North #1

Due to an unfortunate event in which i lost so much work i decided to start a new story.

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The man walked down the street slowly, villagers avoided him because of his sword and dagger. Armed men weren’t welcomed these days, not with the war and the horrors it had brought. A passing merchant gave the man a glare of pure hatred, all borders had been shut since the war had begun, meaning the profits of merchants decreased greatly.

Coming to a tavern named “The Black Bow” he entered. The tavern was near deserted apart from two men sat in the corner whispering quickly. The barman looked up from the book he was reading, his eyes lightened up at the prospect of a fresh costumer. Moving to the bar the man smiled.

“What food have you got?” He asked.

“Some rabbit stew, and a blackberry tart for afters.” The man nodded.

“And some ale if you will.” The barman disappeared for a few minutes.

He returned smiling with a bowl of steaming stew. He placed it on the counter and produced a spoon from beneath.

“If you take a seat I will get the ale to you.” The man took his spoon and bowl and went to a table.

Placing the bowl on the table he removed his sword belt and leant it against the wall. The two men in the corner looked up momentarily then went back to their whispering. Sitting down The man began eating the stew with gusto. A jug of ale arrived with a tankard.

“Is that them?” The man asked the barman.

“Aye, Culas.” The barman left Culas eating his stew. After he had finished Culas poured himself some ale and sipped it. Placing the tankard down Culas stood.

From a sheath at his side he removed a serrated dagger, holding it at his side he walked towards the two men.

“You need to come with me.” He spoke slowly, keeping his voice level. The two men looked up.

“Who the hell are you?” Asked the smaller of the two.

“Someone who needs to have a few words with you.” The two men stood.

“Kill him.” The taller man snarled and raised his fists.

Culas reacted quickly, the dagger came across and sliced the mans knuckles making him cry out in pain. Stepping in he head butted him, and then forced the dagger into his stomach making his scream in agony. Yanking the blade out, he pushed the man away and turned his attention to the smaller one.

From somewhere the man had produced his own knife and slowly walked around the table, his eyes never leaving Culas’s. He slashed at Culas’s head who ducked and moved to the left. The man recovered quickly and was able to block Culas’s own blade before it pierced his chest.

“Your one of them, aren’t you?” Culas smiled harshly.

“I am indeed.”

Spinning Culas slashed at the man’s throat, aiming for the jugular. The blade missed the man by a centimetre. They stabbed and sliced at each other but neither gained the upper hand.

“You may kill me now, but my brothers will still carry on.” The man spat at Culas’s feet. “In my death the warning is sent out.”

“At least it means one less of you and your friends walking the land.” Culas attacked whilst still talking, his blade sliced the man’s arm. As he moved forward to press his advantage something grabbed his foot. He stumbled into a table and fell to the floor.

From the floor, the wounded man had grabbed Culas’s ankle. A boot landed on Culas’s chest pinning him to the floor.

“So the tables have turned.” The man laughed harshly. “I don’t think I’ll kill you, just mark you…” Eyes glazed over, the man toppled to the floor like a collapsing pillar.

Smiling viciously the barman hefted his heavy club and brought it down on the man’s head again. There was a sickening crunch.

“Bastard owed me gold for the food.” A low moan came from the wounded man as he tried to push himself up.

Helping Culas up the barman grinned evilly, revealing missing teeth that had been lost in bar fights through the years.

“What ya want me to do wi’ ‘im?”

“Take him into the back room, Hans. Patch the wound up, it isn’t lethal.” Culas gathered up his sword and dagger. “I will get Jonas and come back. Keep that bastard alive.”