Vadgar The Forsaken Knight

The Fate of Sellswords

__________________________________________________________________

Hello, my name is Sam, this is my first book. Warning before reading this book, it has some disturbing scenes and viewer discretion is advised. This is just the prologue of my first book and I am by no means a good writer but I enjoy trying different styles. I am currently writing a different book at the same time as this one with the completely opposite tone, it follows a much more classic fantasy tone based in a traditional fantasy world. If you prefer those type of books please give it a little read. Otherwise, enjoy this tale of a sellsword trying to achieve his dream in a sinister and merciless world! Thank you, so much! (Also I'm terrible at English so please correct me where I go wrong)

__________________________________________________________________

The howling wind crushed the dilapidated hanging lantern against the rotten wooden beam. Weak embers flickered in a forced attempt to survive. Shadows danced on walls tracing the movement of the lamp. A shadowy figure staggered into the light. The sheathed long sword was held in a worn and scratched hand. The beauty of the sheath conflicted with the posture of the wielder. Resva slumped against the rotten beam letting out a horrific creek. The Barn door rattled as it held off the barrage coming from outside. The thin slit slowly began to widen to reveal the white, almost sparkling, full moon that flooded the barn with a beckoning light. The awe-inspiring view was ripped from reality as the wind smashed the door into the wall, forcing the normal manure smell away. Expecting to see the shining lights from the village, Resva could only see the silhouettes of the houses. Letting out a distasteful grunt he pushed off the beam making headway to the village. 

Resva was a simple sellsword having bandaged arms with common clothes except a long hooded ripped Inverness Cape with a dragon faded and ripped on the back. The colour of his clothing is a simple brown, like the hide on a dear worn down by the harsh weather. Resva stopped as he reached the bottom of the hill reaching the swaying trees with rich dark green leaves holding back the light of the moon. He carefully looked around as he began to unsheathe his sword, he was beginning to worry. Thoughts swept his mind. Why were they no animals in the barn? Why were the lights off? What am I doing out here? At night of all things. Now he was starting to wake up he realised the obvious mistakes. The town was a fifteen-minute walk away, he should just head back, re-barricade the door, go to the village at sunrise. A screech echoed from the barn, it was too late to head back.

The sword fully unsheathed and ready for combat. His stance was irregular, he held his sword in his dominant hand and his sheath in his left. His eyes slowly inspected the area around him. 1, 2, 3 seconds went by... Nothing. He closed his eyes as he began to move, all focus seemed to be on hearing. Crack.

"Shit." Resva groaned.

His body instantly snapped 180 degrees, dust flashed around him, trying to keep up with the speed. Swash, the sound echoed. Resva quickly sprung two steps back. 1, 2, 3 tendrils struck the places he landed, 4, 5 smashed into the ground as the picked up the figure Resva could now see. Thin and humanoid, it rose. Its body was pitch black with no eyes, ears, nose, hair, then a small white dot opened where the mouth would be. 3 tendrils shot forward towards Resva in a blink of an eye, dust filling the vacuum left by the immense speed.

2 slammed into the ground as Resva quickly aimed his sword with the intention to deflect, the last struck  Resva's left arm, then quickly returned to the figure it protruded out of. Blood began to  flood down his arm, coating his sheath as a hole was left in his arm.

"Arggh..." Resva screeched until biting his lip to silence himself. 

The creature slumped as a blade went through its back. It plummeted to the ground with Resva standing behind it. It's a game of skill and speed when it comes to survival. No blood came out of the wound left by the blade, everything only became limp.