User blog:Vincentthegerman001/The Scarlet Hawk Conspiracy, Chapter One: A Helping Hand

Our tale begins in the outskirts of the city Lescatie, the mighty center of Druella's Demon Realm. Being a Demon Realm, and one of lust and depravity, the atmosphere was naturally very dusky. Yet, as the tale begins, it was duskier than normal, in the realm:  The time of the day, that the inhabitants of Fallen Realms considered their "Night", when loving couples retreated to homes, boarding houses, or brothels, to fornicate the night away with their lovers. But our tale begins quite less...Pleasantly.

Xero strode onto the summit of the hill, looking down into the valley where the city was situated. His black hair, reaching barely to his shoulders, was toussled by the wind that blew across the hilltop. His scalemail armor, leather vambraces and greaves, and black cloak were dusty from a long treck across the Realm. His eyes scanned the valley below. Two longswords were slung across his back for easy access: Nagina, and Serpentos. The two blades had always been at his side, for as long as he could remember. And these were not exactly his only weapons he brought to a fight: A phantom shortsword and a crossbow gauntlet with different amunitions ensured he was always prepared.

Behind him, Johnnar lazily crested the hill and stood beside Xero. Clad in a dusty red cloak and full leather armor, he stood only slightly shorter than Xero. Two shortswords hung at his waist, one of human steel, the other of Demonic Silver. His hair was scraggely and slightly matted in places, and had the same black tone as Xero's. But that is where the similarities ended, for John was undead, raised by a being called Sage. And both he and Xero were incubi, hence their freedom of travel in the Demon Realms. John looked down into the valley with a decidedly unimpressed, and indifferent look. Where Xero sometimes leaped into a fight, he was more often than not a bastion of neutrality.

They looked briefly at one another, then descended the dirt road down the sloping hillside and into the outskirts. A wide river barred their path, spanned by a rather imperial stone bridge. Two small towers stood on either side of the road leading onto the bridge, made of stone and wooden frames. But something was amiss...And they could feel it. As they began to cross, they looked up at one of the tower sides, and were downright horrified. There hung two bodies, human, by their necks, from out of a window by a rope attached inside the tower somewhere. And both bore the heraldry of Lescatie's town watch, mamono and incubi from the outskirts who banded together to keep order spies and assassin's from approaching the city.

John silently looked at the bodies, and shrugged as he kept walking. Xero nearly stopped and looked up with a worried stare. "What the hell?  Why would there be such a grotesque display in Lescatie of all places?  And of citizens as well?" Xero said in disbelief, jogging to catch up with John.

"I don't care, to be honest," he rebuked, "As long as these people here keep to themselves, I'll be just fine.  If not..." Xero sighed. His friend's, as he saw it, innability, to shrug off his indiference, consistently worried him. Had death robbed all his emotion?

They continued past empty fields of human crops and exotic Demon Realm Fruits, toward the city. In a small depression just before the gate, they entered a village square. Grass had been mostly cleared, and a well proudly marked the center of the square. A chapel to the fallen god, a bakery, a mill, a butcher, a stable, a smithy, and a small tavern crowded the small square. Many other dirt roads led away from it, presumably to farms and more fields.

Xero felt the unnease before he saw it. This was a Demon Realm Village. Outside of a Demon City. And yet, he heard absolutely nothing. No moans, no sounds of pleasure, not even the creaking of beds as lovers' hips collided. Nothing. Through all their years of travel, both men knew that this situation was nothing short of a physical oxymoron. John turned about to look at all the buildings individually, with a perfect poker face, before whispering to Xero. "Xero...It's quieter than it should be.  I don't really like this." Xero merely nodded, before resting his eyes on the tavern  It was a rather despondent building, to be terribly honest. The sign, adorned with a blue hog, was faded and hung sadly from two rusty chains, attached above the door. The bricks that made the walls were crowded with mildews and small weeds at the bottom, and some of the wooden frames were practically rotted and termite infested.

Not waiting for John, who followed anyways, Xero briskly strode toward the oaken door. He could see light through the cracks and in the windows, and hear small conversations inside. He slowly turned the copper handle and stuck his head inside, scanning the room. It was small, no more than 20 feet across and 30 feet wide. Low wooden tables were irregulary set about the room, and there were stains of food and beer on the floor. A small haze of pipe smoke hung below the celeing. A single demon flower lamp gave the room a dim lighting.

But what struck Xero the most were the patrons. They were peasants and villagers, yes. But all of them, monster and man, had the same thing: Wary, tired looks. Weary expressions. And a gloomy silence that defied all explanation, considering where they were. All eyes turned on Xero and John as they entered. A succubus in a faded blue dress, simply made, yet seductively elegant, stood behind a wooden counter with five stools. Long, red hair flowed down almost to her hips, and a blue ribbon was attached to one horn. Two large barrels with spigots stood behind her as she absent mindedly cleaned an already spotless glass with a rag. To both, she seemed...Downright depressed. All charm surrounding her, despite her beauty, was one of pity that they felt. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, but dry, and she did not even attempt to look seductive, as succubi are wont to do.

Then they noticed the dwarf. He sat at a table not far from the counter, his back turned to the other people in the room. He was undeniably male, something exceedingly rare in this day and age. His broad-shouldered torso was encased in thick plate armor adorned with dwarfish patterns and symbols. A thick, bushy beard, red as blood, and a braided moustache covered most of his face and hung to just above his belt. A large broadsword, seemingly almost too big for him, was propped against the table in a dark brown scabbard with a belt, as well as a smaller lute. His meaty hands, enclosed in metal gauntlets with chainmail palms, were busy transporting food from before him to his mouth: A wedge of cheese, a bowl of stew, a hunk of bread for dipping, and a mug of beer were being devoured as though he were famished. And with all the amount of it that fell into his beard in the process, John silently chuckled. At least, he thought, he won't have to buy breakfast.

Xero barely cared about the dwarf, as outlandish as he may have been. His attention was solely on the barmaid. He had always hated it when mamono were hurt. He prefered to talk his way out of a fight with them if he could. And should some bastard slay a monster in his presence, he was wont to be gripped by a berserk fury the likes of which hell has none. And the barmaid's sadness inflammed his spirit. He began walking to the bar. Patrons began to glance at them during whispered conversations with suspicion and fear.

Oh great, John thought to himself with a sigh. Here he goes again, rushing off into things he knows nothing about. He strode to a nearby table, one of the few that were empty, and sat himself upon a wooden chair, propping his feet on the tabletop. Little did he know, that the next ten minutes would be most interesting for him.

Xero slowly seated himself at the bar, and stared intently at the girl. She slowly looked up at him, with intense, bloodshot eyes that bore the sorrow of someone twice her visible age. She studied Xero for a few seconds, then said in a flat, emotionless voice, "Welcome to the Blue Boar, sir.  What can I get you?"

"Well, milady, I think I'll start with a beer, if it's no trouble," he rebuked.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Such silver tongues, it seemed, were not common in the village. She turned to one of the casks behind her and flipped the spigot, sending fizzy, brown ale spilling into the mug she had been cleaning earlier. When if filled, she flipped the spigot once more. Turning back to Xero, she gingerly set the mug down before him, and watched as he took a long, satisfied draught. Setting it down, he asked, "How much does this cost, milady?"

"Five silvers."

He took out five coins, of regular silver, stamped with the head of an unknown baphomet he guessed was probably important somewhere in Royal Malakai. He set them one by one on the counter and let the barmaid take them.

"So, you look absolutely terrible.  What's troubling you?" Xero asked bluntly.

She sighs and grits her teeth. "It's none of your business.  You'd better drink up and hurry to the city."

"But I insist...At least tell me, who are you?"

"Maria.  Maria Venning."

"I am Xero Espadas, a Freelancer...So, what's the matter here, Maria?  There is such a hostile atmosphere in this place, and this close to Lescatie as well."

"That's because in Lescatie, they can't operate as openly," she mutters, turning away.

"Who?"

She turns back around, her face now rather annoyed. "Don't ask questions where it'll get you in trouble.  'They' will take you like the others.  Right under the Lady's nose, too.  Like my da'..." She looks down, tears welling in her eyes. Xero leaned forward and put a hand on her cheek. She closed her eyes, accepting his touch, and hot tears flowed down her face. She cried like that for several minutes. "They...They are ruffians, bandits, thieves.  Scum.  All of them.  Not even fit for marrying, as we all learned the hard way.  They forcefully take revenues, harvests, and extort taxes.  And they raid every caravan that tries to come to Lescatie.  And those who question or defy them..." She does not answer.

Xero had heard enough. His rage was inflammed like a mighty furnace. Bandits terrorizing villages in Lescatie? Why didn't Druella's guard already take care of it? What the fuck was going on? His mind was made up, though. Though he and John had merely come to Lescatie as a stop on their travels, they would stay as long as they needed to help these people. If even the mamono citizens hated them this much...

Suddenly, the door slammed open with a heavy crash. The patrons stopped all conversations, and looked with fearful gazes to the group of men that entered. They were dressed in shabby leather, fur, and hide armors, all armed with crude axes, clubs, or daggers. And everyone of them wore a red bandana, either on their head, around their neck, or covering their mouth. A single, mountain of a man shoved through the door and stood at the head of the group. Hands on his hips, he surveyed the room's inside.

This man...Xero realized he might be trouble. A brute standing so tall his head almost touched the ceiling, and muscles that looked like overstuffed sacks on his arms and chest. His head was shaven clean, and a tatoo of a bird adorned his scalp, the same red color as his thugs' bandanas. Almost every inch of his tanned skin was covered in scars, scrapes, and maulings. Yet, his leather vest without arms seemed to show them off as badges of pride. His face was broad with a flat nose and small, beady eyes. A thick, blonde beard hung from his chin. In his left hand, he held a crude double-bladed axe.

He scowled at the patrons as he and his group marched in. They then proceeded to rudely shove the people seated at five tables from their chairs, and rearange the tables to form one large one. The shaken villagers watched with bated breaths. You could hear a pin drop. Then the brute spoke, in a deep, guttural voice. "Inn's closed, ya sorry fucks.  Git home afore we throws ye out." To Xero and John's despair, the villagers filed out the door, leaving only Xero, John, Maria, the dwarf, and the thugs in the bar.

John, sitting in a darkened corner, smiled to himself. He was hidden out of sight. ''Good. Since Xero's here, there's no way in the nethers this can end peacefully.''

 "Mary.  Beer, NOW!" the brute barked, making Maria flinch violently. She hurriedly filled two trays of mugs and set them on their table, not even asking for payment. She retreated behind the counter, eyes cast to the ground. Now their attention was on Xero and the dwarf, who still devoured his viddles.

"Oy, new guy, 're you deaf or jeez plain stupid?  I said, Inn's closed fer the night,"  he spits in a venomous tone.

Xero did now move. His hands twitched, eager to reach up to his swords, and gut these thugs like trout. But there were about half a dozen, not counting their brutish leader. Xero held his gaze for several minutes. Then, with a low growl, he stood from his chair and stalked over to Xero. He takes a seat on a stool next to him, still holding his doubleaxe.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that," he growls in a dangerous tone. "But, see here, this's 'ow things work 'round here.  When we comes back from work, the shite-faces get out o' me in, an' me and me boys drink.  Got that?"

Xero could no longer contain his anger. "Before I go, why don't you apologize to this lady?" He gestures to Maria, standing behind him. Her eyes widen in shock, as do the man's, in surprise.

"While you're at it, pay her for the drinks, too."

The brute's thugs have now left their seats, and surrounded Xero, snickering. Their boss cracks his knuckles, and growls, "Big mistake, trying to get Sven ter cough up 'is hard earned silvers.  Now, Imma jeez rearrange yer face and hang ye' outside the village!"

He stands from his stool. Xero begins to stand, and reaches for his swords, when a blunt object strikes him on the back of the head. Dizzily, he collapses to the floor, amid the laughter of the thugs and Sven, who proceed's to kick him hard in the gut with a steel-toed boot.

Just then, a huge crash, followed by the sound of splintering wood, Maria's shrieking, and an outcry of pain, and more of surprise, came from right above Xero. Even inebriated, he could tell damn well:  All fucking hell had just broken loose.

~