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The Continent
Vandal steadied his heart and breathed in deeply of the crisp, sweet-smelling air of the new world he found himself on.
He felt the strength return to his limbs, and he pushed himself to his knees. Wide-eyed, he took in his surroundings with awe. Having grown accustomed to empty valleys, hills of ice and snow, with ruined villages, towns or cities plagued with wandering undead, the young knight from Saggrel was unprepared for what he saw.
Beautiful and lovely green trees towering above him, with every bough and branch holding cheerily tweeting birds of every species. A doe and her stag stopped to stare at him before prancing away into the woods. The gentle caress of clear water lapping against his heels, which reflected the vibrant blue sky above.
And a warm sun peeking out of the clouds.
Vandal smiled and closed his eyes. For the first time, he felt the warmth of its rays on his skin, and probably felt a tad too much as something began to burn in the middle of his chest. The young knight heaved and clutched at his midsection, he saw the faint glow of something beneath his skin. The same glow that would show through someone's skin when holding their hand close to the flickering flame of a lantern or the dancing fire on a torch.
"What the hell is happening to me?" Vandal groaned, crawling away from the bank. He tried to ignore the pain as he put on his armor and mail, making for dry ground on shaky legs.
It was a different experience, having to deal with chilling winter winds all day and night, and now that he was on a world where other seasons existed...
"My liege..." Vandal whispered as he remembered his fallen comrades. He felt the sadness return to him as he realized he was alone in that world now. "Nelzhar..." Seven knights, noble warriors all, dead. And with Nelzhar, Vandal knew with his failure to save him it resulted in his brutal and forceful migration into a foreign world. His fault, and he was benefiting from it. They would never know the promise of a better tomorrow, none but he. Vandal chose to live this new chapter in his life in their honor, and that he would not waste the opportunity to begin again.
The wick in the lantern, as the old saying went, has been trimmed for a new flame.
Vandal kept a good grip on his sword as he ventured through the forest, chancing upon the treaded path of a common road after walking some thirty meters away from the lake. The dust, the dirt and the footprints. He walked over to a sign post, found that there were words inscribed on it, though he couldn't read a single letter out of them. The knight rejoiced as he realized there were people on this world. And if he doubted such a thought he didn't for long as he turned around to see a horse-drawn wagon coming up from down the road.
A lone peasant, an old farmer dressed in roughspun clothes and a straw hat, pulled the pair of horses to a stop when he saw the man in faded black armor standing on the side of the road. The wagon groaned to a halt, and the farmer tipped his hat as he greeted him in a friendly manner, all the while speaking in the common tongue. "Good day to you, sir."
Vandal had difficulty finding his voice, and he all but struggled to keep himself from stuttering when he spoke in reply. "And to you."
The old farmer noted the man's implacable accent and realized that the knight was a foreigner. "Having trouble finding your way around?"
Vandal looked both ways of the road, "Yes, I guess you can say that."
The farmer smiled, his wrinkled cheeks parting the heavy grey bush sprouting from the lower half of his face. He gestured to the back of the wagon, "Climb aboard then, I'm heading to town to sell my produce. I wouldn't mind the company. Perhaps you'll make better sense of your way from there."
"That's very generous of you." Vandal accepted the farmer's offer and boarded the wagon. With a casual tap of the reins, the horses resumed their walk forward and thus the wagon continued its journey through the dirt road into the aforementioned town. The knight leaned onto the woodboards and away from the crates of vegetables. "Thank you, kind farmer. My name's Vandal."
"I'm called Lafnar." The farmer said in reply, "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir Vandal."
As they rode for about an hour, Lafnar made note of the curious looking armor the knight wore, as he'd grown accustomed to the craftsmanship so particularly distinct among the knights of the land. Instead of Cintran steel overlaid with bronze and so amply displaying the three lion heraldry of the royal family, his was dark cast-iron with a large serpent seen devouring its own tail adorning his breastplate. His tabard was worn and tattered, and the chainmail was missing a few links as though it had seen its fair share of action.
"Where are you from, if I may ask?"
Vandal saw no harm in being honest and so he answered, "From Saggrel, likely not heard of it."
"Hmm, you're right, I haven't." Lafnar shrugged, "No matter, a man can learn new things every day if he keeps an open mind. Why don't you tell me about this place you're from?"
"Not much to tell, really." Vandal's mind was filled with visions of an empty and vast frozen wasteland. Every hill and valley hid untold horrors and beasts of every likeness. Buried under snow and frost, from the apex predators such as dragons to the lowliest undead hollowed peasant- not the kind of thing he wished the farmer to know about. "It's a cold and uninviting place, undeserving of your attention."
"That a fact?" Lafnar didn't mind how vague the knight was in his explanation, "I suppose I can understand why you've chosen to be so far from it."
"Yeah, it wasn't my choice at first to leave, but I'm sure glad I did." The knight looked at the old man, "And you, what's your story?"
"Oh, no need to trouble yourself over my tale, good sir, as there is little of note to find in it." The farmer chuckled, "Suffice it to say, I'm just an old peasant farmer trying to get by."
The pair ascended a small hill overlooking a wide flat plain, where the dust came to meet cobblestone as it led into the open gates of a walled town. A wall of finely cut stone, not wooden palisades, with guard towers. Vandal, having grown accustomed to seeing only ruined cities all his life in his dead homeworld, found the sight to his liking. The small smile of appreciation on his young face grew.
"That's Amendale." Lafnar pointed to the town, "If you're looking for solutions to your directions problem, I reckon that's the best place you'll find them."
The farmer took Vandal through the gate, where a group of town watchmen stood guard and listed down every person walking through. They wore simple cloth armor with leather bracings, colored in bright yellow to match the golden lions that adorned their standards. They didn't stop the pair, or anyone for that matter, but they took note of the stranger in Lafnar's wagon. The farmer reassured Vandal that he had nothing to fear from the watchmen, unless he was there to start trouble.
He pulled the wagon to a halt at the one vacant spot in the marketplace and made a slow descent from his seat to begin setting up his stall. Vandal got off the back of the wagon and moved to help the kindly old man. Together, they put up the stall, draped a simple cloth roof over the ropes and stacked the crates of vegetables and fruits.
"Ah, thank you." Lafnar said in gratitude for the knight's assistance.
"This is where we must part ways." Vandal declared after his work was done. "But pray tell of any more advice to part me with, I'll listen."
"Well, there is one I can leave you with." Lafnar fished for a silver coin in his pocket and handed it to the knight, "Don't spend this all in one place."
Vandal smiled as he accepted the gift. Bidding the farmer farewell, he disappeared into the streets of Amendale.
He found himself without a plan for the first time. After spending so many years allowing others to decide his course of action, namely his lord, Vandal was simply left without a goal to aspire to and so he wandered the new world, fumbling for a purpose to call his own.
Two days passed since his arrival and Vandal could tell by then that something was clearly off about himself.
Ever since he was burned by Ashseeker as it was linked with the strange stone portal that sent him into this world, he found that he could neither experience hunger nor thirst. His chest would burn as though his heart were on fire, emanating that strange glow every time he took a moment to rest. Sometimes the heat would be too great to ignore, making sleep all the more impossible for him to attain.
The burning sensation would sometimes spread into his shoulders, arms and legs. A burning of the bones, that could only be alleviated through a brisk walk or just any form of activity. This made the young knight very restless and quite irritable. The only conclusion he could gather was that he was cursed, though in a very strange way. He often expected himself to start showing more visible manifestations of his curse, but would find nothing to aid in this hypothesis.
Spending most of his time learning everything he could from the people of the town of Amendale, from those of loose-lipped company who were willing to divulge the secrets of the world free of charge, Vandal explored new possibilities of adventures he could seize. He was a knight-errant now, one without a master to call but himself, and he had no desire of wasting away like a weapon gathering rust.
He would find ways to make himself useful, in the only way he knew how- the way of the sword.
Vandal took to mercenary work, and he settled in quite nicely too. There was no shortage of work to be found in Amendale and the surrounding communities, as the lowborn folk were often left to fend for themselves. Problems concerning the lawless vagabonds that plagued the countryside, robbed merchants and traders on the roads or stole from storage granaries in nearby farms, such concerns were usually brought to the attention of what passed as the law in the local region.
Government officials too obscure to be noticed by lords would post bounty notices on town squares or notice boards, promising good coin for the deaths of these outlaws- sometimes paying double for the capture of their leaders, to be delivered for the executioner's block the following day. Cintra's army was deemed too important to waste on lowly matters such as these, which made mercenary work in the region a respectable and highly valued profession.
Monster-hunting, on the other hand, were the kind of jobs left alone. Although, as Vandal noticed, they paid a lot better than bounty-hunting.
"Don't push your luck with that." A burly warrior easily a head taller than Vandal, dressed in leather armor and carrying a great-maul, said to him as he watched Vandal running his hand through the pieces of parchment pinned on the wooden board. "Monster-hunting be a witcher's work, or best left to the kingsmen. No use risking it for a big bag o' coins, trust me on that."
Vandal looked up at him in confusion, as he wasn't even able to understand the words on the papers. He was, however, sharp enough to deduce what was on those particular papers he went through based on what the other mercenary told him. Carefully, so as not to appear ignorant, he asked him what was on the bounty. "Why? What's dangerous about this one?"
"That be a fiend hunt." The man explained, "Been snatching some wanderers every now and then, until it got a little too bold for their own good. Damn things are as big as a small hut and strong as horses. Teeth like razors too, and a violent temper to match."
"And you don't think it possible to take on such beasts singlehandedly?"
"Think? I know it." The mercenary cautioned, "Lost six of me mates trying to take one of them down, and we only succeeded in pissing the bugger off. Been trying to warn off cocky sellswords like you to leave it alone for the better equipped. Look, it's all up to you if you plan on tempting fate, don't say I didn't say nothing, alright?"
"Um, thanks." Vandal said as the man went off to join his friends as they entered a local tavern. The knight-errant tore off the bounty notice and stuffed it into his belt, choosing to see if he could do something about that job where the others had failed.
He asked around for directions into the place where he could find the aforementioned beast, receiving for the most part the same warnings the tall mercenary gave him at the start. Vandal, however, would not be swayed from his purpose and he gathered what information he could even if it took all day.
Aside from directions, Vandal got crude descriptions of the beast they called a fiend. He was told that they were easily two or three times the size of a man, and had the strength to rip one in half. They had antlers like a bull moose, a third eye that was said to be able to mesmerize their prey like basilisks, and had claws and teeth like daggers that could tear right through the toughest armor.
Several hunting parties had been sent in the direction of a nearby forest, where the beast was said to have built its lair. Vandal was directed to the remains of a ruined farmstead, where the first dozen victims had been claimed by the fiend. When the hunting parties did not return, a messenger was dispatched to the capital city to request aid from the kingsmen.
Using the one silver coin he got from the old farmer, Vandal bought himself some supplies from the shops of Amendale. Some basic necessities like torches, a sharpening stone, flint and steel to start fires and a short steel dirk. Vandal could not resist the chance at accomplishing such a task before the army arrived, and so he set out to kill the beast.
It was already close to nightfall when he finally reached the ruined farmstead. The red sunset cast long shadows, and Vandal knew it was just a few hours until darkness set in so he stopped to light one of his torches to prepare for a night hunt.
There wasn't much left of the farmstead when he went in to investigate. Likely, the hunting parties started with the place when they began their expedition into the woods. Inside the house, Vandal found the place in shambles. The walls and floor were covered in heavy black smears from long dried blood, and the furniture had been upended and shattered by something large and powerful. The smears looked like some bodies had been dragged out of the house through a large hole in the back wall, and into the garden in the backyard. The plants had been trampled on, leaving clawed prints twice the size of Vandal's foot, indicating the results of the fiend's ruthless assault on the farmstead owner and his family.
A hastily dug grave was found not too far from the garden, possibly the work of the hunting party that came before Vandal, who showed what little respect they had for the dead and buried the remains they came across.
Vandal followed the trail into the forest, finding signs of the fiend's frantic flight into the woods. It toppled down saplings and tore through trees, prompting Vandal to wonder just how big the beast was as he compared the signs to what he had been told back in Amendale.
Then, he found the first corpse of a dead hunter.
The poor man lay slumped against the trunk of a fallen tree, with his neck at an odd angle. His legs had been torn off above the knee and lay just a few feet from his body. Judging from the sticky crimson pool beneath his legs, Vandal thought that if the man did not die from a broken neck he could've died from exsanguination.
Vandal got up and drew his sword, proceeding cautiously further into the woods.
He came across more corpses in the middle of a clearing, every one of them ripped apart limb from limb. Their bodies were scattered along with their equipment, and when Vandal approached the clearing he found corpse-eaters feasting on the remains.
Small wretched creatures, hunched over and bearing accursed forms akin to hollowed undead, they turned on Vandal with surprise and scrambled to viciously attack the armored interloper. Their skin hung from their bodies like loose drapes, exposing red muscle and reeking of decay. Their faces, swollen with necrotic and pus-filled flesh, still dripped with blood from the dead they were feasting on.
These were not the monsters Vandal sought, but they were monsters that needed to be exterminated nonetheless.
Vandal, having experienced far worse creatures in the frozen wastelands of Saggrel and recognizing the far too similar tactic, waited until the monsters came close before striking back. There were six of them, but they stuck to attacking one by one, trying to poke and prod at the knight-errant's defenses to find a weak spot. Vandal never let them get that far as he proceeded to lop both limb and head from their twisted forms. Before long, the remaining corpse-eaters lost what little courage they had and they fled into the darkness to escape the man.
This left Vandal to freely loot the hunters of their belongings, having been taught to relieve the dead of anything that would serve the living better than let it go to waste. "Whew, nothing like a good warmup. Now, let's see what you poor sods have." He found a good kite shield among the dead and some steel-tipped arrows with a quiver- but no bow. There were some gold coins in a pouch on one of the corpses, so Vandal took that as well. Lastly, he found a dagger with the hallmark sheen of silver on its blade, which he tucked in next to the steel dagger on his belt.
Stashing his other finds in the small sack that hung from his shoulders and wearing the shield on his left arm, Vandal continued on, following the trail deeper and deeper into the woods. The trail of corpses stopped, much like a river when its bed was starting to narrow. Vandal realized this probably meant that the fiend was somewhere close, and he hastily built a fire out of a pile of dried leaves and broken tree branches, hoping to attract the attention of the monster.
He had no way of knowing just how dangerous a fiend truly was, otherwise he would've listened to the warnings and so left the hunt to the kingsmen.
His ignorance of the monster's capabilities proved to set him at a disadvantage, as the fire indeed attracted the attention of the fiend and it came with the force and suddenness of an angry storm in the middle of a summer morning. The fiend howled as it broke through the trees, sensing the presence of a single armored man all alone in its woods.
It pushed aside bush and branch as it barreled into the fray, ramming into Vandal as the knight swung about with his shield to brace against the blow. The monster sent him flying back into a nearby tree, knocking the air out of his lungs as his back slammed into the hard bark.
The monster bristled and crouched low. The description of its size was not too far off, as the fiend towered above him by thirteen feet. Arrows and broken off spears pierced its thick hide, and the fiend showed horrid gashes in its sides and right shoulder from the hunters earlier. Vandal got to his feet and shook off the lingering effects of his fall.
He drew his sword and circled the beast, daring the fiend to strike first. He remembered the lessons imparted to him by old Anres- to hit the soft parts like the eyes and sever its tendons, hit an artery or two for good measure.
There were two of the most important things a good warrior of Saggrel was to take note of- watch for enemy telegraphs and learn how to roll.
And roll he did.
Every time the monster charged and swiped at him, it would swipe at empty air because Vandal was already a good foot and a half away from the offending claws. He swung at the fiend in turn, cutting deeply into the beast's arm and sending it into a murderous frenzy. It lunged at Vandal, sending them both tumbling over a steep depression of earth that led into a steep ravine.
The saplings snapped and groaned as the two rolled over them and fell into the creek running along the bottom of the ravine, and Vandal did his best to twist about so he would land on top of the fiend rather than the bottom. The monster shrieked as it realized its predicament, but it was too late. They plummeted into the sharp rocks jutting out of the waters, and landed with a sound crack.
Water and blood sprayed out in all directions at the resulting splash made by the fiend. Vandal, having his fall softened by the monster, rolled off the wriggling beast and frantically searched for the sword that dropped out of his hand.
He found, to his disappointment, that the blade had remained buried in the fiend's body in the spur of the fight and shattered into three pieces after the fall.
The fiend was still alive, broken and wounded, but alive. The jagged rocks impaled the creature through the stomach, pushing its guts out for the knight-errant to see. The creature moaned and huffed in agony, almost drawing sympathy from Vandal had it not just tried to kill him moments before.
He drew the silver dagger and moved to finish the job.
Amendale
Enris chuckled with amusement at the reddening face in front of him and leaned back, "Looks like I win again."
The mercenary knew better than to play gwent when his pockets were already so light, but the gambler within him proved to be too strong for better senses. Alas, here he was now, losing the last of his coin because he couldn't leave well enough alone. The redness in his face betrayed his rising temper, and it was clear that his intentions were about to turn violent. Fortunately for him, he only had to look at Enris, the larger man with the great-maul, and all thoughts of lashing out disappeared from his addled brain.
With an irate huff, the man pushed himself away in disgust and started to walk away.
"Here, have a mug on me at the very least." Enris offered him a copper, "Or better yet, use it on good ol' Maggie over here. She'd improve your mood in a jiffy."
Maggie, a saucy redheaded minx hanging around the bar, jumped at the opportunity to make some coin. Sauntering slowly towards the table, the woman slipped an arm around the drunken sellsword, took Enris' coin and stuffed it in between her full and amply displayed breasts. After showing some leg from the naughty gap in her skirt, she led the lightheaded man upstairs, planning on showing him his money's worth.
Usually Enris didn't show that much generosity to just anyone, but his opponent that night had once been part of his crew. He wasn't about to let a silly card game ruin their bond as coworkers, and he might just need him in future jobs.
"He was that close to murdering you, mate." Rostchild, a thin and gaunt-looking ruffian with a black linen bandage over where his right eye used to be, shared his observation with his companion.
"I know." The burly mercenary replied, sweeping in the large pile of coins so he could gather them up into a bag. He collected the cards and dumped them into the bag along with the coins, planning to sort them out later. "That's why I have you around, to tell me the obvious."
The two friends had arrived at Amendale looking for work and turning in a few bounties that the mayor was willing to take off their hands. That night, he graced the tavern with his presence as he planned to sample of the fine establishment's newest choices of beverages, all of them imported from the nearby kingdom of Nazair.
The coastland ale from the southern lands was considered a welcome change to the common drink found in the local inns or taverns, as the ale produced a peculiar warmth in one's belly and a sweet aftertaste just seconds after chugging it down, thus earning it the well deserved name Vixen's Choice after some drunken bard started a catchy song in honor of the fine beverage.
Suddenly, the door swung open with a loud bang.
All eyes turned to the entrance, where a bloody and wet man in faded cast-iron armor called for the mayor's attention. Breathless, as though he ran a marathon, but smiling triumphantly with a face smeared with black ichor, he announced. "Mayor Eddan!"
The mayor, a balding middle-aged man dressed in bright yellow and red silks, gently set his cup down as he turned towards the addresser. His guards placed their hands on their swords in case something was amiss. "Yes? What do you want?" Enris studied the young man closely and realized it was the same man he talked to at the town square earlier that day.
The knight-errant carried a large bloody brown sack, its edges dripped with dark crimson. His hand dove into the sack and he fished out the head of a three-eyed monstrosity, with its antlers clearly lopped off to better fit its package- the fiend that terrorized the woodlands outside Amendale!
A woman shrieked in horror, a server girl fainted, and everyone gasped in astonishment at the unprecedented event.
"My name is Vandal, and I've just killed your monster!"
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