The Farm – Morning
(Druk is sitting under a large tree, lazily chewing on a piece of straw. The old farmer, Gavril, is tending to his crops. Druk's two friends, Mira and Jerek, are sparring in the distance with wooden sticks.)
Gavril: (grumbling) "Druk, if you're gonna laze around all day, at least pretend to be useful. These crops won't water themselves."
Druk: (grinning) "Relax, old man. If anyone messes with your precious carrots, I'll make sure they regret it. I'm your guard dog, remember?"
Gavril: "Guard dog, my foot. You're more like a stray that wandered in and won't leave."
Druk: (chuckling) "A stray who saved your life, might I add."
Mira: (walking over, panting) "Druk, stop teasing Gavril and spar with us. You're getting rusty."
Druk: (stretching) "Rusty? Me? Mira, I've fought more battles than you've had breakfasts."
Jerek: (laughing) "And yet you've never beaten me in a drinking contest."
Druk: "That's because I value my brain cells, Jerek. Unlike you."
(They all laugh, the camaraderie clear. Suddenly, Gavril's face grows serious as he spots a group of armed men approaching in the distance.)
Gavril: (whispering) "Druk… trouble."
Scene: The Confrontation
(Druk stands casually, leaning on his stick as the gang approaches. The leader, a scarred man with a cruel smile, steps forward.)
Gang Leader: "Well, well. What do we have here? A quiet little farm ripe for the taking."
Druk: (yawning) "Ripe for the taking? Sorry, but the only thing ripe here are Gavril's onions."
Gang Leader: (snarling) "You think you're funny, boy? We've got swords. You've got… a stick."
Druk: (grinning) "And yet, I'm the one smiling. Funny how that works, huh?"
Mira: (whispering to Jerek) "Is he serious right now? He's just messing with them."
Jerek: (nervously) "I've seen this before. When he smiles like that… it's over."
(The gang charges, and Druk's demeanor changes in an instant. He grips the stick tightly, his movements sharp and precise.)
Fight Scene: The Gruesome Dance
(Druk sidesteps the first attacker, swinging his stick with a sickening crack to the man's knee. The attacker collapses, screaming.)
Druk: (calmly) "One down. Who's next?"
(Another thug lunges, and Druk spins, jabbing the stick into the man's throat. The thug chokes, clawing at his neck as he falls.)
Gang Leader: (roaring) "Kill him!"
(Druk moves like a whirlwind, his stick a blur. He slams it into another attacker's face, shattering his jaw. Blood sprays across the dirt. Another tries to flank him, but Druk whirls, impaling the stick through the man's eye.)
Druk: (mocking) "You guys should really consider a career change. Farming, maybe?"
(The gang leader charges, swinging wildly. Druk ducks under the blade, disarms him with a sharp twist, and delivers a final, brutal strike to the man's skull. The leader collapses, lifeless.)
Scene: Aftermath
(The bodies of the gang members litter the ground. Druk is breathing heavily, his stick dripping with blood. Mira and Jerek stare in stunned silence.)
Mira: (softly) "You… killed them all."
Druk: (shrugging) "They didn't leave me much of a choice. Besides…" (grinning) "they were bad for business."
Gavril: (shaking his head) "You're a monster when you fight, boy. But I suppose I owe you another meal."
Druk: (grinning) "Make it two meals, old man. Fighting makes me hungry."
(Despite the gruesome scene, Druk's silly charm remains. The group heads back to the farmhouse, leaving the blood-soaked field behind.)
The Fallout and Reflection
(As the group walks back to the farmhouse, Mira can't take her eyes off Druk. The contrast between his silly demeanor and the brutality of what they'd just witnessed unsettles her. Jerek, on the other hand, breaks the tension with his usual humor.)
Jerek: (nudging Druk) "You know, I'm starting to think you like killing a little too much. Maybe we should keep you on a leash, huh?"
Druk: (grinning) "A leash? Sure, but only if it's a golden one. I've got standards."
Gavril: (gruffly) "Standards, my foot. You're a stray mutt, Druk. A dangerous one at that."
Mira: (snapping) "Stop joking about it! Those men are dead, Druk. You… you didn't even hesitate."
(Druk pauses, his grin fading for the first time. He looks at Mira with a strange mix of amusement and something darker.)
Druk: "Hesitate? Mira, I've spent the last ten years fighting. Do you know what happens when you hesitate in a kingdom like this?"
Mira: (softly) "You die."
Druk: (nodding) "Exactly. I've seen it too many times. Kids like us, torn apart because we were too soft, too slow, too scared. I decided a long time ago that if I was going to survive, I'd have to be faster, stronger… and meaner."
Mira: "But we're not in that kingdom anymore. This is different."
Druk: (chuckling) "Different? Look around, Mira. Trouble follows us wherever we go. I just make sure I finish the fight before it starts."
(Jerek and Gavril exchange a look, neither daring to interrupt. Mira shakes her head and storms off toward the farmhouse.)
Scene: Later That Night – Around the Fire
(The group sits around a crackling fire outside the farmhouse. Gavril cooks a stew while Druk sharpens his stick with a knife. Mira is still visibly upset, but Druk seems unbothered, as usual.)
Gavril: "So, what's the plan now? Those thugs won't be the last. Word gets around fast in these parts."
Druk: (calmly) "Let them come. The more, the merrier."
Mira: (snapping) "You're impossible, Druk! Do you even care about anything? Or anyone? Or is this all just a game to you?"
(Druk stops sharpening his stick and looks at her, his expression unreadable.)
Druk: "Care? Of course, I care. About this farm, about Gavril, about you and Jerek. Why do you think I fight?"
Mira: "Because you like it."
Druk: (softly) "No. I fight because it's the only thing I know how to do. And because if I don't… someone else will. And they won't stop with me. They'll hurt all of you, too."
(His words hang in the air. For a moment, even Mira seems to understand the weight of his burden.)
Scene: The Gang's Revenge
(Unbeknownst to the group, a lone survivor from the gang stumbles into a nearby town, spreading news of Druk's bloody deeds. Within days, a larger, more organized group is assembled—a ruthless band of mercenaries armed with steel and bent on revenge. The farmer's land becomes a target, and the group prepares for a siege.)
(As the sun sets, Druk stands at the edge of the farm, his stick resting on his shoulder. Gavril approaches him, holding a small pouch.)
Gavril: "Here. It's all the coin I've got. Take it and leave. You don't owe us anything."
Druk: (grinning) "Nice try, old man, but I'm not going anywhere. Besides, I'd miss your cooking too much."
Gavril: (sighing) "You're a fool, boy. You think you can take them all on by yourself?"
Druk: (mocking) "By myself? Gavril, you're forgetting about your secret weapon."
Gavril: (raising an eyebrow) "What secret weapon?"
Druk: (winking) "Me, of course."
(As the mercenaries approach under the cover of darkness, Druk prepares for battle. He dons a simple cloth over his head to keep sweat from his eyes and dips the tip of his stick into a fire, charring it to a deadly point. Mira and Jerek stand beside him, armed with crude weapons. Despite the danger, Druk's confidence remains unshaken.)
Mira: (nervously) "We're outnumbered ten to one. Are you sure about this?"
Druk: (grinning) "Outnumbered? Nah. I'd call it a fair fight."
(As the mercenaries charge, Druk leads the defense with a mix of brutal efficiency and unrelenting ferocity. The fight is bloody and chaotic, but by dawn, the farm is littered with the bodies of their enemies. Druk stands victorious, his stick broken but his spirit unscathed.)
Scene: A Quiet Morning After the Battle
(The sun rises over the farm, casting long shadows across the blood-soaked field. Gavril surveys the damage, his face lined with exhaustion. Mira and Jerek tend to minor injuries. Druk sits alone, staring at the horizon.)
Mira: (approaching him) "You did it again. Saved us."
Druk: (softly) "Yeah… but for how long?"
Mira: (sitting beside him) "You can't keep fighting forever, Druk. There has to be more to life than this."
Druk: (smiling faintly) "Maybe there is. But for now… this is all I've got."
The General Arrives
(It's midday at the farm, the sun high and blazing. Druk lounges under a tree, chewing on a blade of grass, while Mira and Jerek argue about something trivial nearby. Gavril tends to the crops. Suddenly, the distant sound of hooves thundering interrupts the peace. A small squad of armored soldiers, led by a man with a commanding presence, approaches the farm.)
Gavril: (wiping his brow) "Looks like trouble."
Druk: (sitting up, stretching lazily) "Relax, old man. Maybe they're just here for some turnips."
(The squad halts in front of the farm. The leader dismounts—a tall, imposing figure with a scar running from his temple to his jaw. His armor gleams, and his piercing eyes scan the group with authority.)
General Loras: (firmly) "I am General Loras of the King's Guard. I've come for Druk."
(Druk stands, nonchalantly dusting himself off and stepping forward.)
Druk: (grinning) "Well, you've found him. What's the occasion? Birthday party? Parade?"
General Loras: (ignoring the sarcasm) "We've heard of your… abilities. You've made quite a name for yourself. The King has taken interest in someone of your talents."
Druk: (mocking) "The King, huh? Well, tell him thanks, but I'm busy. Got a farm to protect, turnips to grow."
General Loras: (frowning) "Do not jest, boy. This is an honor. Join my squad, and you'll rise to heights you've never imagined. Wealth, power, purpose—everything you could want."
(Druk's grin fades slightly. He crosses his arms and looks the general in the eye.)
Druk: "I don't want any of that. I've had enough of fighting for someone else's cause. I'm good right here."
General Loras: (sharply) "You'd turn down the King's offer? Do you even understand what you're saying?"
Druk: "Perfectly. Now, unless you're here to help with the crops, I'd say you and your shiny friends should move along."
(The tension thickens. The soldiers shift uneasily, sensing their general's growing anger. Loras takes a step closer to Druk, his voice dropping.)
General Loras: "You think you can just walk away from your past? You think hiding on this pathetic farm will erase what you've done?"
(Druk's expression darkens. Mira and Jerek exchange worried glances. Gavril watches silently, gripping his staff.)
Druk: (quietly) "What do you know about my past?"
General Loras: (smirking) "Everything. The orphan boy from the slums, surviving by fighting. The child who killed his first man at six. The warrior who clawed his way out of the pits, leaving a trail of bodies behind. That's who you are, Druk. A killer."
(Druk's jaw tightens, but he forces a smile.)
Druk: "You're wrong. That's who I was. Now, I'm just a guy with a stick, protecting a farm. So, unless you've got something else to say…"
(Loras stares at him for a long moment, then sighs, shaking his head.)
General Loras: "You're making a mistake, boy. But if this is the life you've chosen, so be it."
(He mounts his horse, addressing his men.)
General Loras: "We're leaving."
(The soldiers follow, but as they ride off, Loras speaks quietly to one of his subordinates.)
General Loras: (coldly) "When he leaves the farm, kill them all. Make it look like savages did it. Let him see what happens when you refuse the King."
A day later, Druk leaves the farm to hunt, unaware of what's been set in motion. When he returns in the evening, the farm is eerily quiet. The air is heavy, and something feels wrong. He drops his catch and runs toward the farmhouse.)
Druk: (calling) "Gavril? Mira? Jerek? I got us a feast!"
(There's no answer. The crops are trampled. The door to the farmhouse creaks open. Druk steps inside and freezes. His heart stops.)
(Gavril is nailed to the wall, his body grotesquely twisted. His head is sewn to his own hands, his lifeless eyes wide open in terror. Mira and Jerek are crucified on makeshift crosses, their mouths stuffed with dirt, their bodies riddled with deep wounds. The stench of death fills the room.)
(Druk stumbles back, his breath ragged. His stick drops to the floor. He falls to his knees, staring at the horrific scene. His hands tremble as memories of his violent past flood back.)
Druk: (whispering) "No… no, no, no…"
(He lets out a scream—a guttural, animalistic roar that shakes the farmhouse. His grief turns to fury. His eyes burn with rage as he stands, grabbing his stick and breaking it over his knee. He grabs a scythe hanging on the wall and storms out, his face set in a murderous glare.)
Scene: The General's Headquarters
(The King's outpost is bustling with activity. Soldiers laugh and drink around a fire. General Loras is in his tent, examining a map, when Druk bursts in, covered in dirt and blood. His presence is so sudden that even Loras is caught off guard.)
General Loras: (standing) "Druk. I assume you've reconsidered my offer?"
(Druk doesn't speak. He steps closer, his scythe glinting in the firelight. Loras finally notices the bloodlust in his eyes.)
General Loras: (calmly) "I see. So, you've come for revenge. A waste of potential, really."
Druk: (voice low) "They were my family. And you took them from me."
General Loras: "Family? Don't kid yourself. They were nothing but weaklings holding you back. I did you a favor."
(Druk's grip tightens on the scythe. His voice is steady, but his rage is palpable.)
Druk: "No more talking."
(With a single leap, Druk attacks. The soldiers outside hear the clash and rush to the tent, only to find Loras's severed head rolling onto the ground. Druk steps out, covered in blood, his scythe dripping. The soldiers hesitate, fear paralyzing them. Druk points the scythe at them, his voice like ice.)
Druk: "Run."
(They scatter like rats. Druk stands alone, the flames of the camp casting long shadows around him. His eyes burn with vengeance. This is no longer about survival. This is war.)
The Hunt Begins
(The night is cold and quiet. Druk moves like a shadow through the forest, his scythe gleaming faintly in the moonlight. He tracks the scattered soldiers, one by one, like a predator stalking prey. Each kill is deliberate, gruesome, and final.)
(A soldier sits alone by a small fire, shivering, clutching his sword. He hears a rustle in the bushes and stands, scanning the darkness.)
Soldier 1: (nervous) "Who's there? Show yourself!"
(The only response is silence. Suddenly, Druk emerges from the shadows, his scythe swinging in a deadly arc. The soldier doesn't even have time to scream as his head is severed cleanly from his body, rolling into the fire and extinguishing the flames. Druk disappears before the body hits the ground.)
(Elsewhere, a group of three soldiers huddle together, weapons drawn. They're whispering, their voices trembling.)
Soldier 2: "He's hunting us. We need to regroup—find the others!"
Soldier 3: (panicked) "We're dead! You saw what he did to the general—"
(A low whistle cuts through the air. The soldiers freeze. Before they can react, Druk drops from a tree above them, his scythe slicing through two of them in a single motion. The third soldier stumbles back, screaming, but Druk is on him in an instant. He grabs the man's face and drives him into a jagged rock, crushing his skull. Blood pools around Druk's feet as he stands, breathing heavily, his eyes wild.)
(By dawn, the forest is littered with bodies. Druk's relentless pursuit leaves no survivors. Each soldier he kills is mutilated in increasingly horrific ways—limbs hacked off, faces unrecognizable, torsos split open. The trail of carnage leads to the general's outpost, now silent and soaked in blood.)
Scene: The Aftermath at the Outpost
(A week later, the King, concerned about the lack of reports from General Loras, dispatches a troop of elite warriors to investigate. The troop, led by Captain Varyn, approaches the outpost cautiously. Even from a distance, they can sense something is wrong.)
Captain Varyn: (frowning) "Stay alert. Something's not right."
(As they enter the outpost, the stench of death overwhelms them. Flies buzz around the remains of what was once a lively camp. The soldiers gag, some vomiting, as they take in the scene.)
(The center of the camp is transformed into a nightmarish tableau. General Loras's severed head rests on a blood-stained spear, its lifeless eyes staring into nothingness. Surrounding the head in a perfect circle are the mutilated bodies of every soldier who served under him. Each corpse is positioned in a grotesque pose, their hands clasped as if in prayer, their faces frozen in expressions of terror. The ground beneath them is soaked in blood, forming a dark, sticky pool.)
Soldier 1: (whispering) "What… what kind of monster did this?"
Captain Varyn: (grimly) "Not a monster. A man."
*(They notice a crude message carved into the ground with blood near the general's head: "You took my family. Now I take yours.")
Soldier 2: (trembling) "We can't stay here. We need to report this to the King."
Captain Varyn: (nodding) "Agreed. Whatever this… thing is, it's not done yet."
Scene: Druk in the Shadows
(Far from the outpost, Druk sits by a small fire in the wilderness. His scythe rests beside him, now chipped and stained with dried blood. His eyes are hollow, his face grim. He stares into the flames, his mind racing with images of the farm, of Gavril, Mira, and Jerek's lifeless bodies. He grips a small pendant Gavril had given him—a simple wooden carving of a bird.)
(He speaks to himself, his voice low and filled with pain.)
Druk: "I gave them peace… I swore I'd protect them."
(His grip tightens on the pendant, his knuckles white. His expression hardens, his voice growing colder.)
Druk: "There's no peace left for me. No forgiveness. Only vengeance."
(He rises, taking up his scythe. The fire dies out as he walks into the night, leaving behind only the faint sound of his footsteps.)