The Demon of Sol'Metis

Chapter 1 - The Demon of Sol'Metis

The fire feels pleasantly hot on my face and bare hands - a nice change from the biting cold. But I cannot enjoy the warmth for long as I set my eyes again on the stumbling idiot laying in the snow before me. The terrified look on his ugly mug strikes my ire for some reason. He looks to the charred remains of his friend and then back to me, his fear amplified. Then he lets the most moronic word come out of his mouth:

"Mercy!" he says.

I look down on him, trying to control my anger. I take a step towards him without uttering a thing, all the while looking him straight in the eyes. The snow crunching under my boots is the only sound I can hear. He continues in desperation:

"I-I-I... didn't mean... we didn't know..."

I interrupt him:

"You didn't know what?"

Realizing his own stupidity, I would assume, he cannot think of a good answer to the rather simple question. I keep going:

"I remember your ugly mugs. You've seen me at the tavern back in the village. I can even imagine your train of thought: 'Lone traveler, big spender - easy pickings.' "

"Sir, I'm sorry, sir! Please don't-"

Wrathful, I grab his friend's sword and stab him through the arm with it.

"YOU SHUT YOUR FILTHY MOUTH!" I yell. "Give me one good reason why I should let you live, you stinking lowlife piece of shit!"

He grabs the sword by the blade as if to pull it out while grunting from the pain.

"ARGH! Please sir, I beg you. I have a family-"

"You should have chosen your profession more carefully then."

I point my palm towards his head.

"NO PLEASE! Th-th-th-the man you're looking for. I-I-I can help you find him."

I raise my eyebrow.

"What could you possibly know about him?"

"Let me go and I'll tell you all I know."

"Listen here, dipshit. My patience is running extremely thin. Speak or die."

"C'mon, just let me go man, I'll-"

"You don't know shit, do you?" I say this in a cold and disappointed tone - although I was certain he wouldn't tell me anything I didn't already know.

His eyes start to tremble as he realizes the reality of his situation.

I can feel the heat surging through my arm right before fire spews from my hand, engulfing the thug whole. He starts screaming and struggling.

"AAAAARRRGH. HELP ME! ARRGH!"

The smell of burned flesh is unpleasant, but I can't say it's something I'm not used to. In less than a minute the screaming stops... and I lay down my hand.

In the commotion I almost forgot about the "gift" his buddy left on my arm. I need to patch it up quickly - it's pretty deep. I press against the wound as hard as I can with my healthy hand - it hurts like hell, but I need to stop the bleeding. The fire is still spreading and they scared my horse, too... great.