1 A.M
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Heavy hooves struck the mud in a steady rhythm as a horse pushed through the darkness. Its beautiful coat was black enough to swallow the darkness itself. Astride it, rode a man wrapped in a dark cloak. His face could barely be seen, but if one looked closely, a faint red glow could be sighted.. is that one of his eyes? If not for the sound of the gallop, a walker by would certainly have missed them both entirely in the night. Slowly, but surely town lights appeared ahead of them.
"Let's rest you up, boy," the rider said, with a monotone and still voice.
The town lay deep asleep, its streets empty save for the few drunkards. The air smelled of wet hay and ale. At the center stood the tavern, its roof slouched with age. Orange fire bled weakly through its glass panes on both sides of the door. A stable leaned against it, unremarkable in size, timber fading and rotting away.
A man wearing a white tunic with brown trousers, sitting just in front of the stables, awake could be seen hunched beneath a lantern. Of a small stature, middle aged, dark circles lay beneath his eyes. Presumably due to lack of sleep guarding the stables, someone has to mind the horses, even at this hour.
"Oi, you there!" the ostler called out as the dark figure approached "What ya doin', Sneakin' around like that!" the ostler shouted and got up as he saw the dark figure and horse approach. Thinking the two were some kind of dark demons, he took out his little dagger, out of fear, of course. "STAY BACK YOU FIEND OF THE NIGHT!" and who could blame him, it really was a scary sight to behold.
"Relax..." he dismounted his horse and said, "I'm here to put him in the stable."
"Oh... I wasn't scared just... just- yknow" as he quickly sheathed his dagger.
"I'll be back early morning to take him," the stranger replied.
The ostler squinted at him, then grinned. "Names McCarth. Nice to meet ya, laddie. And your name is..?"
"Take good care of him."
McCarth blinked twice. "Oi don't ignore me, lad. I'm the best stable hand you'll find, I swear it. I'll look after this beauty proper, don't ya worry." He ran a hand along the horse's neck, admiring, "what's his name then? If you won't tell me yours. I Gotta know a horse's name. Helps me get to know em lad."
"You talk too much," He said frankly.
"And you talk too little lad" McCarth let out a big old laugh, then said. "C'mon lad, Fuckin... everyone's mysterious nowadays, Look at what the world's come to, anyway... Horse's name?"
"K."
McCarth frowned, "Fuckin' what?"
"K."
"Who the fuck in their right mind named this beauty that?"
"Me."
Mccarth scratched his hair, then shook his head and scoffed. "Alright lad, whatever floats your boat."
He loosened the saddle with practiced hands, checked the horse's legs, then murmured something low to himself.
"How much?" The man asked for the price.
"Hmmm y'know what..?" McCarth paused.
silence
"What." the hooded man, forced to say something or else suffer an eternity of silence.
"2 silver coins, only because I like the horse!"
He slowly takes out a pouch from beneath his cloak. Then takes out exactly two silver coins and throws it at McCarth.
"Now that's what i'm talking about lad," he looked at the two coins with precision, making sure they were both real.
The black-clad one then starts walking towards the tavern.
"Oi! See ya. First some scoundrels came threatinin' me, and now this, Fuckin'... men can't even say a simple goodbye now, world's gone to hell," McCarth mutters to himself.
He walked without haste, boots sinking into damp earth, the cloak perfectly matching his height, not touching the ground even once. Narrow alleys could be seen infront of the tavern where some filth and sadness slept. He walked for a few moments then he arrived infront of the tavern. It was quite big compared to the dwarfish stable to it's right. 'ZY's Tavern' was nailed above the door. He opened the door as it creaked loudly. As soon as he stepped in, the warmth lunged at him, hugging him from all sides.
The man shifted his hood back slightly. The tavern's lanterns revealed his brown skin and mismatched eyes. The right one was bright red, God had placed a crimson moon in his iris, the left a dull, lifeless brown. His face was expresionless, not to be mistaken with sadness or anger, but something emptier, devoid of love, one would assume he's never smiled in his life. His skin was smooth, no lines running down or across his face, his black hair falling down to his eyebrows. Using his eyes he quickly inspected the room. One girl, One man, Four monsters he thought to himself. He then walked up to the counter and sat on the stool closest to the tavern entrance.
"Water," he said to the waiter. "And Bread with meat."
The waiter was older, shoulders slumped from years of carrying more than plates. He nodded a sad and slow nod, his eyes kept drifting towards the tables at the back.
Four men sat there. Brigands, plain as day. They wore rotten leather, nicked blades worn openly, most likely stolen. A girl stood trapped in by them. One man gripped her hair. Another dragged a finger along her arm, slowly... disturbingly. While the other two stared at the girl.
"Please..." she said. "I've work-"
"Your work's right here," they all laughed with a disgusting laughter except one of them. No one noticed the man who had just entered. They were too busy with other things.
"Oi, Gareth, stop being a low life and have some fun," one of them said to the other who was sitting down.
"Nah." he said. Gareth was sitting down but looking the opposite way, nor was he interacting with the girl.
"Don't make the boss angry again, you fool!" the one standing up reminded Gareth.
The waiter returned with the water, bread and meat as requested, his hands shaking. Then he leaned in close.
"Please help," he whispered. He then nodded to the brigands, "I don't know who these men are, it's definitely their first time in this town. They told everyone in the tavern to get out," he said quietly to the cloaked one. "That girl's my daughter. They said If I interfere they'll burn my daughter and this tavern, infront of my eyes" His eyes slowly watered, sadness and sorrow more visible than lanterns could be seen in his eyes.
The cloaked man sipped on his water calmly then set the cup down, "Call the guards." he said plainly.[1]
"I can't," he whispered bowing down a little. "If they catch me gone... they'll-" He glanced back at his daughter, trembling. "God, I can't leave her with these monster for even a second. Please, I'm old." He pleaded and looked down then let out a faint smile as if remembering his young days. "I was once like you, y'know. Had broad shoulders, was a tall and strong kid," he pauses for a moment, then continues "Now I can't even defend myself, let alone my daughter, time is everyones enemy."
The all black figure let out a sigh of pity and said "I'll handle it after I finish eating."
The waiter, eyes darting to his daughter quickly said, "Thank you, but you don't even have a weapon." He was mistaken, very mistaken.
The man suddenly put down the bread he was starting to eat, then looked at the father straight in his eyes.
"I always have my sword. But I won't use it on them, they're not worthy of dying by my blade. Besides, It'd be too easy for me." He said in a serious tone.
This man's confidence in himself is crazy, the father thought to himself. "Please.. You don't understand, they're good at fighting." he finally said out aloud. The cloaked one just smiled faintly.
He then finished his food as if nothing were amiss. Unstrapped his scabbard, in which he kept his precious sword, which was hiding underneath his cloak all this time and proceeded to put it on the counter.
"Keep my sword safe." he ordered the helpless father. Just like his horse, his scabbard was beautiful, it was black too but sprinkled all over was a white pattern. Then he stood up. He walked over to the four unlucky beings, two of them were still disturbing the girl, not letting her go. Three of them were sitting on the bench while the fourth one was stood besides the table.
"I'll give you five seconds to apologize to the lady and i'll let you run out of this tavern," he said, speaking in a normal tone.
The brigands slowly turned their heads towards this man, then they all laughed except Gareth. The one standing, spat on the floor infront of the black figure.
"Or what?" he sneered.
"Five," He started his count.
"Who do you think you are?!" another said shouting.
"Four."
"Look at what he's wearing as well, what a freak."
"Three."
"Boys we got a psycho on our hands don't we, I'll carve out that red eye of yours boy. If you don't back away!" said the one who was previously gripping the girls hair.
"Two," Noticing the man in the cloak was not at all scared by their threats, the brigands looked at each other. All their attention was on this man now. The girl quickly ran to her father who was behind the counter.
Suddenly, the one standing up threw a punch aimed at the cloaked man's face. Dodged. The girls saviour easily moved his face out of harm's way. He was quick. Very quick.
"One."
"KILL HIM!" one sitting down shouted.
"Zero."
ALL three of them rose together. The one who had already missed a punch, embarrassed, tried striking again. This time the girl's saviour didn't dodge. He grabbed the incoming punch and twisted the fools fist to his left. The father and daughter watched in relief.
"AAAAAAAAA!" he screamed, a twisted arm must definitely hurt. He dropped to the floor writhing in pain.
Another one tries to unsheathe his sword.
"Oh, you want to grab your sword? Fine." But it's futile, the cloaked figure is just too fast. He shifts behind the brigand so quickly the human eye would mistake it for teleportation. Then he seizes the brigand's sword hand, guides the blade out of its sheath using the brigand's OWN grip, and drives it backward into the brigand's stomach. He angles it carefully, making sure the blade doesn't pierce all the way through to where he stands behind him. The once cocky brigand, drops on his side with his own sword inside him. One dead.
The other two are left horrified, "No.. Micah!" one of them shouts. Eyes widened as their deaths approach. Their comrade in crime is dead while another is on the floor shouting humiliatingly. The two left standing already have their swords out, at least they've gotten further than poor old Micah who couldn't even manage that, they both attack at once. Raising their swords to strike the man who has just killed their friend. The cloaked figure smoothly backs away, the swords are out of reach and hit the floor with a THANG. Without waiting he moves back in, rips the red steel out of the now dead Micah and thrusts it in the mans head, the one with the broken arm now has a broken head too with a sword stuck in it. Two dead.
The daughter who was now behind the counter, vomits. The cloaked man who was silently eating his food moments ago, has brutally just killed two men right infront of their eyes, like a knife running through butter. The two brigands who are left are now too shocked to even utter a word. One finds some courage to attack again, this time a blow swinging horizontally aiming for the cloaked head. It's hopeless. The savage killer bends both his neck and head backwards, arching low, his hood comes off, his nose can practically smell the steel sliding over his face. As the steel passes him he swiftly moves his head back up again, the cloaked hood comes back onto his head perfectly, then he uses both his left and right fists to continuously punch the foolish brigand in the ribs. The other criminal standing next to him is too scared to even move now, he doesn't want to share the same fate as the other dead two. He lets his blade go, drops on the floor, backs away and starts crying, he's too petrified to even run. But the tears won't stop his friends ribs from being shattered. Seeing his daughters condition, the father rushes her into the kitchen where she wouldn't have to witness the savagery unfolding, but it won't change a thing, she can still hear the ribs cracking. In just the first hit the brigand lets go of his sword, the pain is too much to hold onto anything. The strikes are fast, precise and powerful. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. His punches are only going for the mans ribs, the shattering of his ribs can be heard from even outside of the tavern. CRACK. CRACK. CRAC- his final blow drives through the man's chest, ribs crack inward. It drops to the floor, the thing lying with twisted ribs isn't a human anymore.. It's something else entirely now. Three dead.
Now there lay one last wretched figure on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably as tears stream down his cheeks. He's just witnessed three of his closest companions die like it was nothing, and the sight left his breath ragged, eyes wide, mouth opened in disbelief. Gareth was the last left, he had know Micah, Roderick and Thane for more than two years they were harsh sometimes to eachother, but through it all they were brothers, now they're all dead in a heartbeat.
"Please I'm sorry! Girl I'm sorry! I'll leave this cursed town-" the girl could definitely hear him from the kitchen, shouting.
"Didn't I give you five seconds to apologize and run?" he questioned the whimpering man while looking over him with a senseless face.
"You did! I'm sorry-, I'm sorry I can't die-" The pitiful criminal starts begging for his life.
He picks up the sword which Gareth had dropped moments ago and attacks...
"I HAVE A SON!" he exclaims. "If I die he won't survive, he's nine. His mother died a month ago, he has no one except me!" he cries painfully. [2]
Suddenly, the hooded man stops in his tracks, sword mid-air. If I kill this man what will become of hisson? He thought to himself.
"Why do this... when you have a child?" the man holding the weapon demands an answer and fast.
"I'm sorry-" he choked on his own words "I needed the money or else my boy would have starved to death by now!" the tall black figure looming above him did not know wheter he was lying or telling the truth.
"Where is your son?" he demanded.
"Not far, I promise-"
"Location."
"North of here, the town's called Fenwell-" he ran out of breath, then continued "Please.. that's where I live, I'll leave right now! No more stealing, no more gangs- I'll get a good job, anything! Just don't kill me... he's all I've got left!" a cry of a broken father could be heard.
"Gareth... I'm going to let you go. But if you've lied to me today, I will hunt you down, no matter where you run to. And I will kill you." he paused voice dropping even lower than before "I will visit Fenwell soon, and if I don't see you there..."[3]
"I PROMISE I WILL BE THERE AND- AND I WON'T TELL ANYONE ANYTHING OF WHAT HAPPENED TODAY!!" his voice shaking.
"Good." his voice calm and steady.
Gareth gets up and runs out the tavern doors never once looking back.
Did I make the right choice? The bandit killer asked himself.
By now the neighbours had awoken, hearing the deafening screams of the battle, no it was a massacre, not a battle. This massacre was sure to attract attention. The father frantically emerges from the kitchen, face sweating and pale, eyes darting between the bodies that lie in his tavern.
"The town patrol are bound to be here any moment, you'll die if you go out now, take this key." The father fumbled with a key ring, hands shaking. "Go upstairs end of the hall, room 3. I'll tell them these bandits turned on each other." The tavern keeper still hasn't noticed one of them had ran away. He has more important things on his mind, like the noise outside the tavern, anyone could come inside the building at any time.
The man casually turns and starts walking slowly, as if he hadn't just killed three men in cold blood. Both his fists are now engulfed in blood, mostly from shattering the ribs of Thane. He cleverly makes sure no blood drops on the floor, the guards will be here any second, he wouldn't want a trail of blood droplets leading to room three. He grabs his shiny black scabbard and walks up the stairs, opens the lock with his bloody hands and into the room he goes.
The tavern doors burst open, "THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?!"
1:34 AM
[1] Most heroes without a second thought would help the girl yet the cloaked man first tells the father to just get the guards. He's unbothered and unphased of what he sees in the world.
[2] I really wanted to show that in this world killing even the people that do deserve it could be a difficult decision to make. If he is to kill Gareth, his son would most certainly die.
[3] The cloaked man already knows gareth's name as he overheard the brigands talking to each other while waiting for his food. One of the brigand mentions gareth by name.