A Fortuitous Encounter

The rain had been falling since the morning prior, a thin, ceaseless drizzle that blurred the horizon and made the world feel sudden. The wanderer trudged steadily onward through the sodden pinewood. His cloak heavy with water despite its oil coat. In one hand, a lantern held forward to guide his path. The other hand rested on the hilt of his blade that was worn on his side. He continued North, always north. It was still in the dead of night that he came upon a ruined chapel said to mark the border of the shadowlands, where once an ancient kingdom thrived, now only darkness, despair, and demons could be found.

The road was overgrown, swallowed by years of in-use. An ominous mist hung low on the ground, curling around the tree trunks like pale fingers, swirling as he passed. Tazlyn's eyes flicked side to side, vigilant and alert.

They came upon him in the dead of the night. From the trees they spilled out, decayed corpses animated by fell magics. They attacked in silence save for their shambling, and the rattle of their rusted chain armor. A dozen ghouls, teeth bared and claws outstretched. Had it not been for the glow radiating out of his scabbard they might have caught him unawares.

Tazlyn faced them without fear drawing his blade as it shone brightly in the night doing away with the lantern and adopting a simple mid-guard.

Effortlessly he parried the first claw strike, the riposte cleaving the ghouls head from its neck in a blur. He stepped back a fraction as another swipe passed harmlessly before him.

The battle was over in only a few moments, conducted without flourish nor candor. The last ghoul fell as Tazlyn's blade split it from pelvis to neck in a reverse strike. The ghouls were clumsy, but oddly co-ordinated. Something had led them. Something too cowardly to reveal itself.

The swordsman's eyes glowed faintly as he channeled mana into them, the darkness of the night already at war with the brightness of his blade was banished completely, the forest emerging into a flood of colours and fine detail. There hidden only two dozen meters away a hunched blackened form of a demon, clutching a stump of an arm with its gruesome claw. One of its wings was bend unnaturally, and an ooze dripping from a now empty eye-socket. This evil creature once a thing of nightmares seemed almost pitiful. Or might to another.

Tazlyn dashed towards it in a blur, with a speed no normal man could be capable of. It screeched in fear as it sensed its inevitable doom.

The clash was monstrous—holy steel against infernal claw. Form against fury. The calm and precision of a master swordsman against the pure hatred and emotion of the demon.

The beast fought with unholy strength, each blow enough to shatter stone but Tazlyn too fought with an unnatural strength, made all the greater by the blade he grasped and the keenest of his strikes.

"You fight well" the creature rasped. Its voice like iron dragged against stone. "For a mortal"

Tazlyn didn't answer, his strikes continuing unabated and his defence unwavering.

The demon grinned. "Will you not speak before you die?"

Silence still, as the two exchanged blows. Tazlyn landed a few light strikes against the demons thigh, its stump limb creating a weakspot it simply could not mitigate against.

"You are nothing!" it screeched, swinging down with its claw whilst its tail wrapped around its side to strike.

Tazlyn did not falter, he stepped in-not around nor away. Inside the arc of the downward blow, the tip of his sword flicking upward to cut straight through the profane beasts wrist letting the demons claw fly free.

As he did he spun slightly to the side letting the barbed tail pass by him.

It howled with an intensity that rattled the mind, but Talyzns steel gaze remained unphased. Fire burst from its mouth in a stream.

But Tazlyn did not stop, he struck low-hamstring. The demon's form falling to the side as it lost balance. High-throat. As the infernal creature tried one last time to seek its vengeance the holy blade sliced up cleaving cleaning through the throat and jaw, straight through the skull.

For a moment the forest was silent again save for the pitter-patter of the dull rain.

Tazlyn stood over the steaming corpse, breath steady. The demons blood on his blade sizzling into nothingness.

Without a word, he returned his blade to his scabbard and the lantern to his hand. He turned north.

But ahead stood an undead creature, flanked on each side by a horde of spirits.

"I knew one got away" Calisto said, his voice hollow each word rasped like dry parchment tearing.

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Pub: 05 May 2025 04:31 UTC

Edit: 05 May 2025 05:16 UTC

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