A stranger strides alone through the silent town. Silent and dark entirely, except for a bustling bar. News of a foreigner has made its way through the region, he calls himself Ronin, and he’s from the East. He claims to be traveling the world, in search of techniques to refine his understanding of the art of battle. Refining his beer breath the cloaked stranger thinks to himself with a malevolent smirk as he approaches the tavern. That’s the stranger’s mission.
A hopeless drunk, as inferred from his stench, winks awake at his resting place against the tavern stables and a pool of vomit.
“A sorry one, you are?” the cloaked man says as he pulls back his hood revealing a glowing red eye embedded under a scarred brow.
His hair is jet black and spiked forward, his skin pale. He smiles as if showing impish fangs.
The drunk pays no mind to his intimidating and mysterious demeanor, “Oh-hic, don’ min’ me, usually not one tuh ferget me limits. What’yah gon’ do, doh, when a real hero troddles in buyin’ all teh ale-hic.” He slurs his words. The drunk attempts to stand, but quickly gets distracted by the drool he wipes from his chin, “Ronin be tellin’ stories of his venture, most interestin’ tings I ‘eard all year. Go on an’ ‘ave a listen, ye won’ regret-hic. I won’ be joinin’, doh, teh barmistruss gabe me teh boot, after I ‘ad too much.”
The stranger turns away in disgust. Good, might as well be drunk when you die. He steps towards the door and kicks it open, hoping to draw eyes. The bustling tavern, filled to capacity, goes quiet quickly.
One man, however, in armor of eastern origin, sitting next to a sword taller than himself, continues his speech without noticing, “And then with Ryoshi, my specially crafted odachi, I took the fire dragon stance. Sweat dripped from my brow, but I knew I would win. I raised my sword and let it fall against the charging troll. It couldn’t withstand the blow and was burned to-”,
“Ahem!”, the stranger interrupted.
Ronin’s brow seemed to twitch with annoyance, “Have some respect, I’m telling a story! Anyways, as I was saying-”.
He turns back to the crowd, but the stranger interrupts again, “Ronin, I’ve come for your head!”
He throws off his cloak revealing black skin-tight clothing, covered neck-to-toes in chains. He unsheathes the two blades from his sides, “By the Black King’s decree, I, Jaskir, will kill you!”
He lunges at Ronin with bloodlust, but he quickly grabs the giant sword and swings it at Jaskir, despite still being in its sheath. Jaskir crosses his blades to block the swing successfully, but gets propelled back by the force. Ronin takes an angry look at the bold assassin, grabs his horned helmet off the table, drinks the last of his mug, as what seems to be an underling of him unsheathes the massive sword, revealing a black blade. He takes a powerful stance, sword held out in front of him.
“Now, why would you want to do that? This blade has felled many beasts bigger than you, shrimp!” He jeers. “The Black King? I thought he was locked away.”
The room grew tense as people began whispering.
One of the patrons stepped to Ronin, “The Black King escaped. Nobody knows how, but he did. He sent out a message that he was rebuilding his army and that he needed generals. He said that anyone who brings him the head of a warrior of great renown may take a place by his side as one of his generals.”
Ronin grits his teeth, “So that’s how it is, huh? Well, news for you, chains, this warrior is quite attached to his head!” He rushes forward, sword above his head, a warcry ringing throughout the bar.
The two opponents connect as Ronin’s sword is held back by Jaskir’s blades. Ronin gets a closer look at his opponent’s weapons. They have no hilts and have a ring instead of a pommel. Ryoshi gets deflected to the side as Jaskir stabs at his target but is deftly deflected as well, Ronin moving his giant sword with utmost dexterity. They both disengage, Jaskir with a flying jump back, Ronin with one big step. He’s quicker than he looks. Unlucky for him, quick is kind of my forte Jaskir thinks to himself.
Ronin takes a deep breath and alters his stance ever so slightly, the angle of his blade turning about fifteen degrees to his right. He pulls his blade back, preparing for a slash, but Jaskir notices something in his eyes; an intense fiery focus, as if a controlled inferno hid behind his gaze. This can't be good, he thinks. He lunges forward with a step and drops his blade at Jaskir. The tip of Ryoshi sparks a small flame before quickly growing into an explosive flame. Jaskir jumps backwards through the door of the establishment before the attack destroys most of the front wall, anyways. He could almost believe he saw the face of a dragon within the fire.
Ronin steps through the cloud of debris, "Ryoshi was forged by a dragon, to slay dragons. It is able to hold the power of the powerful ancient beasts. It has been in my family for a thousand years. I am the rightful wielder of this blade, as I am the first member of my clan in five hundred years to master all four of the dragon techniques. This is your last chance to turn away, brigand, lest you feel the fury of all my ancestors and the destructive power of the dragons."
Ronin holds his blade perpendicular to himself and drags his thumb across the ancient black blade, revealing what seems to be gems holding within fire, water, stone, and a whirlwind.
Jaskir smiles like he just can't help it. He stands up straight and detaches two hooks connected to the chains on his body which he hooks onto the pommel rings of his swords.
"Ronin" he starts, "we're just getting started."
He throws his swords away from his body, grabs the chains and swings the swords around him, creating a spinning barrier of metal before letting them settle to the ground. Ronin does not flinch at the display, but watches his opponent intently. Mere seconds stretch into an eternity as they wait to see who makes the first move.
Jaskir is the one to act, his blades flailing behind him as he rushes forward. Ronin brings his sword up to catch his charge, but his challenger digs his foot into the ground, jumping backwards, the two chained blades whipping past him, keeping the momentum. They surround each side of Ronin. Before they wrap, the swordsman points Ryoshi towards his right foot and slices up with immense force, sending a pillar of dust into the air, along with Jaskir’s chains.
As Jaskir stops in his tracks, Ronin pierces the cloud of dirt, slicing horizontally. This sends a wave crashing through the air emitting from the blade's edge. Jaskir leaps up with only a hair's width before being hit. The assassin still suspended mid-air, Ronin swiftly pulls his sword over his right shoulder and digs the tip, hardly, into the dirt behind him before swinging it directly overhead and down, causing a huge stone pillar to shoot from the ground and curve into Jaskir, sending him barreling away. He flips in the air and skids along the ground on his feet before collapsing to his knees.
Don’t let your guard down, J. And don’t give him a moment’s relief. Jaskir leaps forward as soon as he regains composure. Ronin attempts to catch him with another horizontal wave. Jaskir performs an aerial, whipping his blades like a saw. Ronin shoots another gust of wind into his airborne assailant, but he’s prepared this time. Jaskir uses the force of the wind to halt his spinning and, before touching the ground, thrusts a blade at Ronin. Ronin attempts to deflect the projectile but it wraps around his blade. Not permitting himself to be disarmed, he holds fast as Jaskir pulls on the chain, grappling himself head first at Ronin, grabbing the handle of his other blade. Ronin turns his edge up and jerks it, directing Jaskir’s momentum upwards, pivots the opposite direction, and brings it down firmly, flame bursting from the tip. Jaskir’s chain snaps and he’s flung through the air, preventing him from beind crushed by a falling inferno. The flames create a singed circle on the ground, separating them.
He’s quick with that big sword, and he’s much stronger than I am. He knows that, as well. He reconnects the broken chain to his body at a closer link. Time to use the eye while he still has his confidence. Here goes! Jaskir bursts ahead, engaging with his body low to the ground. Ronin prevents his approach with several successive pillars of stone from the ground that Jaskir grapples around with his chains, swinging like a monkey in the jungle. He uses this to gain velocity and spirals at Ronin with immense speed, blades curling around his body. Ronin looks at this missile of a man in his red eyes as he begins a slash from his right, what seems to be seafoam forming at the edge.
Now!
Petrification pierces the defender, Jaskir’s scarred eye shooting what feels like a red bolt of lightning. Hesitation becomes Ronin but for a second as he hardly deflects Jaskir’s stab from his vitals, his blade cutting across his right shoulder. Jaskir flies past. Ronin spins around, clutching his shoulder. Jaskir smirks and takes a bestial stance.
“That’s an interesting trick you have up your sleeve. I’m sure most people don’t catch on until it’s too late. You’ve got good timing, kid.” Ronin admits. “I was going to give you a chance to leave, however,” Ronin begins, clutching Ryoshi with both hands, choosing to forget his injury.
A horrible grimace becomes the swordsman’s face as he deftly alternates between the four previously shown styles in a sort of sword dance. The ground begins to shake more with each swing, dark clouds form overhead, wind whips, rain falls, thunder sounds.
“I cannot allow one like you to roam these lands, or any, ever again!” The ground cracks with his shouting declaration. Lightning strikes the ground with a final swing. Jaskir rushes him immediately, for hesitation would mean his death.
Each swing from Ronin begets elemental fury, Jaskir being pushed to his limits. Lightning from above, quaking from below, lightning strikes again, wind pummels him, a river attacks his side, all of which are near misses. There’s a pattern! Watch his swings. Don’t take your eyes off of him. As Jaskir gets close, he petrifies with his eye once more, but Ronin creates a flash of fire that turns the rain in front of him into hot mist. Jaskir launches his blade through the mist. The ground opens beneath. He drops the launched chain and circles around Ronin through the fog. Before he realizes the first attack was a decoy, Jaskir arrives at his back. He spins around lightning striking his blade as he goes for the kill.
Red. Blood splatters the ground. Both blades have been wetted. The rumble of the storm fades. The mist clears. Ronin sees Ryoshi cutting into the red-eyed assassin’s arm, the chain being held against it with his left hand over his right shoulder. He chokes and looks down at the blade going through his heart. Jaskir pulls his blade out, blood pooling out of the fatal blow. Ronin's eyes roll back into his head and he collapses. Jaskir stands victorious. The crowd stands in awe and fear, staring at the remnants of a tragic murder.
Across the land of Creinohra, in the capital of Ecarderise, soon after the battle, a messenger confronts a throne-sitting man,
“Frenrick, your majesty, I-I have terrible news.” he stammers as he kneels. The king releases his bearded chin from his hand, sits up straight, and nods grimly,
“Go on.”
The messenger shifts uncomfortably in his prostrated position, “Ronin, a foreign warrior holding much glory, has been killed in one of our towns. His assassin made a terrible spectacle, declaring himself Jaskir. In the name of the Black King, he has taken his head. We’ve already set a bounty on him.”
King Frenrick stands from his throne and commands the messenger, “A terrible war is upon us, good courier. Gather my generals, including the elders that wage war no longer. Send a message to the entirety of Creinohra, every corner, every town, every forest, and every hermit’s solitary shed; King Frenrick of House Rose pleads for the help of every able-bodied citizen. Every youngster with a blade and every veteran that still has his limbs are called to arms. This is the next age. From the Second Age of Prosperity, we relinquish the wheel of time to the Second Age of Black. Send scouts to every corner of the continent, reinforce every region with every guard we have. Don’t leave a single crack for the scum to slip through. These will be hard times, but take this as a good omen; Your king believes, with every bit of his heart, that our nation will persist through all evil. Through an age of darkness, we will triumph and erect a wall of good and justice. Creinohra! Unite!”
Aftershocks of these events are felt throughout the nation, and beyond. Citizens are fearful, but hopeful. Warriors are determined. The forces of evil cackle in the shadows. A lord in armor black as the deepest pit sits upon his throne of bones sits in impatient anticipation for the terrors to come.
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