Prologue


    A black figure hid in the shadows watching his prey. Two hulking Giantfolk and three humans, the small band had made a simple but deadly mistake, capturing the daughter of a high lord in the kingdom of Amal. They had asked a ransom from the lord for the safe return of his child. This aristocrat was a corrupt man, but he paid the high price that came with hiring a Deathcaster all the same. The black figure scoffed as he watched the paltry fortifications the bandits had hastily thrown together. They were preparing for a battalion to attack, not a lone wizard. This would be an easy bounty.


    The warrior stepped out of the shadows and into the light of the torches surrounding the camp, his black armor in sharp contrast to the bright yellowish light on the log walls. “I highly recommend you do not make any sudden moves. After all there is a chance you survive this encounter.” The group of men quickly jerked their heads around to stare at the intimidating figure. Eyes growing wide at the terrifying sight of his full armament in the light. He could see each one glance over him. Eyeing the vicious spear he leaned on casually, the blade was longer than most to allow slashes as well as thrusts, more a swordspear than anything. The haft made of a red wood only found in the deepest depth of the no mans land. He saw their faces sour as they looked upon the Dire Bear cloak cascading from his neck and pauldrons, as fitting cloak for his helmet, which formed into the shape of a bear head, mouth gaping and teeth sharp as a dagger. Following the cloak down until their eyes settled on the ornate black handguard of his rapier. Finally, he watched them shift nervously in their seats as they laid eyes on the black, studded leather armor which bore depictions of the reaper and the wild hunt encircled by symmetrical looping knots. An armor to allow the most mobility and still provide moderate protection. Though his body was not large like the giantfolk oaf, he didn’t need to be. Speed and precision has always been more deadly than brute force on the battlefield. “Well, I see you’ve had enough time to take in my appearance. Perhaps this will persuade you to listen to reason.'''' The man in black paused with a slight smirk on his face, as the torch light danced across his helmet and face it seemed more ominous than friendly. “Give me the girl, and you all live. It’s that simple.”


    One of the giantfolk snickered, “why should we? You are outnumbered five to one! Unless you’re ferrying an army up that arrogant arse of yours, we will take our chances in a fight.” his voice was low, and had a rumble to it. He stood and readied himself, drawing a dull butchers cleaver and shortsword, well short for his stature. The lone warrior noted this bandit stood 7 foot tall if not more.


    “Aye. we will take our chances.” one of the humans chimed in in a high pitch, hyena like voice. He as well drew his weapons. This time two hatchets.


    “Suit yourself gentleman, but may I just ask you to cover the girls eyes first? I would hate for her to witness the barbarism about to unfold here. If there’s one thing I hate, it''s kidnappers, people who would use children to extort others.” the girl was whimpering in the corner of the shabbily made camp, tied to a stake. Her dress was torn in multiple places and covered in mud, though he didn’t see any blood which was a boon.


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    One of the other humans lunged from his flank, a poor attempt at a surprise attack. He had noted each enemy''s movements from the start. A spear to his left, longsword to his right which was currently charging towards him, and finally an archer making his way up the scaffolding twenty five yards to his rear. “So you choose death.” his face turned grim, it was a statement not a question. As quick as a polecat he launched his spear into the longsword wielder, spun around while dropping to a knee, sending a small pebble which was instantly surrounded by fire rocketing towards the archer who was just drawing his bow, and puncturing through instantly killing the man. With one final swift motion he drew the slim rapier, sidestepped the paltry thrust of a spear and plunged it deep into his prey. “And now I am only outnumbered two to one.” a scowl grew upon his brow as he stalked toward the last two bandits.


    Unlike the others these two seemed fairly competent with arms, the giantfolk struck first. Cleaver and shortsword slicing through the air in unison. The man in black parrying the mighty attack, sidestepped and with a quick riposte buried his rapier into his foes thick, muscular neck. A precision strike, severing artery and windpipe. This would typically be enough to take down a man, however the giantfolk tended to be more resilient than a normal man. He was certain the brute would die, however currently it only provoked him.


    The counterattack was swift and carried power behind each swing, the weapons creating a sort of scissor while they swung through the air, then a spin, both weapons having a different window for impact to throw the defender off on his block. Never a smart move to turn your back to an enemy, the thug''s extended reach gave him an advantage not easily circumnavigated.


    All the wild, yet calculated swings were met with a block or a dodge. And all were meant to be a distraction so the shrill human man could slink in. as if on queue two hatchets entered the fray, cutting at the newcomers legs and torso. Carefully the warrior backed up, sidestepping and dodging, causing each swing to miss. Trying to trick his enemy into a false sense of security. One attacker with two weapons was simple enough to handle with his rapier but two… not so much. He guided them back towards where the first attacker fell, spear impaled in his torso. Lunging backwards, he ripped the spear from the fallen giantfolks chest cavity. Now he could take the offensive.


    He swung the spear around in a flurry slashes all met with the loud clang of metal striking metal. He followed up with a quick succession of thrusts, two of them finding purchase in the shrill man. And finally, a haft strike upward into the jaw of the remaining giantfolk, knocking him off balance, another thrust driving home into his chest as his legs were sweeped out with a kick and he landed hard spear tip impaled into the ground. It was over in only a matter of seconds.


    “You should have listened, fools.” He said walking casually towards the shrill man who now crawled in the dirt to get away. A futile attempt as moments later the rapier pierced his neck, and lay on the ground dead.


    “Lady Shaya. I am Sir Tristran, brigadier general of the Deathcasters, your father hired me to rescue you.” his voice had changed from apathetic and intimidating to a soft polite tone. “My sincere apologies for the horrors you just witnessed.” Tristan walked towards the girl, his black, leather armor making him a shadow in the torchlight and reached out his hand to help the girl to her feet.