Spoiler:
Prologue
“From the darkness he rose,
And saved all of mankind.
Through fire and steel,
The darkness faded away.
And the hero of legends,
Emerged, as our king.”
The sweet voice of the bard filled the room with a honeyed, smile-inducing melody. His face was smooth and nearly completely liberated of in-perfections. Smooth cheekbones, warm, blue eyes and an irresistible look meant that every damsel and wench in the vicinity longed to feel him inside. He elegantly strung each string of his harp, his fingers brushing through the strings with ease. As wenches gathered around him; a smile appeared on his face. Swiftly, he flicked his golden locks to the side and continued with the song; the bard’s words taking a much darker tone :And saved all of mankind.
Through fire and steel,
The darkness faded away.
And the hero of legends,
Emerged, as our king.”
“But there is no eternal peace,
The darkness, never rests.
For the inevitable shall happen,
And the demons, will return.”
Looking up, the bard paused the song and inspected the faces of the wenches surrounding him. They were terrified. After playing for hours, the bard was delighted to have impacted his audience in such a way. With a stretch, the man took a jug of ale from a table at his side, and drank it all in one gulp. A strong taste filled his mouth as he reclined from the jug and returned to his instrument. Only to find an old, ugly man standing before him. A pulsing vein appeared on the man’s face just above the eyebrow deprived right eye. The darkness, never rests.
For the inevitable shall happen,
And the demons, will return.”
Ugly was an understatement when describing the man in front of the bard. His jaw was jagged; his face was covered in scars and moles; a bulky, deformed nose lead to fat, bloated red lips. The man was taller than the bard, it was also clear he served. But in what army? The bard thought. With a bulging stomach and a scent of horse [&@%!] originating from him; he was a true terrible example of a war veteran.
His mouth opened to speak, his yellow and rotten teeth on show; “Your songs speak of lies, bard.” He snapped, his stare breaking the calm defence of the bard and judgmentally staring at his soul; “The darkness is long dead and gone, King Reichard made sure of that.” The bard broke the eye contact and took of his hat. He casually placed it aside and brushed his hair with a hand. One of the girls gasped in awe as the bard’s locks flew freely.
“The darkness is all around us friend, just look.” The bard replied in a calm tone. He motioned to the dark corners of the room, the inn only being lit by a few candles. A long table was placed a yard away from the group; littered with all sorts of foods. Many men sat at it, including a large group of soldiers; adorned in blue and red uniforms and chain mail; “As long as darkness exists, its spawn shall also. I’m surprised we didn’t mistake you for a child of darkness, with your ugly face and all!” The bard smirked and the wenches erupted into a giggle.
The inns main room was quite large. Candles were sent on the main table and a small lantern illuminated the far right side of the room. A door led to a large kitchen, in which the owner of the inn was cooking up a pig. A staircase in the left corner led to the hireable rooms above, where many men where currently enjoying themselves. It was easy to mistake this inn for a brothel. As the bard’s gaze darted back from the table towards the ugly veteran, a feeling of uncertainty filled him. He gulped as the old veteran lunged at the bard, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the wall.
With a punch, blood splattered across the wall and the bard yelled out in pain. He shook. Kicking wildly, the bard tried to break free: unsuccessfully. A man from the group of soldiers jumped to his feet; an average man with long, dark hair and quite thick muscles. He ran at the old coot, sword drawn. The old veteran threw the bard at a nearby stool, causing a sharp pain in the bard’s back. He twirled and faced the incoming man, fists at the ready. With a thrust, the assailant strode towards the man only to be dodged. The old man riposted with a punch to the face, but was blocked by a tall, bulky man with a face of a bull. The bull man elbowed the veteran in the face and brought his entire weight crashing down. They both fell on the floor, the bull man on top. Slowly, the bard looked up and rubbed his back. All the wenches were dispersed, either on the other sides of the room or in the hands of other patrons. The bard spat on the ground and got up; clumsily.
“And stay down!” The bull man roared. He got up and rubbed his brow, exposing the herb on his tunic. A white eagle gliding through the barren, northern wasteland. The bards gaze darted back to the other men and noticed, that they did not wear the same herb. Instead, they paraded the Vulture of Narbis. Could it be? Was I saved by the great bull of the Rais? The bard thought a she stared in awe at the captain of the guard: the son of his lord in person! The bull-man, Grenn, approached the fragile bard and held out his hand. The bard accepted it and was violently pulled up.
“Are you... Are you Grenn Rais?” The bard asked, dumb-founded. Grenn nodded and replied;
“Aye, son of Robert Rais, lord of Narbis and protector of the valley.” He spoke of the titles of his father with pride; as if he was describing himself. His dark eyes gleamed with self-confidence; “I however, am the great bull of Narbis and the avenger of the north.” The bard’s eyes widened in shock; he admired knights and warriors such as Grenn. He got on his knee and bowed to the young lord.
“It’s an honour to meet you.” Nervously, the bard replied.
“Stand up, bard. I am no lord, yet.” Grenn replied and grabbed the bard by the shoulder. With ease, the bard was picked up back on his feet. Grenn turned to the old coot and asked; “What is your name?” The veteran got up and turned to face Grenn. He raised his fist in preparation to charge at the young lord. As his eyes saw the herb, he immediately backed down.
“Rodrik, sir.” The old man replied, now nervous and timid.
“Tell me Rodrik,” Lord Grenn continued, calmly; “why did you assault this poor bard?”
“He insulted me, called me the spawn of darkness.” Rodrik explained.
“Can’t help, you’re ugly enough to be one!” The bard butted in, yelling at Rodrik. Rodrik charged at the bard, his anger immense. With one punch he broke the singers nose before being restrained by Grenn. With a thud, the bard fell on his arse and cursed. Violently, Grenn pushed Rodrik away.
“Enough!” He exclaimed, anger in his voice; “Stop acting like children an-“ He was cut off by a ear piercing scream. Confused, the patrons looked around for the source of the scream. Another, and another scream could be heard coming from the darkness of the outside world. A cold chill crept down everyone’s spine.
UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
A horn sounded in the distance, followed by a choir of yells and metal hitting metal. Grenn pulled out his sword, a long [&@%!] sword with a silver encrusted hilt. Darting his gaze at the odd 10 soldiers, he exclaimed orders; “Cargan, Eddard, head outside the inn and tell me who is attacking us.” The two designated men pull out their weapons, sturdy wooden bows and iron tipped arrows, and headed outside; being enveloped in the darkness. Grenn was about to bark out another order went multiple yells and shrieks of pain came from the outside.
“Retreat! Retreat! Re-“ A stern voice called out, evident panic growing as the next word came out. A squeak was heard as the last words were cut off. With a curse, Grenn turned to his remaining men and commanded;
“Get those windows barricaded, keep watch on the door and barricade it as soon as Cargan and Eddard return.” The men nodded and went about, 3 ran into the kitchen and demanded boards, nails and hammers from the inn keeper. A tall, muscular one with ripped sleeves exposing his muscles ran to the door and prepared to open it. Hastily, Grenn turned to the men around the inn. Most were cowering with the wenches and the bard in a dark corner; “Grab a weapon or something, and help us fortify this inn.” 5 armed men ran to help, but the remaining continued to hide. Grenn rolled his eyes and turned to Rodrik; “I assume you will be helping us?”
“Aye,” The old veteran pounded his chest; “for our lord and our king!” Grenn grinned and nodded, he gripped his sword tighter and approached the monster of a man that was defending the door. Bearing hammers, planks and nails, the three man ran out the kitchen and alongside the other men barricaded the windows. Meanwhile, two men carried a table in the direction of the door. Just as Grenn placed his hand on the door knob, Eddard burst into the room, crashing into the floor. A huge gash was present on his back, extending from his left shoulder blade to his hip. He screamed in terror and lifted his head up; revealing two gaping holes from where his eyes used to be. Blood cascaded from those wounds, leaving the man pale as a vampire. The woman screeched in horror at the gruesome sight. One started chanting a prayer to the god-king.
Grenn’s eyes broadened at the sight of poor Eddard. Clumsily, Eddard turned on is back and continued to scream; his mind filled with images of his attackers. Grenn fell on his knees and wrapped his arms around Eddard.
“Eddard! By the gods, who did this to you?!” Grenn exclaimed, staring into the Eddard’s empty sockets. Eddard clenched the young lord’s overcoat, noises of weeping coming from him.
“They’re back.” Eddard wept. He coughed as a sudden dryness filled his throat.
“Who’s back?” Grenn asked, confused. But, he couldn’t help but be have his suspicion, the bard’s tales giving him hints.
“The darkness...” Eddard whispered in a terrified tone. As he felt the last of his strengths fade away, he took a small breath; his last. Grenn looked up and used his fingers to cover Eddard’s sockets, dismay apparent on his face. A tear rolled down his cheek.
“Barricade the door, now!” Grenn exclaimed, his voice cracking from the sadness and hopelessness. The table was put in place and the door was sealed.
“Who did this?!” The tall man the door bellowed, tightening his grip on his war hammer. Anxiously, he waited for a response. Grenn opened his mouth numerous times, however, nothing came out. He didn’t believe what he was about to say.
“The... The darkness... The demons of darkness have returned” A shocked silence followed. One, that meant more than a thousand screams; “The songs were right.” Grenn spoke softly and laid Eddard on the cold, wooden floor. He rested his right arm on his knee and let the other one dangle. His sword laying on the ground. A loud thud came from outside and the wall shook. Shrieks came from the woman. Grenn jumped to his feet and picked up his sword; gripping it tightly. He spun round and faced the door. Another thud and a hole appeared in the wooden wall; a black as night elbow poking out. Splinters flew and one struck the bard, cutting his cheek. He yelled out in pain and grasped his bloodied cheek.
The demon behind the elbow retreated, and brought his entire hand through; trying to grab something. One of the men, a average, muscular man with a long sword, charged at the arm and brought his sword crashing down on it. Struggling, the soldier managed to cut into the arm halfway. Not a slightest sound of pain came from the demon as black blood poured out, revealing a dark blue bone. The soldier pulled out his sword and swung again, this time severing the arm completely. The demon retracted his arm and gave a loud hiss.
Suddenly, the door slammed opened and the table flew in the air; knocking over two soldiers and killing one. The giant that stood next to the door charged through the opening. With a swift cut, he fell on the floor, dead. In the doorway, stood a tall, black humanoid. Its bald head seemingly shone in the candlelight, its skin smooth. Ribs could be seen and its entire body was slender. It eyes were bright blue, its gaze staring into your soul and freezing your heart. Easily, the demon was carrying a two handed broadsword despite its lanky build. As Grenn’s eyes coursed the demon in horror; he noticed something. No manhood, no nothing.
An arrow buried itself in the demons shoulder, the head just coming out on the other side. The monster didn’t even flinch. Its assailant, a terrified 16 year old, stood in disbelief. It was his second week of serving under the banner of Narbis; and his last. With one stride, the demon traversed the 2 meter gap between them, knocking Grenn to the ground. In a flash, the demon was holding the young archer by the neck, raising him a foot of the ground. Another demon emerged from the door, this time one with long, partially bold white hair. A distinctive feature, was that he had a massive gaping hole in his stomach. Screams echoed through the inn, patrons from upstairs were also screaming. They scaled the wall. Grenn thought and stabbed the archers attacker through the stomach, his blade nearly cutting the demon in half.
As the others cut the demon in many places, it didn’t budge. It stood still and choked the archer to death. Grenn renounced his blade and made it crash down on the demon’s head, cutting it in half. Black blood splattered everywhere. The new demon in the doorway was assaulted by a blacksmith, carrying to hammers in hand, he smashed the demon’s chest; only to have his throat ripped out with the demon’s bare hands.
The old man watched the new demon, with a chant, a fireball appeared out of nowhere and floated casually in the man’s hand.
Thrusting, Rodrik sent the fireball and the demon, hitting it in the jaw and sending it flying back. The previous demon turned to face Rodrik and charged at him, still not dead. Rodrik spun round and murmured something, causing a white light appear. The demon cowered before the light, its eyelids nearly shut. With a yell from Rodrik, the ball of light flew at the demon and turned it into ashes. The men stood in awe at Rodrik’s capabilities, but not for long. A body came sliding down the stairs, naked and mutilated. Another demon ran through the door, it’s jaw and face scorched. It caught Grenn by surprise and dug its sword into his back. Gasping, Grenn died as the sword pierced his lungs.
Many more demons entered the inn, either via the door or stairs. Man after man, the numbers of the defenders dwindled as shock, confusion and panic took over.
“We’re doomed!” The bard exclaimed, as the women surrounding him got slaughtered.
“No, not yet.” Rodrik said calmly, his pupils disappearing and his eyes shining with a divine glow...
