Dark Journey Prelude

The night air was cool against the travelers face, what little of it was not covered by his ebony hooded cloak. It had been raining all night long, as was apparent by the dampness of the ground as well as the man’s cloak. Up ahead of the dirt road he was on, was a small tavern with lights shining through the windows. Judging from the number of horses that seemed to be stabled, there were quite a few patrons visiting that night.  The man continued along the path towards the gathering of people.1

Inside, the tavern was full of people enjoying themselves in all manor of ways, drinking, gambling, the usual that you would expect from such a place.  The tender and the barmaids where busy filling orders and  taking new ones. It would seem that all of this good business tonight came from the leader of a group of men who had come to the tavern. They had been ordering rounds of drinks for all of the occupants of the tavern and everyone was more than happy to take them up on their offer. The good luck that these men seem to have had of late was about to change.2

The door to the tavern opened suddenly, the rush of warm air stinging the traveler’s face.  As the door closed behind him, his head lifted upwards taking a gaze around the room with his emerald orbs. His eyes quickly centered upon a rather large bald man with a short red beard, dressed  in the brown leather garments of a hunter. The man was stuffing his face with a leg of chicken, laughing and holding onto the waist of a young barmaid who had been sitting in the chair next to him, with his free hand.  The other men who sat with  him were likewise feeding their faces with various different types of food. 3

The stranger walked towards the table that the bearded man sat at, a few locks of his dark black hair peeking out from under his hood. Not a soul paid attention to him as he walked across the room, at least not until he finally reached his target. He stood there still, waiting to be acknowledged by the man sitting before him. It was a wait that didn’t take long, for after a moment all the eyes there were upon him. As the men at the table grew silent, so did the others in the tavern as soon all eyes in the room were upon this man.4

“Hehe, you should have seen her face when I….,” the gruff voice of the bearded man trailed off as he saw the stranger standing there, “What do you want?” he asked sharply as his hand creeping stealthily towards a knife that was at his belt. 5

“Would you be Terrin Godel?” was all that the hooded man said.6

“And what if I am?” replied the man, his hand now firmly upon the hilt of his knife, his eyes glancing to either side of him, only to receive return glances by his friends. 7

“Then I’m afraid your life would be forfeit Mr. Godel.” said the man evenly, the on lookers chuckling slightly for half the room were friends and or co-workers with the man who he had just threatened. 8

Standing up from the a table at the back of the room was a black bearded man with long black hair flowing behind him, he had a lean figure and a sword was strapped to his side. The man made his way around the table, a few others standing up to join him as he took a few long strides to the table where Terrin was sitting. Forming a half circle around the bold traveler, they stood there with bemused grins and smirks across their faces. 9

“You have a lot of courage to just walk right up into this place and demand the life of one of my friends,” the black bearded man stated,” a lot of courage or just plain stupidity. Now for your own health I suggest that you turn around and leave.”10

The man glanced about slightly to look at all those around him, responding the only way he knew how.  His hands which were inside of his cloak the whole time, were wrapped around the hilts of his swords, both strapped on either side of him. Stepping backwards he drew his swords, both had black blades that seemed to howl and shriek.  This along with his cloak flying outwards startled the others around him, giving him the time he needed to strike out first. His blades found themselves imbedded into the flesh of  two separate men to either side of him. Those poor unfortunate souls looked down in terror as the life seemed to drain right out of them, their skin no longer that of young men but instead that of decaying corpses. 11

Those around the man backed up in fear, for this man had blades which were truly bewitched by some foul art of sorcery. Terrin drew his knife and threw it the short distance across the table towards the man. Though it was to little to late for he had already dropped low to the ground, the knife striking the man directly behind him in the throat, blood squirting out of his wound as he gasped in shock, his eyes full of disbelief as he fell to the ground.  Terrin scrambled out of his seat, nearly falling backwards and began to run for the door, just as many other people had. Those who stayed and tried to block his path soon met their fate, as the tavern became a place of death screams.  12

Terrin was out of the tavern now, running across the grass that separated him from the tree line. Soon he was in the woods, running for his life, his very soul at stake. He ran at such a frantic pace that he nearly stumbled over a root of a tree that protruded from the forest floor. He just barely managed to catch himself by grabbing onto a tree. He slumped against the trunk of the tree, thinking that he must have lost the man by now, after all he had been running for the last twenty minutes straight, moving in different directions to confuse his foe. Yet, if he had lost him, why was he still shaking and shivering in his own cold sweat?13

The answer came from a rather calm voice behind him, “Terrin, you’ve been a bad boy. That family back there lost their little girl because of your sick desires.” 14

Terrin turned to face the stranger standing there, only a few feet away, both of his swords were out, and he held them to either side of him, pointing the tips towards the ground. Blood trailed down the edges of both swords, falling off as droplets that splattered against the ground. The enchanted blades howled into the night as if the promise of more blood, of another soul to feed them, drove them into a frenzy. Terrin backed up a few steps unable to believe that this would be his end, after all he had faced cutthroats and back stabbers. He looked for anything that he could use as a weapon, spotting a log on the ground he picked it up and placed it in front of him. Trying to convince himself that he would be able to defend himself against the man’s sorcery with a dead limb of a tree.15

“All those people, killed over the  rape of one little girl?” the man asked, finding it rather hard to believe.16

“The family has paid me well to deliver to them your head,” was all the man said as he took another step towards him. This was all that was needed to set Terrin off, he, lunged at the bounty hunter striking out with the log. A fool hardy move for a fool hardy man, for the bounty hunter merely ducked down low under his blow, bringing his sword up in single swipe at the mans neck. As it sliced through the man’s neck easily enough, blood squirted out and bubbled over to cover the now deceased Terrin’s carcass. The swing had so much force in it that the head traveled across the air and fell to the ground a short distance away. 17

Sheathing his swords, the man walked up to the severed head, and picked it up, placing it in a bag that he let hang at his side. Turning back towards the way to the dirt road that he had traveled to get to the tavern, he set off on his walk. It was be a long nights journey back to the town but he cared not, after all a nights pay was a nights pay.18