The sky was a dull gray as the hooded figure moved into the tavern. The sun was out, but could not be seen through the clouds that lay thick over the land. The air was cool, the wind having picked up after the light showers earlier in the day. It came in from the mountains, giving the air a bit of a frigid chill; a gift from the snow covered lands to the north. The man pushed open the door to the Stomping Shield Tavern and Inn, and strode quickly inside, wanting to escape the dreariness of the day for a warm fire. He sensed something was wrong as soon as he stepped inside; there was no fire going, no noise, just silence. He scanned the room, trying to find any clues as to what was going on. It seemed to have been a fine tavern, a stone fireplace in the corner with a stage nearby to entertain guests. Tables had filled the entire middle of the tavern, chairs neatly set near them, waiting for the weary traveler to take a seat and rest. The bar rested on the right hand side of the room, which, at one point, had drinks of every sort lining the back wall, a barrel and keg on top of the bar, and glasses of every shape and size lined the top of the bar, waiting to be filled by the meticulous bar tender. The walls of the inn were covered with a plethora of items; it seemed as if there hadn't been one part of the wall that wasn't covered with a trophy or an animal head. But the scene before the man showed something entirely different. Chairs were flung about the room, most broken, others precariously leaning on the tables for dear life. The bar was an utter mess, drink and food splayed everywhere, and everything behind it shattered or broken. All the walls were covered in blood, the sticky substance clinging to the different items hanging, obscuring everything. The man stepped carefully around the wrecked tables towards the farther end of the establishment, hoping to find something to explain the ruined tavern.
He unsheathed the sword that hung in the leather bandolier on his left side, and held it ready in his right hand as he walked around. He took a few more steps towards the back and instantly the odor of death and decay greeted his nostrils. He winced a little, and turned his head to the left, noticing a door there. He silently strode to it, readying his sword. He too a deep breath as he yanked it open and backpedaled, sword at the ready. A shape came at him, and he quickly slashed his sword forward with the speed and accuracy of a seasoned warrior. The thing fell to the ground; now in two pieces after the great swing of the man's sword. He pushed it onto its back with his boot, and grunted in disgust. The thing before him looked to be a patron of the tavern, now a cold and dead corpse; its skin blue and black. Blood was caked around his abdomen, and it seemed as if his back had been scorched by fire. The man quietly shook his head and moved back to the doorway and peered inside; the smell of decaying flesh assailed him, and he saw the bodies inside, all rotting away, just thrown into the room carelessly. His instincts were telling him to get out of there; he did not want to meet the same fate as these unlucky people. He kneeled over the body he had cut in half and held his symbol of Mraknae over it, offering a quick prayer to the god of light. He got up and pulled his cloak tighter around him as he walked back to the front of the tavern so he could leave.
As he was nearing the door he heard a soft click and quickly spun around to face a dog-like coming down the stairs loading a crossbow. He sighed and shook his head as he pulled forth one of his knives and with a flick of his wrist threw it at the thing. The creature caught in the chest and fell backwards, just as it fired its weapon, sticking the bolt fast into the ceiling. The creature was known as a gnoll, a type of lycanthrope creature, looking like a mix between a man and dog. Gnolls were not a particularly smart race, but they were effective muscle for hire. They were one of the most common races on Kryanth, right up there with orcs and goblins.
Nothing is ever easy! The man thought to himself as he crept up the stairs, making sure to avoid stepping on the felled gnoll. As he ascended the stairs he heard the guttural language of the gnolls wafting down. He silently cursed himself for not hearing them earlier when he came in.
I'm getting to old for this kind of thing! He thought as he tried to listen to the conversation upstairs. The man was able to speak some gnollish, enough to be able to understand the gnolls and they him.
"No! We are moving to the next town as we planned earlier! You know as well as I do that Koingr is unfit to lead us!" He heard one gnoll yell at the other.
"No! We should stay here as our leader commands!" Barked another one of the gnolls.
It was then that the man heard the footsteps coming his way; he quickly drew forth the buckler off his back. He rushed up the stairs and turned just in time to parry a glancing blow from the gnoll. He quickly backpedaled and slashed with his sword, the gnoll ducked under it and rolled towards him. The man proceeded to bash his shield into the oncoming gnoll, stunning it for a few seconds; it was a few more than he needed. The man slashed low with his sword, striking the gnoll across its stomach, spilling its life blood on the floor. It writhed there on the ground for a few seconds before finally taking its last breath. The man waited a moment, and heard the gnolls still arguing in one of the rooms on the right and breathed a sigh of relief. He quietly snuck up to the door and took a deep breath as he sent a quick prayer to Mraknae. He kicked the door open and threw his shield up in front of his face as he charged into the room.
He stopped in the middle of the room and did a complete spin, sword flashing to his side, making him look like a whirlwind of steel. His quick slashes caught a few of the gnolls off guard, and they were wounded, grasping their injuries trying to stem the blood flow. He turned to see two gnolls come at him. He put his shield out in front of him and threw all his weight forward and bowled the gnolls over and onto the ground. He fell on top of them and quickly slashed with all his strength to kill one of them. The other wiggled out of the brawl and brought its spear out to face the oncoming warrior. The man flashed a devious smile as he quickly sent another one of his throwing knives at the creature's head; the thing was dead before it hit the ground.
He turned to find two last gnolls standing in front of him, both wearing grimaces on their doggish faces, as they brandished their weapons; one was stupid enough to charge him. The gnoll thrusted its spear towards him as he moved to the right, the blow missing completely. The gnoll tried the same move once more; The man shot his sword forward and whipped it to the left, banging the spear which in turn knocked it out of the hands of his opponent. The gnoll stood there wide eyed as the man strode forwards and deftly stabbed his sword into its throat. The one remaining gnoll seemed to pale, but stood its ground anyway. The man strode up to it and knocked its crude sword out of the way and held it against the wall with his shield. He shoved his sword into the gnoll's face as it whimpered.
"I'm only going to say this once so listen up you miserable runt," the man snarled into its ear in his rudimentary form of the gnollish tongue. "You are going to go to your commander, this Koingr, and tell him that he should be wary of who he makes enemies with. Be sure to tell him that Paladin Del'Margaux will be watching him closely!" The gnoll quickly nodded its head and the man let it go. It quickly scampered off to its commander. He couldn't help but chuckle; how he loved to make these miserable creatures fear him! There was no other creature besides gnolls he enjoyed freeing the land of more. Well, there were always shades…
The man shook his head and replaced his shield onto his back as he went back down the stairs to the main floor of the tavern. He turned one more glance towards the back of the inn where he had found the bodies. May Mraknae have mercy on their souls! He silently prayed as he went out the door. He found his mount grazing nearby and whistled for him to come. The horse, who had been christened Brenar, came trotting over immediately after hearing its master call it. The man smiled and affectionately patted Brenar's back as he whispered into his ear:
"Brenar, I need you to follow that fleeing gnoll, can you do that for me?" The horse whinnied and immediately started after the running gnoll.
Yes, the man thought, I believe this Koingr and his followers will be nonexistent by midday tomorrow.
And with that thought Paladin Evarius Del'Margaux rode off in pursuit of the wayward gnoll, who was too frightened to realize he was leading his enemy straight to his commanders.