In the Northern Mountains of Galasia, the Southern part of the kingdom, there resided a merchant town. A good number of merchants were stationed here to sell some of their commodities. The town also served as an occasional rest place for travelers, a place to unwind and release any pent up tension they had, be it through a good bottle of ale which can be gotten from the various taverns stationed in the lil town or other 'recreational' means.....
Nestled at the crooked end of a fog-filled alley, stands The Withered Fang- a tavern known for its wild drinks and even wilder patrons. And on this day particularly, the tavern was filled with the wildest of them all; A familiar group of lycans who were celebrating a raid they had initiated earlier that week in a little town in the eastern part of the kingdom. The were all chugging down liquor and flashing their barely clean fangs in drunken laughter as they reminisced their wonderful haul. Their drunken loud laughter as well as their intoxicated antics were enough to discourage any other people from visiting the tavern. But the owner was paid enough money not to care and frankly the claws on the lycans were sharp enough for him not to argue.
The tavern mostly consisted of lycans who had either already passed out or were too loopy to know where they were, but there was still hooded man who was sat at the counter of the bar sipping some Royal Red , a dark red wine usually kept for the more richer folk, in a barely clean glass. His hood barely showed his face from below his nose, raising an air of mystery around him. The only thing visible, his lips, were a thin and unreadable line, withered and chapped by the cold northern mountain winds. And at the corner of his lower lip was a faint scar, that never quite healed well, a proof he'd survived something most did not. In that rowdy storm of drunken lycans, he was the only quiet fella who did nothing but focus on his drink. The bartender had served him that one glass of wine the entire night, which he was nursing and took pint sized drinks occasionally. And that seemed to enrage one of the lycans who approached him, a half filled bottle of ale in hand.
"Hey.....asshole....don't you think you've hogged that counter for long enough. You've been stuck on that one glass this entire time. It's worse enough that you are drinking wine, a woman's drink, " The lycan said breathing down its vile, disgusting alcohol soaked breath at the figure.
But the figure simply continued to stare down at its drink, not even glancing at the drunk fool beside him. The lycan, not being one to take being ignored, slammed his hand on counter ."I am talking to you asshole!" he yelled in a drunken rage catching the attention of the other lycans.
Their boss, a fairly lager lycan who was sat right in the tavern's corner with a dozen empty bottles at his table, turned his attention to the commotion. "Oiii.....Jontar what's going on there?" he asked as he glanced over them, his eyes barely open from being drunk.
"Nothing boss just helping a friend over here finish he's drink." Jontar responded with a grin as he picked up the glass of wine and poured it's contents right over the figure's head, drenching his cloak in the process, before placing the glass right back in front of the figure.
"Now aren't you such a sweetheart helping out the poor guy," Gravik said in a hearty drunken laugh as he looked at the scene. Jontar looked back at his boss and joined him in laughter. "You know me sir, always ready to lend a helping ha...." Jontar went silent as the sound and smell of sizzling meat hit him as well as a great incomparable pain hit him in the chest. He looked down and saw a singular hand burnt right through him and out his chest cavity as he heard a cold voice behind him, " I wasn't done with my drink,". The hand was yanked out and Jontar's body fell down with a foul thud onto the greasy tavern floor.....he's half filled glass of ale still in hand.
Everything happened so fast, it took everyone in the tavern a solid second to realize what had happened. Gravik was the first one to stand up in utter rage as he went sober instantly. "Jontar!!!!!" he yelled in genuine melancholy as he stared at his comrade's deceased body, smoke still emanating from the killing blow he received. He's rage-filled, blood-red eyes then turned to the perpetrator who was still sat as if nothing had happened. "You'll fucking pay for that!" Gravik bellowed. And as if to join their boss in his rage, the other lycans drew their weapons and rushed towards the hooded figure.
The lycan closest to the hooded man raised his sword in readiness to smite him as he still sat at the counter, but in the blink of an eye, the hooded figure grabbed the empty wine glass in front of him and shoved it right through the lycan's eye, as glass mixed with flesh . The lycan howled in pain as he staggered back disoriented before receiving a kick square in the chest that sent him flying across the tavern and into a brick wall. The other lycans were marveled at this show of speed and strength performed by a single individual who seemed to not even be trying no less, but they had the number's advantage, it was a 20 vs 1. They would....no they must make this fool pay for messing with ,the Mauling Marauders.
They all fixed their eyes back at the target as they now rushed at him all together, with the urge of vengeance for their fallen brothers. But the figure simply stood there as if to welcome their attack.
The first two lycans raised their weapons to hit him but the figure simply closed in and with his hands coated in flames he burnt his hand right through both their chests delivering to them the same fate as Johntar's. Immediately just as he was retrieving his hands from the two lycan's chest cavity, another lycan had jumped up in the air looking to strike the figure while still occupied but just as his sword was a hair strand away from him, he sidestepped right beside it and just before the lycan could register he had missed, his head was forced right onto the edge o his own sword, busting his own head into two.
Two other lycan's rushed in but this time with their swords in more defensive stance, having learnt from their former comrades. But the hooded figure simply pointed his fingers in a gun-like fashion and two small highly compressed fireballs formed right at the tip of his fingers as he muttered a silent, "Bang!",
The fireballs shot out in a loud boom and burnt through their heads, leaving nothing but a perfectly burnt circular hole in between their eyes. The 'fire bullets' went a step further and delivered the same fate to other lycans who were unfortunate enough to be standing behind the first two.
Gravik seeing this amazing display of fire magic control decided to step in before anymore of his men could be killed, as he came in from the side with his claymore in hand, ready to slice the guy in half. With the fire user still being occupied by the other lycans, Gravik was able to land a solid hit to the man's side. He grinned in delight but the grin fell just as fast as he noticed he did nothing but push the fire user a few steps back. The sword didn't tear right through the man as Gravik expected since the man in question had a somewhat aura of thin flames around him that acted as a shield. This came as a shock to Gravik as he stood there dumbfounded, his sword still in his hands, which set him up perfectly for the powerful right hook that he received right across his jaw.
The attack pushed Gravik back as he wasted no time to reach his hand to his jaw just to confirm it was still in place. Gravik then felt something swirl inside his mouth, he spat it out and on the ground fell his gold tooth. It had cost him a fortune and there it lay covered in spit and pints of blood. To add insult to injury, the fire user reached out his hand and gave Gravik the notion that he was welcome to try again. Gravik now fully enraged let out a fierce howl as a mysterious blue hue enveloped his body.
Predator's rage, a skill activated by creatures of the night in times of immense rage granting them a significant increase in strength and durability.
Gravik with his new found strength lunged towards his enemy with his dagger like claws drown out looking to avenge his allies. He slashed erratically with no care of precision, and the fire user dodged the attacks effortlessly even being able to hit solid hits to Gravik's mid section, but Gravik's increased durability was reducing much of the damage.
Gravik finally realizing attacking pointlessly wasn't helping decided to reach out and grab the man but the fire user saw the desperate move early and locked hands with the large lycan. It was now a test of strength as Gravik put in all his strength to win but the guy didn't budge and actually looked up at Gravik and through the shadow of the man's cowl he saw a slight grin, right before, he started being dragged back, he tried to push back but it was pointless as he was finally pinned to the tavern wall and received a head butt to his snout which hurt like hell.
The fire user then pulled back and looked at the lycan in disgust. "Let's see if your stupid boon can help you against this," the man said as his fists started turning red before igniting completely in a hellish blaze. The man in that instant at a speed untraceable by the normal human eye delivered blows to Gravik's chest. Each punch felt like and hit like a cannonball to Gravik and they even left burn marks on his skin even with his increased durability. The flurry of fists would resume to go on till Gravik's ribcage had completely collapsed on itself and his midsection was nothing but numerous patches of sizzling skin and burnt fur.
The fire user stopped eventually and got closer to Gravik and placed a palm on his barely heaving chest. "Pathetic," he whispered to the lycan and where his hand was in contact with Gravik"s chest, a red magical sigil appeared with mystical runes written. The sigil remained on Gravik's chest even as the fire user walked away and once he was a reasonable distance away, he muttered a silent, "Ignite,"
The Sigil started to glow uncontrollably as it finally burst out in a huge explosion that took Gravik and the tavern wall along with it.
Behind the Tavern counter lay the last remaining lycan, Jemoth. He had been hiding from the moment Jontar had fallen dead and was hoping he would come out once he's comrades dealt with the strange man. But that proved unlikely as they were all slain in mere minutes. This mysterious flame user had proved to powerful for them as he even took down Gravik, even with he's trump card. He now just wanted to hopefully sneak out of here before that monster could notice him, he'd hopefully run to somewhere quiet and start a new life....maybe....be a farmer. The bandit life was never for him from the start, he was just going with the flow. He's true passion was growing crops and hopefully with the black armor ,he had snugged from the boy back at that village, an armor he still had on, he could sell it for a good sack of gold.
But first he had to get out of here and his ticket out just so happened to appear as the explosion that took Gravik caused a huge enough hole in the wall for Jemoth to escape from. The flame user was busy with the last bunch of lycans a perfect window for him to run. And just as he was prepping to take off, he looked to his said and so he's friend, brother, the only person who made staying in the Mauling Marauders actually worthwhile. He's eyes rolled over and the hole still in his chest. Jontar even as stupid as he was sometimes Jemoth couldn't deny he was a person he actually cared for. They joined the group at almost the same time and have been helping each other ever since and here he was dead right in front of him.
Suddenly running away just didn't seem right for Jemoth, after everything, that would be a low even he couldn't reach. As his memories together with Jontar flooded his mind, he reached for his dagger and looked at the fire user, just as he was choking out the last lycan. "I shall avenge you brother," Jemoth said quietly as a tear rolled down his face.
The fire user had just put down the last lousy mutt and let out a slight sigh. The reason he was even in this cursed den of bastards was because he sensed some ethereal energy coming from here. Energy he had sensed before in only one person. Energy that was creeping behind him at that moment. He simply pointed his hand towards that direction and shot a fire bullet right at the fool who was trying to sneak on him. Unfortunately or fortunately for Jemoth, the shot simply ricocheted off the armor and only pushed him back. The man clicked in utter nuisance as he had the clank sound. Jemoth seeing he was still alive wasted no time to go in for another attack. "I almost forgot how strong that asshole's equipment was," The man said to himself before shooting off Jemoth's knee caps with fire bullets forcing the poor lycan to come to a painful kneeling stop right in front of him.
Despair imprinted itself on Jemoth's face as he lost all feeling of his legs right under the knees. The pain was excruciating and was made even worse as the guy he was planning to attack put his foot right on Jemoth's shoulder which in turn pushed him even further down on the knee wounds that were busted right open due to the latter attack. This caused Jemoth to groan in pain as the man leaned even closer. "Where'd you get that armor?" The man asked in a serious tone. A tone that portrayed he was impatient and really REALLY wanted a straight answer.
But Jemoth stayed quiet and simply stared at his interrogator with hateful eyes. The man sighed before grabbing Jemoth's head with both his hands. And just as he had done Gravik his hands started getting red hot as he slowly started to burn Jemoth's sides. Jemoth was in unbelievable pain that caused him to howl in pain. The fur on the sides of his head was completely burnt off and now it was his skin that was being burnt off. "I asked a damn question! Where did you get it?!" The heat in his hands would increase with every raised intonation as he asked the question.
The only saving grace for Jemoth were his tears that where doing the minute non-existent job of cooling off his burns. But he wouldn't budge and would simply steel himself and simply grit his teeth. The man was growing impatient and placed a hand on the lycan's throat and activated a spell:
Tongues of fire, a cursed flame that demands truth from a victims soul that takes his voice with it.
Runes appeared on Jemoth's throat and glowed a sickish glow as the man let go of his throat. "Now one last time, where did you get that armor from?" once the man's question left his mouth, the runes on Jamoth's throat glowed even brighter as an ominous power took over Jemoth's will to speek and disclosed the information. "THE ARMOR WAS RETRIEVED FROM A VILLAGE IN THE EAST OF THE KINGDOM'S BORDER IN A SMALL ISLAND," The voice that spoke wasn't Jamoth's and instead it was deep raspy distorted voice that seemed to speak in tandum with the glow of the runes. And once the voice was done, Jemoth instantly coughed up blood as the runes disappeared as well. "See now was that so hard?" The man asked Jemoth as he leaned closer. Jemoth wanted to insult this asshole but in that instant he realized he couldn't. Every attempt at speaking was met with a severe burning to his throat.
"Don't bother, your voice is as good as gone. Normally I'd kill you right now but I'm in a good mood today plus you helped me find what I've been seeking for so long.....even though it took some....encouragement. So i'll show you some mercy," The man said with a sly grin as he pulled down his cowl and stared his dark red eyes at Jamoth. Eyes that resembled ember from a dragon's breath.
"Now, I'm off little puppy. Hope you find peace in life," The man said as he patted the lycan's head as a show of disrespect before leaveing the tavern. People were crowded in front of the tavern, as the earlier explosion had caught their attention. They were still debuting on whether to enter as our flame user stepped out. All eyes landed on him, but he didn't care and simply walked through them. But midway he started laughing maniacally as he recalled what he just said and looked back, "Mercy?HAHAHAHAH!!!!! My flames know no MERCY!.........." He grinned and in a silent tone he said, "Ignite"
Inside the tavern, Jamoth was still on his knees, still trying to process everything that happened as he looked at all his dead comrades. A sigil on his head suddenly appeared just where the man had patted him before leaving. The sigil burnt brighter than ever before finally exploding taking Jamoth, the tavern and what was now the former Mauling Maurauders.