The Lone Adventurer

The lone adventurer strolled down the dusty dirt paths of rook ridge. His eyes filled with a life time of pain and misery. But what did it mean to him. Now he had lost the comfort and trust that he once burdened. His flintlock was lying upon his back. It was the only thing left for him to treasure along with the Diachi clasped by his cold hands. As he approached the lucky heather a Highwayman leapt out "The money or your life!" Shouted the Highwayman.

"How about your life" muttered the adventurer as he lifted the hood that covered his face.

"It's Lionheart, Run!" Screamed the highwayman as he ran away but as each step hit the ground the bullet from the flintlock got closer. With in an instant his head was taken clean off by the bullet. The adventurer strolled on casually like nothing had just happened. He got to the door of The Lucky Heather. He pushed the door and everybody diverted their eyes as they saw the hood and the robe with a gold lion on it. The bartender approached Lionheart cautiously "I would prefer it if you would get out. You're scaring the customers." Whispered the bartender. He immediately felt a glove tighten around his throat "I would like one of your finest ales please" Grunted Lionheart in a rough tone. Shaking, the bartender reached over slowly to the beer pump and started to pour the beer "Ten, nine…" Exclaimed Lionheart. The bartender scrabbled quickly at the pump until he had a pint of beer in the glass. "Cheers" mumbled Lionheart. He slammed the coins down on the bar. He walked out and headed down the road not looking back.

He headed towards the temple of shadows with a parcel that had promised him fifty thousand on delivery. He walked on with a smirk on his face. That money was all he needed to get Castle Fairfax under his control. He could almost taste the sweetness of the power and royalty. His thoughts were interrupted as he reached the gates. "What's your business here?" Questioned the shadow worshipper.

"I'm here to deliver a parcel."

"Come in then" Gestured the shadow worshipper. The gates creaked open and a cold wind rushed out. Liontheart just welcomed the cold air; it was just like his heart. He walked on in through the gates and down the stairs. The walls were stained with putrid blood. It stunk of rotting flesh and the fact that they didn't have a toilet. He could hear the souls of the tortured and dead moaning and howling. How it bought back memories that had him haunted as a child. It was starting get to the point where it was getting too much. He sprinted down the long spiral staircase until the voices were no more. He was glad to be away from that at least. "Scared of the dark, are we?" Asked a voice.

He turned around panting with fear to see a tall man in robes with his face shadowed. Like a clone of Lionheart almost. "It's not the dark that troubles me." Replied Lionheart.

"Enough chatter, hand over the parcel" Demanded the shadow worshipper. Lionheart chucked him the parcel. "Now the money!" Replied Lionheart. The shadow worshipper chuckled "Did you really believe that I would hand over fifty thousand just like that?" Asked the shadow worshipper. With in a fit of rage he took his Diachi and threw it perfectly at his throat. All of a sudden a vale of shadow formed a shield around him. The Diachi just bounced back into Lionheart's hand. He threw a vortex at him but the same happened apart from this time he got out of the way. "Not as wise as the legends say" Chuckled the shadow worshiper. These very words filled his eyes with hatred. He drew his sword and charged at him. The shadow worshipper drew the legendary maelstrom and clashed swords with Lionheart. Lionheart started to overwhelm him with pure strength pushing him backwards until the shadow worshipper broke free and flipped over him and struck at his back but Lionheart bought his sword to block his back just in time. Fire came from his hand and knocked Lionheart backwards. Lionheart was about to lunge but just then the shadow worshipper disappeared and left a trail of shadow behind him which faded. "Damn!" shouted Lionheart. Just then he was approached by some cautious shadow worshippers clasping crossbows. They opened fire, and Lionheart was all of a sudden confronted by a wall of bolts. Lionheart slammed his fist into the ground and time slowed down all around him. He desperately sprinted past and time unfroze just as he got past the bolts. One skimmed him leaving a cut across his thigh. He carried on clutching the wound that he had just taken. He carried on sprinting until he reached the gate. Two guards who were trembling put their swords out to make a barrier. Lionheart, so desperate to get out drew his flintlock pistol from its harness and opened fire. The guards were immediately flung back with blood pouring from their chests. Lionheart sprinted; as the bolts from the crossbows got closer he got faster until he could go no faster; and eventually he managed to reach the gate and closed it. He ran and ran until the place was merely a shadow in the distance.