A Shadow's Revenge [CLOSED]

[Vivanco]

The sun slowly rose on the horizon with the first signs of morning. The wheat had begun to flourish and the harvest looked plentiful this season. The poppies went along between the rows, painting endless seas of crimson and gold which bowed with the wind. The sound of a wood cart rumbled across the gravel-paved road.

Pulling from the cart, a bison-esque creature, a being with the stamina of a horse and the force of a bull, heavily covered in fur and goat-like horns. And driving, a dwarven folk with a straw hat covering his head. His hair was dark, his eyebrows deep and long, acting like a porch for his face. The marks of age had begun to form across his light tanned skin. His beard wasn’t the longest, but it wasn’t the shortest either, reaching his chest.

He wore a simple graying white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up. On his belt, he had a hammer, a pair of metal pincers, and a pouch. Not that he needed much more on him, as the rest of the things he carried were behind him, shaking with the sway of the cart.

There were light dings of metal like bells inside of the cart, where many metalworks and various items rested as transport. Pots, pans, hoes, axes, anything that would be essential to work in the fields, he had plenty.

“Another morning, another part of the trip done, eh?” He said to the animal that pulled from the cart. His voice was raspy, yet smooth, similar to who opens a geode and finds beauty upon the broken crystal inside. The beast made a sound of a mixture between a growl and a moo, which broke a laugh in the dwarf.

“Oh, don’t you get like that, Leenda.” he answered. “As far as I’m concerned, the sooner we get there, the sooner you’ll rest. And besides, you don’t have to deal with the customers. And I think that’s the main point of this, other than my mastery at the family forge.”

Across the stone bridge over the Thund river, he entered the Goldenlands, the most fertile lands on the Kaar. Sitting on the plains afoot of Harr-Thar (Her Rest), the colossal mountain range which crowns the realm, bathed by many and one rivers, it was the gentle heart that kept the life pumping across the land.

The first town of visit on the route was Limenite, on the northern bank of the Thund, with houses made out of the stone that the masons sent down the river on small boats. The town would hold a bit over one hundred souls, with a majority of them being of dwarven ancestry, with an important halven presence.

The halven were kin to both humans and dwarvenfolk, of joint ancestry but not product of mixture. While the dwarvenfolk were more prone to survival in caves and successfully accomplished a stable sedimentary life in the dawn of civilization, the halven took longer among the fields. Most of the surface’s holds has its origins in the Halven.

Halven were curious folks. If the dwarfs were the cogs of the machine, the halven would be the perfect engineer, with creativity twinned to their very souls. Too creative sometimes, and that was why within the Kaar they worked so well alongside the dwarfs; while one tried to fly high towards the sun, the other took deep roots in the earth, and in combination a most precious tree of civilization took place.

The scent of the wild lavender that nested on the sides of the stone bridge was almost dizzying, and the beast that pulled from the cart even sneezed, which caused a jolly laugh from the traveling dwarf. In the distance, the bell tower from Limenite could be seen, crowned in white polished stone, and as the central jewel of said crown, a round clock that could be seen all across the town from the height. The banners of the Fillian family hung on the sides; Blue like the skies above and the river beyond, and over it a bridge and a bundle of wheat in gold.

Other times, the streets would already be filled with people, busy ones at that, carrying baskets and all kinds of things to the main square, as the market would begin shortly. Merchants from all the surrounding Bann took route from town to town, much like the traveling dwarf did, and it just so happens that the first of them all, be it by design or casualty, was the Limenite one. Kids running across chasing the livestock, and their respective families chasing them back, old people keeping a keen eye on those that do not roam the town on the usual basis. That’s what a normal day would be looking like. A market day, no less.

However, as the cart entered the streets, there was no mass of people flocking to the streets. No other cart from other towns seemed to come. The streets held their breath, as if they had been left to the tempest of time. The dwarf was concerned. “Where is everyone?” He thought to himself, as his eyes narrowed. The streets were not empty at all, however, as in some small streets, between the houses, coughing people lied, as if agonizing. He took the halt to the beast, and he was quick to hop off, rushing with a skin filled with water.

“By the Mountain’s Rest! Are you alright?!?” He asked as he rushed in to hand the water to the coughing man. At this, the man opened his eyes wide and as he covered his face, already hidden among the shadows of the alley, he crawled back. “Don’t look at me! Away! Away!” He tried to warn him before coughing yet again. The dwarf stood a few meters away from him, before he left the water on the floor and walked back to the cart.

The rumble of the wooden wheel across the street felt like a funeral carriage, as all shops seemed to be shut. But one building remained, in the other end of the town, a more recent building, where people seemed to flock inside. From outside, it seemed as if the pains of the outside world were nothing but a fiction, and the ambience of the abode was obvious; A Brothel. Yet, in the circumstances of the town, this establishment should have closed first.

Something was… off.

 

[Ianmey7]

The Brothel seemed no different from any building, it was a wood and stone structure. Timbers supported the roof, and lanterns shown through the windows. This building was nothing more than that, a building. The approach however was intoxicating, some sort of spell was cast on the building. The townsfolk seemed unable to walk away, their mindless, disease ridden bodies marching ever forward. Something was wrong and our hero moved to investigate.

Despite the lanterns in the windows the building itself was near pitch black. Candles illuminated artwork on the walls depicting people with a woman, this woman was dressed in lace, with a black leather corset and wings. Her large bat like wings made the dwarf feel uneasy, but she was beautiful a beauty that made you feel safe. The dwarf readied himself, something was off.

I need to go get the authorities.

Just as he was having this thought, the door at the end of the hall opened. Inside there was an explosion of desire. People all over were enjoying the partnership of each other, but it all centered around the woman with the bat wings. She was in bed with a man, who appeared healthy but as soon as he was finished and she pulled away from him his body became marked with disease. The dwarf looked around the woman’s bed, there were men and women strewn around it they were marked with the same sickness.

The woman looked to the dwarf, her red eyes perfectly amplified by makeup. Her long black hair seemed to change to look just how the dwarf liked too. Yet everyone else still looked at her with the same lust as before, she finally spoke to the dwarf.

“Hello traveler, my name is Sara. How may we assist you, would you like a drink?”

After she asked the question, she snapped her fingers. An ale was brought to the dwarf, but it was floating on a cloud of fire. The dwarf had heard stories about such creatures, sent by a dark entity to corrupt a whole kingdom! There was still pause, something about her made it hard to think, and when she reached out her had to beckon the dwarf to come it took all his will go fight her power.

Seeing the dwarf stop himself from coming to her call the woman grew enraged. Her face went from that of a lover to an enemy in a moment, she stood and faced the dwarf the room darkened.

“Lord Salroth warned me of your kind, dwarf. I was going to give you a euphoric end, but it seems you choose pain instead.”

The woman began to fly, and the people who once looked like they were dead from disease stood once more. They began to shamble towards the hero, he didn’t know how it would end but a fight was going to happen.

 

[Vivanco]

The dwarf had little to no time to act, much less to think when the winged creature threw itself against him, striking him right in the chest. His body was taken back a meter from the force as the dwarf fell on his knees recovering his breath. He was not the fighting kind, never had been. His shirt had been ripped lightly from the first strike, but one could not fall with a simple hit.
His eyes darted across the room, as the people stumbled towards him, in vastly superior numbers. He had nothing on him to defend himself.

Nothing, but his hammer.

Standing up, he took the hammer that hung on his side, on his belt, and as the mindless people lunged at him, he defended himself, like who flattens iron after the forge. They were too many of them, and then he saw the mocking figure that held them much like a puppeteer her puppets. It was she who he had to strike, not them!

"Damned demon!" He shouted before closing his eyes and charging forward, tackling what stood in his way.

The woman smirked at the bold move by the dwarf, before flying lightly into the air and then swoop down on him with another hit. The dwarf's body flew in the air for a few seconds before smashing into the walls of the building, grunting in pain as he coughed, red starting to smear on his beard, but when he opened his eyes lightly, he saw something on her. The mark of his hammer. He had hit her.

But she did not appear wounded, not even close. Though his spirit did not die, as if she could be hit, she could be defeated, he thought.

"I shall give you the choice once again, dwarf. A pleasant end... Or pain."

The darkness that engulfed the room seemed to make her presence and threats more intimidating. He stood again, badly wounded, in silence, before he looked up.

Fury was in his eyes, a mountain's rage, the iron of the hammer, the steel of the sword. He shouted atop of his lungs, his eyes open wide, his heart running wild, as he charged again.

This was madness.

This was suicide.

"THIS SHALL NOT BE MY END!" He shouted, blinded by rage, ignoring the dangers surrounding him. He was wounded, but it seemed as if the pain was nothing but fuel him forward.

He took a leap, his eyes locked on the woman's, and his simple hammer with one objective in mind. The head.