Brotherhood of Ashes

Verse One: More than I Bargained For

Every good ballad I know begins with has begun with 'once upon a time'.

Unfortunately for you, I'm not at leisure to begin my story until I've dealt with a slight predicament - a few mercenaries from the Order of Sercah intent on my life. As such, you may have to bear with me while I dispatch my new friends, though I assure you this won't take long.

I stood pinned to tavern wall by a stocky and somewhat smelly man I believed to be the mercenary leader, partly because of the rank patch I had spotted on his shoulder but mainly due to the argument he was currently having with his men. Beside him stood equally smelly soldiers dressed in tough leather breastplates, who were now pointing their rusted cleavers at my face. The situation didn't seem to be going my way.

Listening to the men fight as I lay helpless against the weight of the man in front of me, I began to work my wrist-blade free of his hand. Slowly, carefully, I pushed my arm further until my wrist stuck out from beneath his gloved fingers. Before the man had realised what had happened, I wrenched my arm backwards and pushed the blade into his shoulder - pulling it back once again before I sent a curving slice three inches into his neck.

As blood erupted from underneath his helm, I yanked myself entirely free and flicked another concealed blade into my free hand, jerking it back in a swift ark that sent it flying across the room - straight into the thigh of one of the remaining mercenaries. As the leader gasped blood and collapses to the floor, the two men launched themselves towards me, raising their cleavers high above them as they attempted to hack at me. Pushing myself against the wall behind, I leaped backwards, jumping over them like a horse over hedge. Temporarily dazed by what had happened, the mercenary still holding my dagger in his leg seemed not to realise that I had landed directly behind him.

Sweeping his legs deftly, I delivered a crunching kick to the skull that shook his whole body like a marionette's puppet, making him convulse in a pool of blood on the tavern floor. While I felt sorry for these poor bastards, I knew that ultimately it was Sercah that had sent them here, and unless they were dealt with I'd only see more.

The tavern, having been emptied after the initial brawl and further ruined by the blood I'd just spilled everywhere, no longer seemed the idyllic hiding place, I noted. I would have to move somewhere else I suppose.

Caught daydreaming of prospective new homes, I almost didn't hear the swish of a cleaver as it fell towards my neck. Almost. Stepping a foot to the side, the cleaver found itself embedded deep within the table I'd been standing beside, splintering it almost into two. Attempting pitifully to pull the cleaver free and resume his attacks, the final mercenary quickly realised how futile the fight would be. Turning towards me while backing up slowly, he began to beg.

To beg! Like a whining dog, tail between its legs, a fully grown man and servant of the Order of Sercah had turned to me for mercy. He would not find any.