Daemon King - Trouble in Kurz   Snicker pushed his way wearily past the crowded doorway of the Broken Jug Pub. He cursed softly to himself when he saw that it was just as crowded on the inside. He was almost about to leave when Roger, owner of the Jug, spied his short friend and motioned towards an open space at the bar. Snicker moved through the crowd, ducking more than once as an inebriated patron swung an arm carelessly about. He managed to claim a stool, and seated himself with a sigh. The noise within the tavern was at full volume this night, and the roar of the open fire could barely be heard over the drunken singing and boasting that was commonplace in such establishments.   Roger grabbed a tankard from under the bar and filled it from a tapped barrel, before placing it in front of Snicker. "There you go lad, you look as if you could use it." Snicker took a deep drink and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic. "Thank you, my friend. I felt the need of company this night, and it seems I have found just the place for it." "Aye lad, there is trouble in the fields to the east. Kurz has been busier than normal." Snicker gave his friend a concerned look. "Trouble? I have heard little in Leinster." Roger scowled briefly. "It doesn’t surprise me. They think they are far enough away to be immune to any trouble that plagues us here. But they will learn otherwise if Kurz is ever overrun." Snicker didn’t argue the point. "What is this trouble you speak of?" "No-one knows for sure. Or no-one has lived to provide us with anything but rumours. But there is a new evil in the Fields." Snicker knew little of the Killing Fields to the east. But he knew enough to know that its name was a well deserved one. There was evil already there. The creatures there had many names, but daemon was the common word for them. It was said they were so fearsome, they could make even the most hardened warrior run in fright. But the people of Kurz had lived with this threat ever since the town had been founded. They had managed to overcome their fear, and ventured willingly into the Killing Fields. And they had fought the darkest creatures ever spawned in the Realm. Snicker was no coward, but even he blanched at the though of anything that might put fear into the hearts of these people. Looking around, Snicker was suddenly aware of the tension and false bravado that pervaded the crowded tavern. The overly loud voices, which he had initially put down to too much ale, now seemed obvious. These people were frightened. "How many have disappeared?" "Not disappeared," Roger said, his voice grim. "Killed. Seven bodies have been found. No-one else is missing as far as we know. And those that died knew how to handle a blade. It would take more than a daemon to kill them. There is something out there. Something new. Something more powerful than anything we have seen before. Frankly, lad, I’m terrified." Snicker could see the truth of his friends words in the look he gave him. He truly was scared, and that was something Snicker had never thought he would see in this man’s eyes. Roger was not a small man, nor a weak one. He proudly bore the scars of many fierce battles against man and daemon alike. He had been a mighty warrior in his day, and even now was more than a match for most. Snicker couldn’t even contemplate the opponent that would frighten this man so badly. Snicker was a long way into his third mug of ale, when the noise in the tavern suddenly ceased. The fire continued to crackle, but even that sounded soft, as if it felt the mood change and didn’t want to attract attention to itself. Snicker looked at the silent faces of the people around him. They no longer smiled or joked, but stared grimly at the open doorway of the tavern. A tall man stood there, his arms around a middle-aged woman who had obviously been crying. Even now, Snicker could hear her sobbing softly. Seeing that no-one else was going to speak, Roger moved towards the newcomers and spoke to the woman. "What has happened, Magda?" The woman raised her tear-streaked face and looked despairingly at the barkeep. "It is my Thomas, he’s gone. I found a note by his bed. He’s gone off into the Fields. Some foolhardy dare with his friends. I fear he will not return. The evil will get him...I know it." Her sobbing gave way to tears, as Roger led her over to a table and sat her down. The man with her remained silent, but never left her side. Roger gathered the people around him, and organised them into four groups. "We must find the boy. If we stay together we should be safe enough. The Fields are big, but we can cover a quarter each." Without a word the people began to file out of the tavern. They may have felt fear, but they also protected their own. And they would do what they must. Even if it meant death. Snicker could see it in their eyes. When the last of them had left the tavern, Snicker rose to his feet and followed after them. Roger, who had disappeared for a moment to find his sword, placed a hand on Snicker’s shoulder. Snicker stopped, and eyed his friend. "I can help," he said simply. "Nay, lad. I don’t doubt your courage, but the Fields have claimed many a brave warrior such as yourself. You don’t know the fields like we do. It would mean your death were you to enter them." Snicker shook his head. "I will come with you anyway. I will be careful." Roger nodded, his face solemn. "Very well. You can join my group, but stay close by at all times." Snicker didn’t answer, but followed him out into the street where a group from the tavern waited, with torches burning brightly in their hands. Without a word, Roger led them east, towards the Killing Fields. Page 1 of 3 Return to Index Next Page   This page hosted by Get your own Free Home Page