"In this world of destiny and fate, man rose to the challenges that came his way. He survived and Earth became home. As the beauty of the world around him gives joyful days of songs and mirth, he soon finds the hidden truth of the same world. The dark reality of greed, lust and envy leads him to an abyss from where he cannot return. At the end of it all, the question lingers in his mind. What was his purpose all along? Does he have free will or is he a mere puppet of a transcendental entity. As the hands of God hover above, man is pushed to the corner and loses all the powers that he thought were his own."
Dim firelight flickers from the furnace choked with oak wood, casting shadows on patrons arched over the wine bottles. The barkeep, Damvel, polishes the metal tankard with a rag as he glances at the guards sitting in one of the seats of the tavern. One of them has rough-hewn features dressed in blue velvet tunic while displaying his huge Warhammer beside an iron shield. The other is drinking and blabbering nonsense while swinging his dagger around as if it is a plaything. A beautiful woman sits on the floor near them, handcuffed and bruised. She was a slave from war, a commodity of those in power, her freedom gone. Her ragged clothes didn't take away the grandeur of her maiden body. Her pale face showed the tragedy deep within her heart. Her tiny hands and feet were as delicate as a princess of a castle, but fate demanded more from her and cast her out in the dark world of war, pain and suffering.
The air is dense with the pungent smell of blood, grease, and stale beer. Walls are rusty with posters of criminals, spirit bottles and old wines. The clatter of tankards mixes with distant echoes of approaching King's Royal Guards along with the hysterical laughter of those sitting in the tavern. Distrust and greed were the characteristics of the people of the kingdom, as survival was hard and trust was a mug's game.
The door opens to the tavern and a hulk of man hidden in a dark cloak enters.
"What do you mean by that?", said the man sitting near the barkeeper.
"Don't speak so loud Andrew, the men of the king will hear you!!", replied the Damvel.
"It's funny how things have been since his majesty lost his wife and child," sighed Andrew, "Life has been tough for us young lads already. But you know what mom always used to say to me,'It's just the wheel of fortune'. It will surely turn again to good old days soon."
"Weehoho. I hope you are right lad." replied Damvel.
"Not untill the war is over old man," sighed Andrew, "Geez I still don't understand why we have to take the sword and go to wars to swing it like maniacs. Can't we just chill and sit in peace, Damvel?"
Damvel stopped to look at the rusted weapons on the shelf and spoke vividly. "That's how the world is, son. Even if a man tries to find ways to hide his wounds, to heal his broken soul, he ends up seeking vengeance for his loss. He takes the sword to fight the forces against him. He protects his close friends and family and kills those he perceives as threat. But he soon realizes that his sword cannot protect all and mourns in the demise of his loved ones. Sigh, I guess I am too melancholic being old weehoho. Our King will one day be back to the way he used to be, kind and..."
"Your King has gone mad in his greed," interrupted the man in black cloak, "he will use everything in his power to trample Winchester. But then the Kingdom of Desmiri will lose everything. It has lost it's crops and wealth, now it will lose it's children."
Damvel looked at the man. He was as tall as the protagonist of a Webnovel about giants, disguised within a dark cloak. His arms were wrapped in blood stained bands. His eyes, under the thick black hood of his cloak, were as red as sea of blood and it was clear that vengeance was driving this monster.
"Fool, don't be so loud, the guards will hear you", pleaded Damvel.
And so they did. One of the King's Guard came forward, getting hold of the arrogant man by his collar.
"Hey Marcus, this fucking knucklehead thinks he's some bigshot!" said the Guard, showcasing his warhammer to all those present.
"What on Earth is he? He's huge!", said the drunk guard Marcus .
"A mere mortal nothing else, stand up or else we will slay you where you are!!", exclaimed Grant-The Gorilla.
"Hehe surely you will die without any torture Mr Dark Knight, don't resist", said Marcus swaying from side to side from the influence of alcohol, putting his dagger near the woman's throat," and you my pretty slave, I will make sure to trample that nice little mermaid body of yours and spend many many nights, destroying your virginity." His sinister laughter in the midst of silence was the proof of hopelessness. Andrew and Damvel could only watch in silence as their and all the innocent citizens' freedom was taken away by the ruthless King. Who on Earth could save this kingdom from destruction? Who could give them back the hope?
SLAM!! Bones crack as a humongous fist crushes the Grant's face. Marcus half charges in with his dagger and pierces the man's arm. He is unfazed, grabs his head and throws the soldier to the floor like a sac of rice. The cloak falls and reveals the man, scarred from face to toe. Bandages wrapped around his chest. What was more astounding was the sword he carried behind. It was hidden before but once the veil of the black cloak fell, the huge bloody sword shone. It was a long claymore, a lot thicker than the ordinary ones and a lot sharper too. It seemed to be infused in evil, emitting a dark aura around it. It was something meant not only to kill human. It was something that could also fight monsters or dragons. He grabs claymore one-handed and slices Grant in half. He had tried to parry with his warhammer, but it was sliced. Marcus, stood again, gasping for breathe, bloodied all over, charged at the man with a wine bottle from behind. "Behind you", shouted the woman in chains alerting him. He took his crossbow and bang!! He shoots him in the eye. Marcus gets pinned to the wooden pillar crying in overwhelming pain.
The man stands tall with anger and bloodthirst in his eyes. His body covered in blood and entrails of the dead soldier. With a voice of dominance, he said,"Tell your king, Karl Vindictus has returned to whoop his ass."
And that is the beginning of the wrath that will soon sweep all of Desmiri, and then the whole world.