False Heroes: A Dystopian Odyssey Begins

CHAPTER 1 - Under the new Moon, Wisps of a forgotten campfire

By John Crockett & Jacob Fenwick

We live in a world of words, Sweet and warm revealed to be doing nothing but covering their sour taste of the service provided. A feeling not felt much by the common folk of this time but this world is about to awaken their senses to this putrid world's stench. Ah yes not just the sell swords and hedge wizards making easy sparkly silver Titans sweeping the small dredges of evil from the common folks viewing displeasure but actual heroes of old that only earn only the finest golden dragons as a minimum for their great deeds shall return, these sell swords parading around as 'Heroes' do not yet know that attacking a infestations lower life forms means the strongest have their time to prepare the final strike...Soon we will see the battle of the new guard toppling the old under the banner of hope and change...let us see what becomes of the False Heroes.

We start our adventure where all great tales are started...at a tavern, specifically the Coal and Cauldron, South of the border to the Seven Sands in a tiny forest with hundred feet tall oaks surrounding a rather plain but homely feeling establishment. Adorned with wax candles lighting the walls creating a certain ambiance like that of fireflies...OH and the skulls of creatures from far and wide...been a while since I've seen one of them...OH anyway! This place is a fine example of everything that will be this world's downfall everywhere you look. Brutish Bladed Orcs swinging that sword around like it was their new pet bear cub moments before they start crying asking why it has fallen asleep...still compared to the Gnomish ways my analogy is more peaceful.. Still they dance and sing the shanties of their last voyage with the voice of an old smoking sailor smacking their hands and feet in drunken tones kicking at the Gnomes trying to join in the festivities. The musky smell of Ale and Ember root filling the war hardened walls more than the older Orc owner standing a clear foot above all others ...Oh...I do believe our pieces are making their first plays.

The bar's quiet ambience was quickly interrupted by the great old Elven wood door being shot off its hinges with a thunderous boom towards a table at the closest wall. Facing the barrage of shards of splinting oak javelins now gaining velocity like a bullet. The male patrons' eyes filled with fear and the women's creaking quivers trying to release a single sound seemingly in unison at the carnage they were sure was to unfold. Time itself seems to slow to a crawl, the patrons eyes in unison widen, In this time the hooded one sitting at the table that the onslaught was hurdling towards stood from his chair and shrank as his feet clapped the cobblestone, lowered his hood as he turned quick revealing his demonic red skin and a eye that resembled a searing ember being stoked fiercely reaches for his side and in one motionless blur a explosion of smoke and cindering splinters fly into the ceiling leaving a new skylight showing the new moon's first crescent as the smoke and shockwave spreads through the establishment sending everyone to their rears. The smoke started to disperse and we see from it the hooded figures arm extended holding a weathered and steaming one handed leather grip forge hammer, black to the sight and obviously heavy to the touch shown by it being dropped a mear two feet from the extended hand and creating a secondary shockwave that blew off his hood and cape fully showing us a Demon, skin a pure blood red with shades of black and grey with horns of pure ebony black and eyes black as the as the abyss where his ancestors emerged from but only standing around three feet tall. A long flowing braided beard and hair of the Dwarves, his armor left much to be desired for, only sporting a leather vest with no sleeves and a pair of leather jerkin to match, his cape being removed revealed a identical war hammer sitting on his hip and a short blade on his back, no scabbard and serrated from what looks to be multiple fights, as the smoke clears the demon looked far from pleased gripped his war hammer back from the floor and turns to stare at the hole where the great elven door once stood.

He saw the outline of a person, blinded by the lifted debris momentarily but then seeing a tall elf stumbling through the smoke and falling on his face and laughing like a madman while picking himself up, not a Elf but a half-mix, a creature that is off two species that never usually interbreed but we see quickly that this one was the most common off all, A Orc and a Wood Elf, this man looked almost like a perfect Elf that could even pass for a Lunar or even High Elf. His only Orcish trait being his lower jaw and fangs with his ashy grey skin complexion, he wore robes of shining gold with ancient runes seemingly stitched into them with a coat of pure red dragon scales.