Introduction

Fair warning, this novel contains swearing. A lot, in fact, but not to the point of oversaturation. (16+)

No sex, though, you see, I am a writer of experience and I can't write about what I have not experienced. Magic's fine, though, I think I can more easily grasp the concept of that

This novel is also extremely tongue-in-cheek. Serious, yes, but tongue-in-cheek at the same time. Lot of twists as well, but you didn't hear that from me.

What, do I need to pitch it to you? Come on, we're done here, flip over

Episode I - The Chosen One

Note that this novel is split in an episodic manner, into four episodes, each episode consisting of several chapters. Don't ask why.

(SIDENOTE: A chapter is going to release every WEDNESDAY, tune in!)

Chapter 1: Darkness Prevails

A big bar, in the midst of a lot of noise, from drunk men and women shouting and just talking loudly and chanting and dancing, some wrestling loudly, but not in a serious manner. The bar is a modest place, tables of hardwood, old but regularly cleaned and appealing to look at, fancy wine and beer decorating the place, and a closed door leading to the backroom.

The few windows in the place let in the morning sunlight, along with the murmurs and footsteps of the people on the outside, mostly villagefolk walking about, a young man with a leather hat and simple clothes holding newspapers, shouting;

"The daily paper! Come and get the daily paper! There's news! There's trouble and feuds! Victories and loots! Come and get the daily paper!"

The village is a calm, peaceful place filled with peaceful folk, men, women and children, horses and dogs. The grounds are covered in thick, light-green grass and clean brown roads. It is bordered very closely by the woods to the west, a group of tall trees splitting the two apart.

Amidst the various figures drinking and shouting in the bar, stands an old man, looking to be around fifty years of age, strong in figure, with long, gray hair and a long beard of similar color, in simple, comfy clothes of leather origin. A smile decorates his slightly wrinkly face, a big glass of beer in his right hand as he rests his left arm on the bar.

The man watches in pride as the other folk dance and chant. He takes a sip from his glass- actually, a sip would be to greatly undermine it, as he glugs down almost a third of his huge glass in one, long shot.

The bartender, a thin man in his fourties with tired-looking eyes and a black goatie, approaches the bar to refill the old man's glass.

"Do I look like I'm finished, Winnie?" blurts the old man. He speaks with an accent that sounds American, mixed with a tint of medieval.

"Sorry sir, I just thought-"

The old man laughs loudly and cheerfully, patting the bartender on the shoulder. The bartender gives a very slight smile to follow him up.

"Lighten up, Winston boy! Have a drink!" says the old man, offering the rest of his glass to the bartender.

"But.. I can't drink during work, I-"

"My bar, my rules!" laughs the old man, slightly pushing the glass to the bartender's chest. The bartender picks it up, smiling at the old man. "You work hard, come on, have a drink.. It's on me!"

The bartender nods, drinking very minute portions of the beer, putting it back and walking off to tend to another drinker.

The old man turns to face the crowd, waving at somebody in the distance, almost about to call out to him, before he is interrupted by a crazed-looking old fool that had presumably been laying asleep on the floor, in old rags, with a large, white beard almost taking the shape of a lion's mane.

"When the seeds grow into flames!" cries the crazed fool, "And the men are toppled by dames! When the mist rises high and darkens the days ... The dead of the fallen shall lay!"

"What's with him?" asks the old man, watching the crazed fool while he sips from his beer.

"Oh, that with the lion's mane?" says Winston, tending to another drinker as he turns to the old man. "He's- He's been here since we've opened... Should I-"

"Nah," says the old man. "He's somewhat entertaining."

"The cocks laying havoc instead of eggs, the wards of darkness among the dead, the angels foreseeing above the heads ... Of the dead and the souls that stray!"

"Cocks?" says the old man, confused, but still somewhat amused. "What is he on about?"

"Sir," says Winston. "Really, sir, if you want me to-"

Winston is again interrupted, but this time by the crazed fool's voice rising to a crazy, loud energetic chant.

"Piss, tears and flames! Flames, tears and piss! The wails and the grunts and the trails of the blood, smudging down all the bliss!"

"Hey, Winnie." calls the old man, snapping his fingers for him to come closer.

"Yes, sir?"

"Get him a drink." he says.

"Yes, sir."

Winston fills a mug with beer and walks over to the fool to offer it to him, the fool snaps all of a sudden and smacks the beer out of his hand. It flies into the bar's wall and shatters, startling the surrounding folk. Winston moves back a few steps. The crazed fool walks towards the bar's entrance, chanting once again, in an even louder and crazier voice.

"Piss, tears and flames! Flames, tears and piss! The wails and the grunts and the trails of the blood, smudging down all the bliss!"

He exits the bar. Winston looks back at the old man, puzzled. The old man just gestures for him to come back and make nothing of it, which he does, as he returns and fills a glass of beer for another person who had been seated next to the old man for a while.

He is an odd-looking drunk, sitting beside him to get a new round of beer. He looks to be as old as the man, with thick, gray hair, pale white skin, a somewhat thin body, and strange purple-colored eyes, wearing worn-out leather clothes and a large clean black top hat.

"Awful weather we're having, isn't it?" Calls the drunk to the old man, his accent closest to British, with the same tint of medieval. The old man looks at him, confused, thinking of how to respond to that for a moment.

"It's..." he starts to say, before he is interrupted by Winston, coming to refill the drunk's beer.

"He's Nexonish," says Winston, "Where they come from, 'awful' means 'delightful'."

"That's just... Awful language." says the old man.

"Why thank you, mate!" says the drunk, raising his glass in a toast to the old man, as he starts to drink. The old man watches him, noticing his terrible condition. Despite how smiley and cheerful he tries to be, he looks exhausted, black under his eyes, barely able to sit straight... He sort of pities the drunk.

"What's up?" says the old man. The drunk looks over at him, and looks back to his glass, sighing and taking another sip.

"My wife," says the drunk, "I think we're straying apart."

"That is awful." says the old man.

"What?" the drunk says, startled.

"No, like, it's actually awful." says the old man. "Why would you think so?"

"I've... been away for too long... you know, work and whatnot." says the drunk, slightly saddened. "Hours become days and days become weeks, she doesn't say a thing, but I can tell she no longer has that energy she'd have when she sees me..."

"That's just marriage, my man." says the old man, "Me and my wife, we've been through shit, but as long as you're still willing to put the effort into it, well, it works out."

"I got this assignment... Moving around the continent, talking to... people." says the drunk.

"Yeah?" says the old man.

"I've been away for five months, now I'm here in Alijone, only miles away from my homeland, and I... I don't want to go home..." says the drunk, slowly lowering his voice, head slightly dropping to his drink. "I fear that one day I'll return and find that she has... left... me..."

"Don't be a downer, my Nexonish friend!" says the old man, patting him on the shoulder, cheerful. "You get home, and get her some flowers, play her some music, know what I mean? Make it a night! She'll forget all about it if you're also doing that, y'know."

The drunk looks at the old man, smiling and slowly gaining hope, head rising. The old man smiles back.

"You think?" says the drunk.

"I don't think, I know." says the old man. "And besides, it's your job... Is your wife really going to despise you for providing and caring for her?"

The drunk lays the beer on the counter and gets up, excited.

"You are right, mate," says the drunk "I owe you one! You're an awful person!"

The drunk bolts towards the exit. The old man laughs and shakes his head, this encounter surely made his day better.

From the same door the drunk leaves, a woman comes in, walking towards the old man. She looks to be almost as old as the man, maybe in her late fourties.

"Jonathan!" she calls. The man looks at her, laughing.

"Mary! Come over here, will ya?" he calls back.

She approaches him, with a wide smile. He takes her in with a big hug, and a slight kiss. He looks into her eyes, his face almost lighting up when seeing her.

"Winnie boy! Two more glasses, will ya?" he calls.

"Right away, sir." He answers, quickly filling and handing them two glasses full of beer. Mary joins him drinking.

"What's with all the bliss?" she asks, looking around.

"Haven't you heard?" says Jonathan, burping and laying his glass on the counter. "Chief's daughter had a newborn."

"Of course I heard, that's all the talk today!" She adds. "But why the bliss?"

"Well, when the chief has new blood, he gives away silver to the folk, and naturally the folk buy ale." remarks Jonathan. He points towards an old, dirty-looking man, laughing louder and madder than every other man. "I'm willing to bet this guy thinks silver only buys ale!"

Mary laughs, pushing Jon's chest and looking away while taking another glug of beer. She looks at two large drunks in the distance, jestily fighting, as one of them dunks the other over a table. The spectating folks cheer them on and laugh. She is slightly worried.

"Is it really all everyone's thinking about?" she asks.

"Pretty much." answers Jonathon, holding Mary closer to him. "You got peace to thank for that."

"I guess we've had our fair share of war." says Mary.

"Yeah." says Jonathan, picking his glass again and taking one more glug, pondering for a long moment, staring into the nothingness, then giving her a slight, jestful smirk. "Kinda miss that shit though."

"You don't miss that shit!" says Mary.

"Only kinda!" adds Jonathan. They both laugh. Mary lays her glass on the counter, smiling to Jonathan.

"Dance?" says Mary.

"Honey I can't even walk properly." says Jonathan.

"Sweetie, I know how good you dance, you can break it without a head on your shoulders!" says Mary.

"Eh ..." Says Jon, thinking for a moment, tilting his head around. "Sure, why the hell not!"

Mary starts laughing, as Jon lays his glass and takes Mary's hand and walks off.

"Sir-" the bartender starts to call.

"Have a drink, Winnie boy! Don't be a square!" calls Jon.

"A... Yes, sir." says the bartender, confused.

Jonathan and Mary start dancing like crazy in the middle of the bar, very cheerfully. Some of the folk in the bar stop to watch in awe. The bartender takes a quick glance at the glass Jonathan had left, hesitant. The large drunk man who was dunked on the table earlier starts cheering them on, still laying upside down on the table. Jonathan and Mary dance in an adept, yet wild manner.

"They're watching!" says Mary, laughing.

"I guess we just dance good!" says Jonathan, as he orchestrates more of these crazy dancing moves with her.

Everyone starts to cheer them on. The bartender joins the cheer, glugging a mug of beer, starting to become drunk himself.

From the window, the light of the sun could be seen darkening very quickly, huge clouds of black mist creep about on the outside, and lots of confused murmuring could be heard.

After a moment, sounds of slashing and screeching could be heard, and the murmuring turns to screaming.

Within the bar, however, the sounds from the outside are overshadowed by the shouting and the bliss, as Jonathan and Mary, who have just finished dancing, stop to take a breath and sit up back in their places on the counter. The folk all clap and enliven while returning to their normal drinking patterns.

"That was wild!" says Mary, laughing and ventilating from exhaustion.

"Oh, yes it was!" says Jonathan, smiling at her.

"I think I'm getting too old for this." adds Mary, shaking her head and calming down, adoringly looking Jon in the eye.

"Bullshit!" laughs Jonathan, looking Mary in the eyes in a romantic manner, as they lock their eyes together for several seconds. "Mary, you never grow old."

Mary smiles at Jonathan. They exchange an intimate kiss before the black mist starts pushing its way through the bar windows. Everyone looks around in confusion, probably too drunk to be alarmed or worried, for a few seconds before the mist starts covering the bar and all that could be seen is Jonathan and the bartender right in front of him.

Jonathan looks around, confused.

"Someone's been eating some weird shit." says Jonathan. "Hey, hey, Winnie boy, give me another mug, will ya?"

"R- burp- right away, sir!" calls the bartender, struggling to find the beer, not sure if the reason being his drunkenness or the mist. "Right-burp- away s- sir!"

Suddenly, sounds of slashing start to rise, like a line of cutting blades, accompanied by strong wind and a strange repetitive 'swish' voice running about. Jonathan looks around. He sees an eerie shadowy figure dashing through the mist for a split second.

"W-" he starts to say, before the bartender pats him on the back. "G- yeah, yeah great, there you are, did you get that ale yet?"

The mist creeps even closer and starts covering their bodies, now all that can be seen is their heads.

"Yes sir, the-" the bartender starts to say before his face turns cold and freezes.

"What?" calls Jonathan, "Where's the ale, Winston?"

Jonathan puts his hand forward, waiting to take his beer from the bartender, but instead of beer, blood starts spilling into his hand, as Winston's head rolls forward and drops onto it.

Jonathan stares at the head in shock. Sounds of screaming start to rise, along with fighting and struggling and a devilishly high-pitched screech.

Jonathan quickly turns, trying to make anything out from the mist. He drops the head in shock.

"Honey?! Honey are you there?!! Mary!" he calls. The bloodshed could be felt all around, and sounds of folk dying and dropping to the floor could be heard. Quickly, Jonathan gets up, but the sheer force of him getting up in an instant gives him a headache, causing him to stop to a halt.

"Shit, I'm drunk." he says. He grabs an empty glass nearby and smashes it on his head. "Much better."

Jonathan gets up again and starts running, calling for Mary, almost three times before he finally receives a response.

"Jon, is that you?" she calls, in despair "Where are you?"

"Mary! Hang on, I'm coming!" he calls back. He runs, trying to track her voice. Suddenly, he is hit by a dashing figure dropping him to the ground. He struggles to get up again.

"Fuck!" he shouts, moving again. Finally, he finds Mary inside the mist and grabs her hand, making a run for the back door.

"Come on, to the back!" He shouts.

Another very close screech could be heard. As they run, a shadowy head pops in front of them from the mist. Its appearance is very unclear, but it looks to be black with fangs and no eyes. Jonathon throws his fist at it, making it disappear from his sight.

Jon and Mary finally reach the back door. They go inside, and Jon quickly locks the door behind them.

"Jon what the fuck is going on?" shouts Mary in utter shock.

"Shh!" whispers Jon, moving closer to her, "I have no idea, be quiet!"

They stay quiet for a moment, filled with fear and shock. Jon looks around, and notices a rough series of knocks on the door.

Mist starts pushing from beneath the door. Jon holds Mary.

"Stay behind me!" says Jon. She stands behind him. They both move back as the mist starts pushing in, until they reach the back of the room. A huge blade is seen leaning on the wall.

Jon quickly takes the blade and unsheathes it, it is a very fine greatsword with an expensive-looking golden handle and with strange relic marks on it, large and wide, its height almost half of Jon's, you could almost see his own reflection on its blade.

"Stay back or I'm gonna butcher your ass!" shouts Jon, waving his blade around, threateningly.

"Sure. do that." calls a slow, gust-like sound from an unidentified source. Jon looks around, trying to identify the source.

Jon starts chanting a deep, monotonic tune. The runes on his blade start flashing in blue. Jon and Mary's eyes both start glowing blue as they start to see through the mist.

A tall man with pale gray skin and reddened eyes and a long, donkey-like snout walks towards them, in full black clothing, an elegant thin robe, almost like a cloak but with extra steps, of weird skin-like material, head pointed slightly downwards giving a menacing stare.

"Using tricks?"

"I'm not going to be the only fair player in this fight." says Jon.

Mary looks away, spotting her own longsword resting on the other wall. She runs to grab the sword.

"Mary! Behind me!" calls Jon.

Mary unsheathes her sword and stands by Jon's side. It is not as big as Jon's, but it is an elegant sword, with a golden handle, looking to be of royal origin.

"I'm fighting with, just like the old days!" says Mary.

"No you're not, you need to stay back-" says Jon.

"I'm fighting with, Jon!" says Mary, facing the tall man in a similar threatening manner to Jon.

"How romantic." says the man. "Die together!"

Sounds of rapid-quick footsteps and swishing could be heard, dashing, as they have already figured. Jon and Mary look around, preparing their swords. Mary starts chanting a rough and fast tune. Her sword starts flashing blue light, as do her eyes. Quickly, she dashes and stabs a dashing creature in the chest, stopping him in his way and killing him.

We can now clearly see the dark, vile creature with a slightly-bent humanoid shape and blade-like claws for hands, fangs and no eyes, as it gives off a dying screech before it evaporates into a sparkly dust-like 'poof' of red mana.

"We're surrounded!" cries Mary, looking around. Three more creatures start to surround them, dashing in circles. The tall man starts exhaling colorful red-and-blue fog, and the creatures start glowing red and dashing faster.

Mary and Jon stick together, back to back, Jon looks around. He starts to concentrate on the window.

"Mary, the window!" shouts Jon.

He takes her hand as they run towards the window. Quickly, Jon opens it and they jump through, landing on the grass and running through the mist, stopping a mere dozen feet away from the bar as their path is blocked by a wall of a dozen larger dashers.

They back off, turning towards the bar, as the entire back wall comes down in an explosion and dashers start emerging from the bar, alongside the slowly-creeping tall man.

Jon starts chanting the same rough tune Mary had chanted, as his blade glows blue. Dashers start dashing towards them.

Jon slashes, splitting one of the dashers in half. Mary beheads another, as they both 'poof' once again. The dashers continue to circle them.

"There's too many!" says Jon. Another dasher comes very close to him before he impales his chest with his sword.

"What do you want?!" calls Mary to the man.

The man quickly sends more dashers towards them, who seemingly appear out of the mist.

Jon beheads another dasher, Mary does so as well.

Surrounded, Jon starts to spin his blade while chanting, almost screaming, a loud, wild tune, causing both the mist and the dashers to be blown away from around them.

The tall man approaches them slowly, red mana emerging from his arms as they start turning into long, black claws, and his legs stretching as he starts to elevate his body from the ground.

"We don't want to cause the folk any harm!" calls Jon, dashing to kill another two dashers with a rough and tactical thrust through their chests.

"Not harm, Jonathan, it is salvation, you are being absolved from the curse of humanity."

The dashers gather in a dozen to circle Jon and Mary in a circle which tightens and becomes even smaller than before. They move so quickly that it is hard to know which is where. Jon and Mary are exasperated.

Mary starts to hum a strange tune of high frequency. Jon looks at her, quickly recognizing it. She looks back at him in confidence.

Jon starts complimenting her tune on the low notes. Slowly, the humming rises into loud chanting. A large field of purple energy starts to emit from their figures, destroying the surrounding dashers on contact.

The earth beneath them starts to crack and a boulder is broken off of the ground, raising them both off the floor as the mist starts to dissipate.

"I think this battle is over, assface!" shouts Jon.

Their swords start emitting ferocious energy. Jon stares angrily at the man. The man looks back, giving off the most stereotypically evil laugh you could hear.

"Indeed it is."

In a split-second, the man moves so quickly it almost feels like he teleports a few feet in front of their boulder, legs extended to match their height off the ground. Roughly, he slaps Jon off the boulder.

"Jon!" cries Mary.

Jon hits the floor, tired.

"God dang it!" cries Jon, angrily

The field of energy dissipates and the boulder drops to the floor along with Mary. She gets up, raising her sword towards the man, who bends his legs and leans downwards to face her. She backs off slowly as he pushes his head closer, his eyes flashing red and his teeth sharpening and changing to fangs. His face gets paler and paler, the mist continues to surround him, dashers appearing everywhere.

"It is over! Look around!"

The mist starts slowly creeping off the village. Jon and Mary look around in utter shock as they watch the folk, all dead, blood staining the grass, roads, and houses, blood of men, women, children... Even animals, from dogs to horses.

"Fight all you want, the Dark Lord always triumphs."

An expression of anger fills Mary's face. She screams, attempting to slash at the man. He blocks the sword with his claw-like hands and smashes it to pieces within his palms.

Not a second after, he extends his left claw into a thorn-like blade and impales her chest.

Her voice turns to a silent crack before she drops to the floor, blood covering her body and spilling on the ground. She is dead.

An expression of outrage and anguish explodes on Jon's face. He stares lifelessly into the man's eyes. The man slowly approaches him, head still bent down, threateningly.

"Perhaps now you can think properly and~"

"Fuck you!" shouts Jon, standing and dashing towards the man, sword forward, ready to impale him.

The man extends his right arm to a whip and grabs Jon from the waist, raising him from the ground. He changes his other hand into a blade.

"I will cut you to little pieces and feed you to the dogs!" shouts Jon, starting to chant an angry tune, but his chanting turns to a terrified scream as the man swings his blade and chops Jon's right leg off.

He tosses Jon in a powerful manner, causing him to hit a tree by the woods and lose consciousness.

"You can join your loved one in the afterlife."

The man walks towards Jon, once again turning his right arm to a thorn-like blade and preparing to stab him.

Out of the woods behind Jon, a large wolf with orange-glowing eyes pounces at the man, knocking him down.

Two more wolves follow, biting and clawing the man. Quickly, he rises and hits the floor with his hands, sending a surge of energy which causes a group of large, black thorn-like roots to break from the floor, impaling the three creatures. They evaporate into a cloud of orange mana.

The man looks back towards the tree where he tossed Jon, only to find that he is gone.