A Man burst into the tavern, the fire flickering and candles suffering greatly under the cold winter gales. Faces started to stir from their drunken delusions and glanced at the figure standing by the door. The Stranger wasn't like the men of the area; whom were of considerable build to accommodate the Siberian environment; he was a tall man, but scarcely built, his armour dully shone in the candle light and a glint of his sword was barely visible is such uncertain glare.
"Close the Door!" a drunk loudly moaned, as the stranger closed the door the candle's found new vigour and started burning viciously.
Seeing no real threat in the stranger, the drunks had returned to their conversations and drinks, some still nervously eyed the stranger but none rose to meet him. Keeping an eye on him as he walked to the bar, one man voiced "He looks like a dangerous one."
"Nah, he's too skinny, he looks harmless." the second man conflicts. As he said that, The Stranger stopped a few feet away from him, his hood was thrown back when he entered the tavern; his face was young and friendly; but defined and evident experience in battle. The first man guesses he isn't much older than 20 years of age. Looking into his eyes he can see a cold, unwavering stare that put him on edge, his companion wasn't so perceptive.
"Got a problem, Son?" the second man barked, obviously looking down on the stranger.
"Don't mind him Sir, he's had a bit too much to drink!" the first man recovered nervously, seeing his companion falling into a troublesome relationship with this stranger. Then something unexpected broke across the strangers features, he began to smile.
"No problems friend, we all get a bit on the drink every so often." The Stranger's voice matched his features; it was young and friendly but had an air of superiority and authority behind it, best to stay away from him.
"Bar-keep, a round for the house on me!" The Stranger shouted, met with a hearty cheer from the occupants of the Tavern and many enthusiastic raps on his back as he walked to the bar. "One for you too, good sir; and some information." The Stranger said, placing a gold dinar on the bar.
"What do you want to know?" The Bar-keep said, taking the dinar into his hand and examining it.
"I need to know how to find a man called Nicoli, and you're going to tell me where he is." The stranger said. The Bar-keeper said nothing; his hands shaking nervously, the Dinar fell from his grasp, falling onto the bar with a quiet thud.
"Ah I see you know whom I speak of, now where is he," The stranger said quietly. The Bar-keep didn't know what to think of the stranger, he was still in his youthful years and he spoke in a friendly, open tone. But he held a blade by his belt and wanted to contact with the biggest crime lord in the area, "Relax, he owes me a favour."
The Bar-keep's head shot up; Nicoli the Butcherer, owing this boy a favour! "Who are you?"
The stranger placed a small token on the bar, not a gold Dinar, but a dull silver coin, one not of the area. The Bar-keep stepped back in horror as the Stranger lifted his hand, the coin had a symbol engraved onto its back; it was the Black Star; The Symbol of the Infamous Black Knight Order, recently revived in the past few years by an unknown knight, honoured by the ruler of Denmark and countless other nations by his service to the crown or lord of their respective areas, was this he? Was this one of the most famous young knights in the western world? The Bar-keep desperately searched his mind for the young knight's name, but to no avail, most people knew not who he was, save a legend carved into the face of the world in a matter of years.
"Tell Nicoli that his friend, Dmitri, wants a small chat."
The Bar-keep staggered as though he was struck, his face concealing his nervousness from this mighty character, a sliver of fear eating at his heart towards this knight. Whom belonged to an order famous for its retribution and punishment of heretics and naysayers.
"I'll get him now" Said the Bar-keep, hastily leaving the room
"I'll be here." I replied dully lifting my glass up into the air, then to my lips, 'Why does everyone always do that? I'm a rather nice guy when you get to know me."
"We all are nice guys when you get to know us, just takes a long time to do that," a man sitting to the side of me said, "What do you want with Nicoli anyway? He's best to stay away from, unless you've got some powerful friends"
"You don't think I have powerful friends?"
"I'm sure you do, even then he's a nasty piece of work"
"So am I," I reply roughly "I'm Looking for my brother, I heard he's in the area causing trouble and I'm here to put an end to it,"
"You don't mean you're the brother of…"
"The Black Magician Donovan, yes" I interrupted "He's been a thorn in my side for years, and that's why I've got this," My Hand falling to my Blade, comfortably hanging in its scabbard, its familiar shape and weight perfectly held in his loose grip "This is the blade Dawn's Rise, and with my Dagger; Twilight's Call; I can put an end to Donovan, once and for all."
"But he's your brother,"
"He killed my family," I retorted grimly, "He's no longer my brother, only my enemy." My Grip around Dawn's Rise tightened suddenly, the blade quivering under the sudden movement, "You need to get out of here now,"
"I meant no disrespect, I swear." Sweat broke on the man's brow
"It's not me you should be worrying about," I whispered before jumping off my stool, kicking it backwards into someone, turning to face my foes in one graceful manoeuvre. "I'm guessing you've been sent here by Nicoli?"
"He doesn't like it when people talk about him here, especially outsiders," A Thug threatened, "You might want to get out of town tonight, if you know what's good for you."
"Do I know what's good for me? That's that what you should be asking, do you know what you should be asking, Sunshine? You should be asking yourself, do you know what's good for you?"
"Enough of this, Gut this pup and let's go, Nicoli's expecting us back soon!" Two of the thugs step forward, moving from behind the leader; a light of fear in their eyes as I step to meet them.
"Do you know who you're fighting? Do you know who you're trying to kill today?"
"Nicoli doesn't care; anyone who steps onto his turf gets the same treatment."
"My name is Dmitri Rozenov, Captain of the Black Knights," I yelled to all those who occupy the tavern, "And a nasty piece of work for those who anger him."
The thug leader throws his comrades aside "If you won't do it, I will!" he runs forward, his mace swinging in a murderous arch towards me.
"Very well," I sigh. Like a snake my hand shot up, grasping the thug's wrist, my grip like iron. I flip his wrist, pressure staying constant, and send him to the ground with a loud thud. I position his arm in the small of his back, but keeping the pressure painful. In total, the fight lasted 2 seconds. "Still want to fight me?" I whisper into his ear.
"No," He grunted faintly
"Then get your boss, I want to talk to him personally." I order him as I let him get up "And if he sends any more goons, I'm sending back heads"