing was wounded, so now was the time to strike.

The crashing of the massive heart was all around the wraith now. He lifted his head to hear, then slowed on catching the scent of strong decay.

It was here, in this chamber. The wraith's heart pounded. Then he increased his steps, faster and faster, going from a quick walk to a run. He heard the deep, resonating whuff of breath exhaled out of powerful lungs. The wraith was almost to the ceiling hole. He veered to the right and the wall where fallen beams and rubble created the stairway to the exit. He started scaling the debris while behind him claws clacked and small stones clattered.

A high, gutteral purr echoed sharp off the walls. The wraith dug his claws into one rotted beam, then into the next. He was closer now, could see the stars through the hole. Closer now...

A shriek tore through the silence like claws through flesh, high and rising, like metal being torn in half. The beam beneath the wraith shuddered and cracked when a heavy body impacted, knocking the wraith's grip free and sending him falling back into the void below. He hit the floor with a crunch, bones shattering like wood, already knitting but slow to heal due to exhaustion and hunger. The wraith rolled onto its chest with a grimace and hiss.

He started to push himself up with his hands, only to be slammed back to the floor by a heavy body of scales and thick muscle. The gutteral purr vibrated through the wraith's skull, and fetid breath brushed his skin. A clawed foot pressed into his lower back.

Is this what it's like to be prey? He was given no more time to ponder the question. Two sharp prongs pierced him through either flank, driving in deep to the lungs and heart. The wraith roared from the pain of its life force being sucked from it, thousands upon thousands of years, giving the wraith a taste of what it was like to age, a brief taste. Then the pain ended, and so did his life.