Chapter 1 - Inn Rumble
The inn was, in essence, at the peak of its lifetime business. New, young, needy customer's filed in everyday for a chat, a hard beer, some young ladies, or maybe even a rest at one of the newly renovated rooms which recently had it's price sent skyrocketing by the influx of wannabe adventurers or casual tourists. All for the newly discovered Sindar ruins, just a quick ten-minute stroll for town, so close and convenient and undeniably interesting that even teenagers and kids with time to waste wandered there on their free time. It had been a surprise to the villagers of that small town itself, never knowing that the small, picturesque lake which was situated so closely to them housed ruins that made treasure-hunters, Sindar explorers, and every dreaming thief salivate until puddles formed at their feet. And they had embraced the ruins completely. Post-cards, Sindar-muffins, Sindar-inns, Sindar-rune shops with false Sindar runes, and the tourists fell for it, bait, hook, and trap.
But, ruins as irresistible as ancient Sindar ruins attracted more all sorts of people. There were nice people…and bad people. And right now, the inn was full of the latter. Sitting around the tables as if they owned the joint, the beer-guzzling, smelling group comprised of bandits, outlaws and other peoples often referred to as the cesspools of society, they had driven out the normal, younger customers.
The bartender and owner of the establishment stood behind the counter, making sure to avoid any and all eye contact with bunch of hooligans. He stood there, fidgeting, wiping off the same bottle of wine that was in his hand for the last two hours. He prayed, hoping that they would leave soon. At about, now. However, that wasn't exactly happening, and he had no idea what to do. He didn't want to make waves; waves were bad. Waves meant possible bar fights. And bar fights meant the possible destruction of the inn, at least with this crowd. No, no waves, not when he had almost managed to pay off the debt he had accumulated to build the inn in this teeny town.
He gulped. Raising his eyes just a fraction of the inch to check the situation, he couldn't help but turn his vision to the two strangers who sat at a stocky wooden table. They seemed like the normal wayfarers that had been going in and out, thought just a bit more fantastic. A man and a woman, the man was exquisitely shaped. So fine of features, (the bartender grumbled silently to himself), that he probably had a horde of women fawning over him constantly. Lengthy, thick, lustrous silver-white hair that was tied neatly into a ponytail hanging over his shoulder, contrasting against skin the color of peaches and cream. And with baby-blue eyes that could captivate a crowd, a straight, slender nose, and what might have been slightly thin lips, he wore earrings that somehow managed to look fashionable stylish while being manly. The chest armor he wore, a mix of black, red, orange, and blue lines, was mysteriously appalling and appealing at the same time.
Next to him, the woman was somewhat plainer, though just as attractive. She had short-cut eye length bobbed hair the color of raven's feathers that was tied back in some unique braid pattern that looked absolutely cute on her and matched the dark chocolate wide eyes that were now widened in disgust and distaste at the crowd of rowdy folk. She didn't wear armor herself, only a black and loose two-piece pants and jacket that made her seem more like a servant than anything else.
The bartender peaked up from where he stood a bit more, interest blooming in him. They both seemed confident in themselves, though the man didn't have a weapon. The woman, however, carried some sheathed weapon to her side that seemed like some kind of short sword. And, her hand was hovering precariously over it, a sign of her wariness of the people around her.
A sudden slam of a door opening sent the bartender hurtling back to reality. He swirled around, to see that the revolving wooden door leading to the kitchen had suddenly opened, and an energetic waitress, the new one he had recently hired to staff the burgeoning business of the inn, come out, smiling.
"J-ju-ju-ju-jul…" His voice faded, if that near-silent cry to call her back to safety had made noise at all. He hoped that nothing bad would happen to her, that then men would let her pass unmolested and unharmed. His hopes were quickly dashed however, when one of the grunting beasts raised his sweaty hand to squeeze her womanly buttocks.
Lyon mumbled to herself, giving the stare to the disgusting excuses of men that were ogling her. Her hand hovered near her blade, ready to unsheathe some hurt on these strangers.
"Prince." Lyon whispered, then shook her head correcting herself, knowing that she shouldn't address her liege like that in a foreign town. "Hero, why did we have to come to this inn again? It's a dump!" She muttered furiously so that the people around her almost heard her secretive tone.
"Well," Prince Hero of Falena scratched his chin. "…It was the only inn available. All the other inns are all booked. It's better than sleeping on the streets, isn't it?"
"It's as if we are already sleeping on the streets." Lyon scrunched her nose as a odor of something that smelled like lingering road kill hovered near her. "Scratch that. It's like sleeping at a dumpster. It smells like one."
Hero shrugged his shoulders. "It can't be helped. We might only be here for a few days anyways, so suck it up!" He too had smelled the same thing Lyon had, and it had taken all his will-power to not gag.
"Alright I'll 'suck it up.' And since when did you say that, prin-I mean, hero?"
Hero shrugged again. "Influence from Kyle perhaps."
"Ahh. I knew it was that skirt-chasing nimcompoop." Lyon cursed the queen's knight for corrupting the prince. "You're right. I guess I was over-reacting a little. This is what it is like to be an adventurer I guess."
"Let's enjoy the ruins then, I hear they're exciting." Hero's stomache growled, a signal that his body wanted food. "Wonder where the food we ordered is."
"It should have been here awhile ago." Lyon said, looking arounds for a waitress. "I think that's it!" She pointed excitedly at the opened kitchen door as a busty blond walked out with a tray of food that Lyon recognized as what they had ordered.
And as Lyon watched, a burly man the waitress walked past reached up and squeezed her behind. Surprised, the blond jumped into the air, the tray of food in her hand falling smack-dab onto the head of another of the beastly men.
"I'm so-so-so-so sorry, sir!" The woman tried to apologize, shock on her face as she pulled a towel from behind her. "So-so-so sorry! Something grabbed me from behind so I jumped and the plate went falling out of my hand and I'm just so sorry!"
The man glared at her with squinty, rat-like eyes. Rising up from his feet, towering over a head over her, he grabbed and held her wrist in an iron group. "You stained mah' clothes, pretteh' thing." His accent a thick guttural tone. "How ya' gonna pay for it."
"I-I c-can get th-that washed for you sir." The woman began stuttering, realizing the dangerous situation she was in. "I-if you leave your sh-shirt at the counter tonight I can -" She squealed as his grip tightened.
"I kin think o' a few favors I'd like." The man lewdly grabbed his crotch with his free hand, leaving no doubt on the woman as to what he 'happened' to want. "Hows bout' you entertain me and a few o' mah friends as payback." The men at his table cheered.
"I'm so-so-so sorry sir, I, I think the kitchen is calling me, I have to go now." The blond tried to pull her hand away, but the man held tight.
"You're not goin' anywhere." He reached up with his free hand to grab her other hand – only to be stopped as a strong hand grabbed his arm.
"Let the lady go." Hero said in a voice that brooked no argument. "She said she needed to go to the kitchen." His eyes narrowed, boring into the larger man's eyes with a bone-chilling intensity.
"An' what if I don't" The man said. On any other, his lifted chin might have meant defiance, but on him he looked like an overgrown baboon.
"The prince!" Lyon shook her head, mentally reprimanding herself.. "Hero said let the girl go! Immediately, you beast!" Lyon had gotten up exactly when her prince had, standing protectively by his side.
"What did you call me little girl!" The man roared, blond forgotten as he threw her arm down and reached for the dagger hidden under his belt. The men around his table, at all the tables rose up together, like some archaic game of Simon-says.
"I think it would be best if all of you left this inn now." Hero said, turning so that everyone heard him. "You've done enough to this inn."
The angered men around him drew out hidden daggers and cracked knuckles, drawing closer in a circle to the two, shorter people that dared order them to 'get out.'
In response, Hero grabbed the man's arm with both his hands, then kicked his leg's from under him. The man, who was slow, and had slow responses, took three seconds to register he was falling as Hero began to fling him around the room, over a kneeling Lyon, and knocking down the men around her – before releasing, the man shooting straight out of the window!
"Holy shit! Did you see what he did!"
"He threw Bog out the window"
"How'd a boy do that!"
"Who cares!"
The men drew again together past their shock, in united cries of 'get him!'
Some men leapt at the two – only to be thrown away as Lyon jump-kicked them, sending them sprawling against the closest wall.
"Don't you dare touch the prince! Darnit! I meant don't you DARE touch Hero!" Lyon yelled, using her unsheathed sword as she smacked people left and right with an unnatural strength that sent them flying through the air like so many rag dolls.
"Lyon, come here!"
The fighting suddenly stopped as Hero held up his left hand. It shone green, a bright light glaring into the eyes of the people who looked into it. A vortex of wind ripped into existence, chairs picking up, beer spilling over and going spraying into the air. Razor-sharp wind cut through clothes, slashing it into tatters as Hero and Lyon stood at the eye of the storm.
One of the men picked himself up, rushing towards the door as he recognized the rune. "It's a Cyclone rune! Rune user! Run for it!"
The door was suddenly clogged as the men tried to escape at once, knowing the dangers of one who wielded runes, especially a cyclone rune.
Five minutes later, the only thing left of the men in the inn was their lingering stench. The bar of the inn looked like a war zone as items were scattered everywhere and the floor was wet with beer and soggy food.
"Prince. I mean, Hero. It looks like we failed to not cause more problems." Lyon sighed. "Again."
"You would have helped the girl if I hadn't Lyon." Hero accused her.
"You're right." Lyon smiled. "I'm proud of you, prince."
"That's Hero."
"Darnit!"
The rune pulsed, hidden behind thick stone doors in a hidden vault. It sensed someone, someone who had been chosen by the Dawn rune…someone who intimately knew the last possessor of the Sun rune.
It waited, hungry. Its time had come at last, after having been trapped by the Sindar and buried in the excuse of a temple. It had awoken from its deep slumber underneath the lake, and thoughts of past-glory and power hovered at the fore of its sentience.
How it longed for the Sun rune! The power to turn a country to ash, to raze the land until there was only dust! Damn the Sindar! Once it escaped from this wretched prison, it would destroy their meddling race! It would call upon the powers of the Sun rune, invoking the power of god!
But that was…far from now. It waited…for it knew that the one once chosen by the Dawn rune would come…and that was when it would make use of its chance to escape…
Lyon: I need to stop calling him prince here!
Author's note:
Hi, this is my newest attempt at writing another adventure. I played S5 and I really liked, moreso than any other RPG that's out so far. You can even call me obsessed. This first chapter is a little teaser, but the story will be action-oriented mostly. I can't give away anymore of the plot so that's all i'm going to say. for now. P