Chapter 1
Learon
A soft breeze blew by, ruffling random trees, causing grass to shift its position before returning to a common form. The trees came to a stop at a point where bare dirt, brown, sodden with the foot steps of animalistic feet, extending a mile in every long-ward direction. Expanding from east to west on a very soft curve, slowly, almost out of nowhere a brown structure rose from the bare ground following the dirt's previously made pathways.
The casual civilian of the area would know that this was Learon. It was a happy little village, which consisted of almost all races and species. Not only did the common mortal live here, but so did elves, orcs, lycans, and vampires. The village was of a full heart. Not known for rude behavior or bad citizenship.
But today something was odd. The gate doors lay ajar so any random passerby could slip in. They could even commit crimes of horrible severity. Several bodies lay beyond it. Far to mangled to be recognized. A loud scream was drifted along the wind as the sound of crackling and a loud crack filled the air.
The anger-filled color of red spit into the air followed by a puff of black, two gates lay upon each side of the area once you entered. Both ajar, one side was the rich side, where the 'King' of the village thrived. While the other was for the common citizens and beggars, which some-how was the happier area then the wealthy.
Venturing inwards to the rich gate, where several more corpses littered the ground. Torn flesh and blood seeping from the wounds regardless of the stopped hearts, a hellish growl filled the air, almost causing a chain reaction, buildings were set on fire. The poor wood structure caught causing burning civilians to leave their exquisite homes to try and survive. Only to become one of the mangled carcasses that would be left unknown. The scent of burnt flesh filled the air.
Citizens of larger houses sometimes wouldn't escape and burn to death. The same fate happened to the pets of Learon. It was a cruel fate that was gladly accepted by the said "attackers." But of course every person was trying to save themselves. Turning the rich-side of the district into a time where they weren't better then a couple of beggars searching the floors for currency. In a way it was ironic; because they'd taunt the beggars and now, they were forced to act as well as one.
The only stone building of the district, of the village laid further back. Looming over the growing fires of what was a happy area. The district lay to ruin as the king on looked from an upper balcony of the castle.
"Hell is upon us." were his final words.
A servant, a traitor to Learon stood unknown to the king. He cackled before a flame knocked the king in the back. Flipping him over the now blazing balcony, landing on the soil below, the king didn't live much longer, once a creature detected him. The creature was quick as the king's dying breath slipped from him as the creature bit a chink out of his neck, before tearing flesh from bone.
Almost immediately, the large gates guarding the poorer district were torn from their over sized hinges, the doors falling and smashing some citizens which happened to be under the doors. Creatures charging over the fallen doors making meals of the civilians outside their homes, the form whom congratulated the servant stood in the middle of the door, lashing out commands in an un-deciphered language.
Bam, Crack, Scream, the sounds were filling the air. It was always the same, the door would be smashed, replaced would be hell's hottest flames, then the crack was caused by the wood splitting and collapsing in the wake of the structure. Then the screams, as the person was burnt to a crisp or they would be discovered by a creature. The vampires and lycans in this area would be driven to their primal senses, and would cause them to join the creatures that were attacking.
The village laid in ruin now, not a single soul should've been able to survive the battle. But as well as the other side there was a traitor, except he got caught up with one of the only warriors of the village, their battle intense, clanging their swords together and ended up plunging their swords into each other. Both fell adding to the casualty total, the traitor not surviving as the other had.
It was now a few day's later. It had turned out that only six had survived that. That isn't something that could've been aided but, all's that would happen is they were smart enough to escape between the battling. Two of the survivors happened to be walking along the beach of the Colorian River. But they managed to see something drifting down it. It sailed slowly, appearing to be a mirage among the glistening water that would soon prove to be far from an illusion. It was a raft carrying a male with a sword safely init's hilt on his chest.
There were two scars on him, on on his forehead that was small in size, while the other extended from his forearm to his wrist. The hilt of his sword glistened softly with undried blood. The adult among the walking, Donald Perry, a tall lean man at the age of 32, his attire was that of a simple pheasant. But his looks kept the women after him. He was with someone at the time of the massacre. His soon-to-be wife was murdered.
Donald dragged the raft onshore as the female at the age of seventeen inspected the body. Pulling the body off roughly, finding an odd patch of lush grass, and further tended him. There was no open wounds surprisingly. After she gave the heads up to Donald, he picked the unconscious body up, carrying him back to the ruin of Learon.
They managed to get him back into Learon. Four more people were in a corner. A lare stack of corpses were laying alongside them .
With all the blood shed they probably wouldn't be reunited with their own blood. From all that had been lost, There were three males working the fields, digging ditches to deposit the corpses. A female seemed to be barking out orders while the males did the physical labor.
It wasn't for about another day and half the stack of bodies that the male had woken up. He was quick to his feet, and just as quick to the ground, falling painfully.
Clutching to his sword tightly, the hilt was engraved with a gold and jewels. A very valuable looking sword, that seemed to be more of a dangerous momento rather then a weapon. A gold dragon-like creature painting weaved among the jewels.
Suddenly he felt something hit him in the back of his neck, causing him to fall the ground. He rolled over seeing a man of near-old age glaring at him. Holding a fiendish staff in his hand,
"Calm down lad" he said casually.
Crossing his arms pushing the staff to his own chest, The male on the ground raised an eyebrow curiously. Where was he, Who was the man in front of him, was he in danger? That was answered when he had a bowl that appeared to be made from half of a coconut shell, filled with a steaming concoction that seemed to be soup.
He cautiously gazed up, before he looked back to the bowl; before in one sharp gulp he finished it. It didn't taste half as bad as he thought it would. He asked for more from what seemed to be no-one. But that was answered by another 'bowl' of soup in front of him. He gulped down the contents, before he attempted to stand up once again, he slipped to the ground in a painful motion, curling up into a fetal position as his body twitched in pain.
He hissed out a random cuss word, which ended up getting returned with a slap, but the hand wasn't war torn or hardened, it was a female's hand. He looked up seeing that his assumption was indeed correct. It was a female that had smacked him. He didn't catch the first part of what she said, but he did catch "….We found you on a raft with a few scars, nothing open though. So don't try and get up."
He gave a dull sigh, before he heard a soft noise, which sounded like a horn. Within moments it seemed the female was gone, and the male with the devilish staff was pulling him up a shaking and rotting 'ladder' which they then rolled up after they got up. The female pulled it off it's holdings bringing it to a house with her. The barely conscious male noticed a form of a house a few meters away. It appeared shady and old.
He was brought inside of it, followed by the male with the instrument that was used as a horn. He shut the door after everyone, seven people were safely inside. He locked it with a quick incantation.
"What's happening?"
The startled male said wildly, his stomach on fire from the effects of the soup.
"He's reciting an incantation so the demons wont find us."
The injured male gave a simple nod, before he tried to pull himself up, via grabbing on a table. He ended up slipping and ending up in a wheezing fit. His lungs were on fire. Soon after his fit was finished the female who smacked him asked his name.
"It's…Garr…Garrett" he said slowly
She then spoke "Welcome to Learon."
Authors Note: I intend to only put up two chapters of this book and I hope to get some reviews I may be encouraged to do 3-5. Only because I intend to get this published.