New Thread 01 - A Twist of Fate

Kingsmeet burned. And the people burned with it. The screaming and terror that resonated and echoed across the once homely cobbled streets, the creaking and snapping of wooden beams and the slow crackling of thatched roofs set ablaze. It was the picture of hell for those who had called the city home. 

It was the picture of hell for Abris Phinn

The Kingsmeet Guard had obviously been called into action. Fending off the horrifying black creatures as best they could, keeping the civilians safe from both the fire and the monstrous threats that had sprung up and were clawing and tearing into the people. It was long, tiring, grueling work and Abris' usual boundless enthusiasm had been thoroughly drained. And yet still he stood, he stood with his tattered coat and broken armour, the wooden sword he'd been so proud of snapped in half and broken at his feet while he shakily held a bastard sword in his grip, staring down at one of the horrifying masses of broken bone and flesh while a civilian he hadn't bothered to look at too closely cowered behind him. He felt his battered aching body groan as he dropped his guard, panting and turning around to the person standing behind him, his eyes still yet refusing to focus on them.

"Go now...get to safety outside the town limits, there are...other guardsmen making a path."

Abris gesticulated with the sword and his head, down through some of the haphazardly cleared wreckage and to where he knew more of his fellows were securing an exit. He didn't quite move until he saw the civilian desperately scrabble away, which lead Abris to nearly collapse forward, using his sword as a resting post. It felt like it had been going for hours upon hours. The burning and the screaming. He'd had a lifetime's worth of people dying in front of him, of seeing broken houses and weeping people. Lives cut short, livelihoods vanishing, an entire city going up in smoke. All the things he had been worried about felt so far away. The crime that hid in Kingsmeet's underbelly, the vultures that were praying on it in the form of the Mercenary Guilds, even his own uncertain future.

He had more important things to worry about now.

So Abris pulled himself back to his feet, the bastard sword scraping along the cobbles as he dragged it and him forward. He would not rest until he had saved all he could. Until he was absolutely sure that everyone in Kingsmeet was safe...or beyond having to worry about it right now. As long as Abris' legs could move and his arms could swing a sword, he would stand and fight. 

He would protect Kingsmeet like he'd always said he would.

The night sky was littered with stars. Wide, expansive, yet eerily beautiful. Staring at it so long would make one lost within their own thoughts. So goes this wandering traveler, eyes closed to those around him, yet, despite his outward appearance, was more perceptive than most. He walked along the dirt path, his arms rested within the only luggage he carried with him, the coat on his back. His head faced upwards towards the sky, basking in its vastness and quietly marching forward. Only the dead wouldn't know such joys.

But peace was soon cut short as clouds filled the sky. No, they were not clouds, but smoke. Down the path, the man could feel the scrambling footsteps of survivors escaping from his current destination. He looked forward to see the townspeople covered in blood, smoke, scars, scratches, looking as though they've encountered a monster unspeakable. They ran past him in panic, very few stopped to warn him of the dangers that he was headed towards, but the man merely stood, nodded, and continued on, hearing these warnings, yet never heeding them. His pace has increased since. By now, he was briskly walking down the path to the soon-to-be destroyed Kingsmeet. Yet, there was nary a worry on his face. No, it was one of excitement, like a child finding a new plaything.

As he reached the top of the hill, he was met with the image of the town burning down. Monsters had run amok and buildings were stained with the blood of civilians young and old alike. It was as though a nightmare-ish painting had come to life, and the only end result was the destruction of all that lives here.

"Hoh... It looks like I'll have to fight my way through." he exclaims to no one.

The once star-lit sky is now blanketed by a deathly aura of smoke. It wraps itself around the moon, as though to extinguish the only pure light left to the people of Kingsmeet. As the man continues foward, he unravels his hands from his coat, revealing his body that had grown through years of endless training. A tattoo was printed across his chest, a memento of his past that he would never forget. Before the moon was gone, light reflected off of the iron shackles that adorned the man's wrists. They were much too thick to be wielded by anyone of normal strength, but he was not normal. He carried them as though they were like air. Nay, they were not to help continue his training, they existed to contain something.

He grinned as the distance between him and Kingsmeet closed. The smell of wood and flesh burnt his nostrils the closer he drew. Screams became more common and echoed throughout the night, but he remained undeterred. He had to prove he was strong, whether to himself or to others was left up to them, and what better way than to fight through demons from Hell?

"Demons and humans alike, all that dare challenge me will go down knowing my name: Enkidu!"