"In this world of destiny and fate, man rose to the challenges that came his way. He survived and Earth became home for us humans and all the creatures that roams the green lush fields,the mountainous terrains or the placid meadows. As the beauty of the world around him gives joyful days of songs and mirth, he is soon met with the hidden reality of the same world. The dark reality of greed, lust and envy leads him to an abyss from where he cannot return. He finds ways to hides his wounds , to heal his broken soul and seek 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 realises that his sword cannot protect all and mourns in the demise of his loved ones. At the end the question lingers in his mind, what was his purpose all along? Does he have free will or is he a mere puppets of a transcendental entity. As the hands of God hovers 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, "Blackbeard" 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 had rough-hewn features dressed in blue velvet tunic while displaying his huge warhammer beside an iron shield. The other was drinking and blabbering nonsense while swinging his danger around as if it was a play thing. 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 precious 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 were rusty with posters of criminals,spirit bottles and old wines. The clatter of tankards mixes with distant echoes of approaching King's Royal Gurads along with the hysterical laughter of the Guards sitting in the tavern. Distrust and greed were the characteristics of the men 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 Chibu, the men of the king will hear you!!", replied the Damvel.
"It's funny how thinks have been since his majesty lost his child and wife," sighed the man, "Life has been tough for us young lads already but I guess it's the wheel of fortune, it will surely turn again to old good days soon. We should rather not give up hope and..."
"The 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 a man can ever get, disguised within a dark cloak. His visible 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.
Out of nowhere the woman came forward with unimaginable grit, and said, "Please Sire, leave this man! He is not from here and knows not the rules of the kingdom"
"Move away you filthy whore," replied Grant, "this lad is going to hell."
"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. Chibu and "Blackbeard" Damvel could only watch 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. 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 long slab of steel and iron, something meant not for humans to handle and neither to kill them. It was something that could only be made to fight monsters or dragons. He grabs his great sword one-handed and slices Grant in half. He had tried to parry with his warhammer, but it was shattered. Marcus, stood again,gasping for breathe, bloodied all over, charged at the man with a wine bottle. 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."
And that is the beginning of the wrath that will soon sweep all of Desmiri, and then the whole world.