1 A.M
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Heavy hooves struck the mud in a steady rhythm as a horse pushed through the darkness. Its beautiful coat was black enough to swallow the darkness itself. Astride it rode a man wrapped in a dark cloak. If not for the sound of the gallop, a walker by would certainly have missed them both entirely in the night. Slowly, but surely town lights appeared ahead of them.
"Let's rest you up, boy," the rider said, with a monotone and still voice.
The town lay deep asleep, its streets empty save for the few drunkards. The air smelled of wet hay and ale. At the center stood the tavern, its roof slouched with age. Orange fire bled weakly through its glass panes on both sides of the door. A stable leaned against it, unremarkable in size, timber fading and rotting away.
A man wearing a white tunic with brown trousers, sitting just in front of the stables, awake. Hunched beneath a lantern. Of a small stature, middle aged, dark circles lay beneath his eyes. Presumably due to lack of sleep guarding the stables, someone has to mind the horses, even at this hour.
"Oi, you there," the ostler called out as the dark figure approached "What ya doin', Sneakin' around like that!" the ostler shouted as he saw him and the horse approach. The ostler, thinking the two were some kind of dark demons, took out his little dagger, out of fear, of course. "STAY BACK YOU FIEND OF THE NIGHT."
"Relax," he dismounted his horse and said, "i'm here to put him in the stable."
"Oh... I wasn't scared just, just- yknow" as he quickly unsheathed his dagger.
"I'll be back early morning to take him," the cloaked man replied.
The ostler squinted at him, then grinned. "Names McCarth. Nice to meet ya, laddie. And your name is..?"
"Take good care of him."
McCarth blinked twice. "Oi don't ignore me, lad. I'm the best stable hand you'll find, I swear it. I'll look after this beauty proper, don't ya worry." He ran a hand along the horse's neck, admiring "What's his name then? If you won't tell me yours. I Gotta know a horse's name. Helps me get to know em lad."
"You talk too much," He said frankly.
"And you talk too little lad" McCarth let out a big old laugh, then said. "C'mon lad, Fuckin... everyone's mysterious nowadays, Look at what the world's come to, anyway... Horse's name?"
"K."
McCarth frowned. "Fuckin' what?"
"K"
"Who the fuck in their right mind named this beauty a single letter"
"Me."
Mccarth scratched his hair, then shook his head and scoffed. "Alright lad, whatever floats your boat."
He loosened the saddle with practiced hands, checked the horse's legs, then murmured something low to himself.
"How much?" The man asked for the price.
"Hmmm y'know what," McCarth paused.
silence
"What." the hooded man, forced to say something or else suffer an eternity of silence.
"2 silver coins, only because I like the horse!"
He then took out a pouch from beneath his cloak. Then took out exactly two silver coins and threw it at McCarth.
"Now that's what i'm talking about lad," he looked at the two coins with precision, making sure they were both real.
The cloaked one starts walking towards the tavern.
"Oi see ya. First four rude scoundrels came threatinin' me and now this, Fuckin'... men can't even say a goodbye now, world's gone to hell. " he mutters to himself.
He walked without haste, boots sinking into damp earth, the cloak perfectly matching his height, not touching the ground even once. Narrow alleys could be seen infront of the tavern where some filth and sadness slept. He walked for a few moments then he arrived infront of the tavern. It was quite big compared to the dwarfish stable to it's right. 'ZY's Tavern' was nailed above the door. He opened the door as it creaked loudly. As soon as he stepped in, the warmth lunged at him, hugging him from all sides.
The man lowered his hood just enough but not too much. His brown skin could be seen slightly and so could his eyes. The right one was bright red while his left was a dull brown colour. Using his eyes he quickly inspected the room. One girl, One man, Four monsters, he thought to himself. He then walked up to the counter and sat on the stool closest to the tavern entrance.
"Water," he said to the waiter. "And Bread with meat."
The waiter was older, shoulders slumped from years of carrying more than plates. He nodded a sad and slow nod, his eyes kept drifting towards the tables at the back.
Four men sat there. Brigands, plain as day. They wore rotten leather, nicked blades worn openly, most likely stolen. A girl stood trapped in by them. One man gripped her hair. Another dragged a finger along her arm, slowly... disturbingly. While the other two stared at the girl.
"Please..," she said. "I've work-"
"Your work's right here," they all laughed with a disgusting laughter except one of them. No one noticed the man who had just entered. They were too busy with other things.
"Oi, Gareth stop being a low life and have some fun" one of them said to the other who was sitting down.
"Nah" he said. Gareth was sitting down but looking the opposite way, nor was he interacting with the girl.
"Don't make the boss angry you fool," the one standing up reminded Gareth.
The waiter returned with the water, bread and meat as requested, hands shaking. Then he leaned in close.
"Please help," he said. He then nodded to the brigands "I don't know who these men are, it's definitely their first time in this town. They told everyone in the tavern to get out," he whispered to the cloaked one. "That girl's my daughter. They said If I interfere they'll burn my daughter and this tavern right here and now." His eyes slowly watered, sadness and sorrow more visible than lanterns could be seen in his eyes.
The cloaked man sipped on his water calmly, set the cup down, "Call the guards." he said plainly.[1]
"I can't," he whispered bowing down a little. "If they catch me gone... they'll-" He glanced back at his daughter, trembling. "God, I can't leave her with these monster for even a second. Please, I'm old." He pleaded and looked down then let out a faint smile as if remembering his young days. "I was once like you, y'know. Had broad shoulders, was a tall and strong kid, yet time kills everything."
The all black figure let out a sigh of pity and said "I'll handle it after I finish eating."
The waiter, eyes darting to his daughter quickly said, "thank you, but you don't even have a sword." He was mistaken, very mistaken.
The man suddenly put down the bread he was starting to eat, then looked at the father straight in his eyes.
"I always have my sword. But I won't use it on them, they're not worthy of dying by my blade. Besides, It'd be too easy for me." He said in a serious tone. [2]
The man's confidence in himself is crazy, the father thought to himself.
"Please.. You don't understand, they're good at fighting." he finally said out aloud. The cloaked one smiled faintly.
He then finished his food as if nothing were amiss. Unstrapped his scabbard, in which he kept his precious sword, which was hiding underneath his cloak all this time and proceeded to put it on the counter. Then he stood. Just like his horse, his scabbard was beautiful, it was black too but sprinkled all over was a white pattern. He walked over to the four unlucky beings, two of them were still disturbing the girl, not letting her go. Three were sitting on the benches while the fourth one was stood besides their table.
"I'll give you five seconds to apologize to the lady and i'll let you run out of this tavern," he said, speaking in a normal tone.
The brigands slowly turned their heads towards this man, then they all laughed except Gareth. The one standing, spat on the floor infront of the black figure.
"Or what?" he sneered.
"Five," He started his count.
"Who do you think you are?!" another said shouting.
"Four."
"Look at what he's wearing as well, what a freak."
"Three."
"Boys we got a psycho on our hands don't we, I'll carve out your eyeballs boy. If you don't back away!" said the one who was previously gripping the girls hair.
"Two," Noticing the man in the cloak was not at all scared, the brigands looked at each other. All their attention was on this man now. The girl ran to her father who was behind the counter.
Suddenly, the one standing up threw a punch aimed at the cloaked man's face. Dodged. The girls saviour easily moved his face out of harm's way. He was quick. Very quick.
"One."
"KILL HIM!" one sitting down shouted.
"Zero."
ALL three of them rose together. The one who had missed a punch already, embarrassed, tried striking again. This time the girl's saviour didn't dodge. He grabbed the incoming punch and twisted it to his left. The father and daughter watched in relief.
"AAAAAAAAA!" he screamed, a twisted arm must definitely hurt. He droped to the floor writhing in pain.
Another one tries to unsheathe his sword.
"Oh, you want to grab your sword? Fine." But it's futile, the cloaked figure is just too fast. He shifts behind the brigand so quickly the human eye would mistake it for teleportation. Then he seizes the brigand's sword hand, guides the blade out of its sheath using the brigand's OWN grip, and drives it backward into the brigand's stomach. He angles it carefully, making sure the blade doesn't pierce all the way through to where he stands behind him. The once cocky brigand, drops on his side with his own sword inside him. One dead.
The other two are left horrified, "No.. Micah!" one of them shouts. Eyes widened as their deaths approach. Their comrade in crime is dead while another is on the floor shouting humiliatingly. The two left standing already have their swords out, at least they've gotten further than the previous brigand who couldn't even manage that, they both attack at once. Raising their swords to strike the man who has just killed their friend. The cloaked figure smoothly backs away, the swords are out of reach and hit the floor with a THANG. Without waiting he moves back in, rips the sword out of the now dead Micah and thrusts it in the no name mans head, the one with the broken arm now has a broken head too with a sword stuck in it. Two dead.
The daughter who is now behind the counter, vomits. The cloaked man who was silently eating his food moments ago, has just brutally killed two men right infront of their eyes, like a knife running through butter. The two brigands who are left are now too shocked to even utter a word. One finds some courage to attack again, this time a blow swinging horizontally aiming for the cloaked head. It's Futile. The savage killer bends both his neck and head backwards, arching low, his hood comes off, his nose can practically smell the steel sliding over his face. As the sword passes him he swiftly moves his head back up again, the cloaked hood comes back onto his head perfectly, then he uses both his left and right fists to continuously punch the foolish brigand in the ribs. The other criminal standing next to him is too scared to even move now, he doesn't want to share the same fate as the other dead two. He lets his sword go, drops on the floor, backs away and starts crying, he's too petrified to even run. But the crying won't stop his friends ribs from being shattered. Seeing his daughters condition, the father rushes her into the kitchen where she wouldn't have to witness the savagery unfolding, though they'll still be able to hear the ribs cracking. In just the first punch the brigand lets go of his sword, the pain is too much to hold onto anything. The punches are fast, precise and powerful. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK. His punches are only going for the mans ribs, the shattering of his ribs can be heard from even outside of the tavern. CRACK. CRACK. CRAC- His final blow drives through the man's chest, ribs crack inward. The thing lying still on the floor isn't a human.. It's something else entirely. Three dead.
Now there lay one last putrid thing on the floor, crying frantically, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Please I'm sorry! Girl I'm sorry! I'll leave this cursed town-"
"Didn't I give you five seconds to apologize and run?" he questioned the crying man while looking over him with a senseless face.
"You did! I'm sorry-, I'm sorry I can't die-" The pitiful criminal starts begging for his life.
The cloaked man picks up the sword which the now crying bandit had dropped moments ago and just as he's about to strike..
"I HAVE A SON!" he exclaims. "If I die he won't survive either, he's nine. His mother died a month ago, he has no one except me." he cries painfully. [3]
Suddenly, the cloaked man stops in his tracks. If I kill this man what will become of his son? He thought to himself.
"Why do things like this when you have a child yourself?" the man holding the sword demands an answer and fast.
"I'm sorry-" he choked on his own words "I needed the money or else my boy would have starved to death by now" the tall black figure looming above him didn't know wheter he was lying or telling the truth.
"Where is your son?" he demanded.
"Not far, I promise-"
"Location."
"North of here, the town's called Fenwell-" he ran out of breath, then continued "Please.. that's where I live, I'll leave tonight! No more stealing, no more gangs- I'll get any job, anything! Just don't kill me... he's all I've got left!"
"Gareth... I'm going to let you go. But if you've lied to me today, I will hunt you down, no matter where you run to. And I will kill you." he paused voice dropping even lower than before "I will visit Fenwell soon, and if I don't see you there..."[4]
"I PROMISE I WILL BE THERE AND- AND I WON'T TELL ANYONE ANYTHING OF WHAT HAPPENED TODAY"
"Good."
Gareth gets up and runs out the tavern doors never once looking back.
Did I make the right choice? The bandit killer asked himself.
By now the neighbours had awoken, hearing the deafening screams of the three men, dead. It's sure to attract attention. The father frantically emerges from the kitchen, face sweating and pale, eyes darting between the bodies that lie in his tavern.
"The town patrol are bound to be here any moment, you'll die if you go out, here take this key." The father fumbled with a key ring, hands shaking. "Go upstairs end of the hall, room 3. I'll tell them these bandits turned on each other."
The man casually turns and starts walking slowly, as if he hadn't just killed three men in cold blood. He grabs his shiny black scabbard and walks up the stairs and into room three.
The tavern doors burst open, "THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?!"
[1] The cloaked man is a hero but not a typical one. Most heroes without a second thought would help the girl yet the cloaked man first tells the father to just get the guards. He's unbothered and unphased of what he sees in the world.
[2] He knows he's a better fighter than them and if he used his sword, the fight would end in less than a few seconds. I really wanted to show how powerful he is, even without his sword.
[3] This is a tough choice for the cloaked man. And I purposely put this in here or else he would've just killed everyone, I didn't want that to happen. Everyone has families, even the worst of people. This choice wheter to finish the last bandit off or not is a tough choice to make, because if he does, he would also be killing an innocent child indirectly. As the child wouldn't be able to take care of himself and has no friends/family.
[4] The cloaked man already knows gareth's name as he overheard them while waiting for his food. Talking to each other, one of the bandits mentions gareth by name.