The King's Game - Blackbarrow Arc (Part 1)

Chapter 1: The Desolate Plains Burn

The ground shook and the skies turned a dark cerulean hue, consuming all the clouds and the bright afternoon sun. A bright flash of lightning struck the earth followed by the roars of thunder, and just like that it was over as if it never happened. The skies cleared almost instantaneously, the ground stopped shaking and only the roars of thunder lingered in the air.
"Move out the way! Move! I have to notify the King!"

The huge throne room doors groaned as they were pushed open with apparent haste. A single guard bolted through the gap as the doors swung open and rush straight towards the throne where the King was seated.

"My King, I apologize for my brashness however I bring news of great importance." The guard said as he dropped to his knees.

"Speak, what news is it that you bring me?" The King said as he motioned for the guard to stand.

"My King, The Desolate Plains are consumed in a gigantic blaze. The flames can be seen dancing from here. I fear it has something to do with the strange lightning that struck earlier when the skies were consumed."

"And that concerns us how? The Desolate Plains are not of our concern. That cursed land can burn for all I care. It must be the Gods' will to have it burn."

"My King, I just fear that the strange occurrence might happen again and set flame to our homes."

"Worry not, the Gods' have no reason to raze us to the ground. You may leave now."

"Bu-. Yes, my King."

The guard left the hall and as the doors swung closed behind him a scrawny man appeared next to the King. He was covered from head to toe in a black robe, the hood concealed his head and as if for extra assurance he donned a black mask which completely covered his face. His head hang facing the ground and he never made an attempt to lift his head, nor did he say anything. It was the King who was the first to speak.

"It happened just as you had said it would. How long before he appears to make his statement?"

The scrawny man said nothing and instead held up seven fingers.

"Only seven Vrots (days) to prepare. How long will it take you to prepare what we discussed?"

Once again the scrawny man made no attempt to speak and instead held up one finger.

"One Prytorst (month), I see.", the King said as he stroked his beard, "I will buy as much time as I can. I'm sure that fool Garnet can finally be useful."

As the King sat and mulled, the scrawny man slowly faded into the shadows as if he was never in the room to begin with.

When the lightning struck and The Desolate Plains were set ablaze, a sheep herder happened to be nearby. The local farmers did not like the young sheep herder which meant he had to go far away from their lands to allow his sheep to graze. The one place where his sheep could graze to their hearts content and he felt most at ease was close to the border of The Desolate Plains. He had fallen into a deep sleep and failed to notice the skies being covered by the cerulean hue, the ground fiercely shaking or the panicked cries of his sheep as they fled. When he woke later all he saw was flames, the flames that consumed The Desolate Plains. The young sheep herder frantically surveyed the surrounding areas looking for his sheep, they were his livelihood after all, however he could see no sheep. Hoping that they ran home the young sheep herder turned his attention to the gigantic blaze.

"What on earth could have set The Desolate Plains ablaze like this? There is nothing that could burn there, yet this fire burns as if it had a Krost (year) supply of grain as fuel."

"It is time for you to rise!" A deep voice bellowed from within the flames.

Whether it was curiosity or his body was possessed by the deep voice, the young sheep herder placed one foot in front of the other and slowly made his way towards the flames. The heat was becoming more and more unbearable as he got closer to the flames, yet the young sheep herder seemed unaffected by it and continued to close in on the flames. The young sheep herder began to stretch out his hand as if he was longing for the flames to consume his body and soul. As the young sheep herder got within an arm's reach of the flames a hand shot out towards him. This was enough to shatter the hold the deep voice or curiosity had on his body, the initial shock caused the young sheep herder to fall backwards which helped him avoid the hand reaching for him. The arm retracted into the flames and a figure started to form. The young sheep herder was frozen in fear as the dark figure begun to look more and more like a demon from hell, it came to no surprise that he wet himself.

"When the flames subdue the claim will be made and this land shall prosper. Go and spread that message to everyone you can find." The dark figure exclaimed before it faded into the flames.

The young sheep herder needed no other motivation, he would even deliver the message to the Gods and Satan himself if it meant he would be able to leave with his body and soul intact. The young sheep herder wasted no time and bee-lined straight home. He had never run so fast in his life, but he knew better then to anger demons. Upon returning home he saw all his sheep were safe waiting to enter the pen. He opened the gate and ushered the sheep into the pen before heading inside his small house where he quickly washed himself and put on clean clothes. There is no way he could meet the King looking the way he did. Leaving his house, he stopped to tell everyone the message he had been given and the importance that he had to deliver it to not just the people but the King as well. Most people scoffed at the young sheep herder or thought of it as a delusion or dream he had from sleeping in the sun near The Desolate Plains. This didn't bother the young sheep herder though, wouldn't it be amazing to stand alongside the King and deliver the message to the entire realm, he thought to himself as he made his way to the King's castle.

In the centre of the blaze that consumed The Desolate Plains, a lone man stood unaffected by the flames. Around him a small castle begun to form, moulded from the flames and dirt surrounding him.

"It is only a matter of time before everything is ready, here accept these gifts. Once the flames subdue, you will have a castle and we can't exactly have you walking around nude so here wear this." The deep voice bellowed.

Flames shrouded the lone man and transformed into a white long-sleeved layered tunic with a matching hood, black leather gauntlets, a leather belt with six throwing knives and two daggers in leather sheaths attached to the belt, black pants and a pair of black leather boots. The lone man examined his new attire and weapons, the attire fit him like a glove. It was light yet sturdy, no doubt embedded with some strange magic to strengthen it.

"This is where I take my leave. It will take seven Vrots for the flames to subdue. It is then that your journey will begin." The deep voice bellowed before disappearing.

The lone man was left surround by flames and the crackling sound they emitted. He sat down on a stone seat that the flames had made for him, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"And now we wait."