The flames engulfed and scorched everything they touched trickling across rooftops as each ember danced from one structure to the next. Each house was an inferno filled with screams of victims as more shouts filled the streets. Men, women, children, screamed and cried as clashing of blades rang and soldiers shouted and yelled. A once peaceful village was now to be consumed by the engulfing torrents of war. This conflict, a blood soaked fued that spanned over two years between the Low Lands and Illisea Kingdom in the High Lands was one of political interest would see this once hamlet as a mere steppingstone.

  “Get the women and children out!” one human man screamed as he rushed toward the burning homes down the main street of the village, carrying an iron long sword in hand. He was in a plain tan knitted shirt and brown trousers. Another human man with black hair yelled back in agreement as he went to urge some of the survivors onward out of the village. An explosion from one of the nearby shops went off to the man’s left, he ducked behind a toppled carriage that was long without its owner and pack animal that pulled it. A red haired elf woman was flung from the blast, and she landed on the dirt road, face down.

  “Master!” a rough, masculine voice called out. The man noticed another figure laying on the road as well, their flesh twisted, and bones poked through the shoulders. It twitched unnaturally but it was slow in moving.

  “A revenant,” the man muttered while the owner of the rough voice rushed into view. A black furred kobold in a white kamishimo with slashes of green and gold down it and the fur atop his head pulled into a topknot to keep his eyes unobstructed and a katana in hand. He readied himself, feet apart and blade raised with both hands on the hilt. The human, shuttered, That’s one of the sellswords with the Illiseans to wipe us out. His thoughts raced.

  The woman in the dirt raised her head enough, her pointed ears indicated she was an elf. “Gunnolf,” she said, her bottom lip covered in blood. “Use my tachi; use the Kazesuki-zhuken. A basic katana will have no effect on an Accursed Revenant.” Not even five steps from the elf woman stood straight in the road, a bluish green long, curved blade with a black and golden hilt.

  The revenant contorted its body on the ground as it stumbled getting to its feet. Its voice was raspy and gurgled, “That blade shall not stop the Chosen Savior from his resurrection!”

  Swiftly, the black furred young man darted for the blade and retrieved it with ease.

  “The Illisean’s destroyed our village to hunt an undead?!” the man said aloud scrubbing his hand through his short red hair. “How dare these bastards!”

  The revenant lunged at the kobold named Gunnolf who raised the blade to clash with the boney, disfigured claw. The monster roared at the quiet yet composed furry man that stood in his way ready to swipe with his other hand, the kobold darted right, out of reach of the creature’s left arm. The blade met the revenant’s side, and it wailed in agony.

  “You will die!” cursed the revenant and as Gunnolf gained distance away from the undead creature, it plunged it’s twisted claws into the ground and metallic black blades shot up from the dirt, nearing shin high on the tall kobold, six blades in all spaced apart by two inches as they glided toward the kobold like a letter opener looking for paper. Gunnolf again dashed toward the adversary as he leaped over the deadly blades, but the revenant raised an arm just in time to brace for the curved blade aimed for his face. The right arm of the creature fell off and thrashed on the ground before flame burned it from within and it turned into ash.

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  The revenant’s twisted face looked shocked as it backed up. “Now, Gunnolf, finish it!” the elf woman yelled.

  Gunnolf leaned back with the blade aimed for the creature’s midsection. He darted forward and the revenant with his left hand conjured two black tendrils to wrap across the sword and the blade began turning as black as night. The revenant came in close and gave Gunnolf a knee to the gut, the wind was knocked from is body as he flew to his backside nearly twenty feet away. The tachi slid across the dirt road landing before the elf woman.

  “Eclipse the Sacred Blade of the Moon, life spilled brings about the Chosen Savior. Bask in the Glory, Bask in the Filth, Bathe in the Rot, the land shall be his,” the revenant chanted. The man hiding behind the cart saw the undead man boast foolishly as he saw the elf woman finally stand. Her white with stripes of green with gold laced kimono and skirt were ripped as she reached inside one of her three pouches and grabbed a healing gel to apply it to her right leg.

  “Now, rotting filth, you deal with me,” she acquired the blade as she ran toward the undead foe. The revenant opened its mouth as a dark blast of energy shot outward at the elf, she narrowly was brushed on the cheek by the dark aether but as she drew in that long blade sunk into the chest of the revenant, its hand gripped the blade. The edge of the sword shimmered a silver color as it released an unholy scream and its bones began falling away and the decayed flesh melted.

  Panting heavily once the undead abomination was utterly destroyed, the elf fell to one knee. Her hand met her face and she was horrified. The red-haired man that was in hiding watched, Now is the time to strike, if I’m going to do it. He walked into the open, his belly in knots but he pressed onward, getting behind the elf ronin who never moved an inch nor seemed to notice he was there, he held his iron sword firmly in his hands.

  “If you plan to strike me down, villager of Osinara, I suggest you do it, soon,” the woman spoke.

  “I am Bendrick Atellis, a simple farmer here in Osinara, and you bastards invaded and attacked our village! We have nothing to do with this stupid war between Illisea and the Low Lands. Why?” the man screamed for answers.

  “My apprentice and I mean you no harm, we only wield our blades against the undead and those who stand against with them or dare to fight against us. I have never struck down an innocent unless they raised weapons to me first,” this time she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were almost perfect jades, and her expression was serene calmness, but a black spot was growing on her cheek where that dark energy grazed her, her skin was otherwise flawless milky white.

  “You helped the Illiseans kill our townsfolk and murder so many! For that you will die sellsword!” Bendrick raised his sword. Suddenly, he felt a slash on his back, followed by another, and another. His backside was warm and his chest felt cold despite the racing of his heart. A tear trickled from his eye as he thought of his beloved wife and young son who escaped the village almost an hour ago now.

  “You shall not harm my master,” the voice of the kobold was heard from behind him as he fell lifeless to the ground, his eyes like glass looking at nothing.

  “Gunnolf,” the red-haired elf woman said.

  The kobold looked at her and his face, full of panic despite his efforts in trying to keep calm. “Have you a tonic, Master Irina?”

  Irina shook her head, “Listen to me Gunnolf, my precious pupil.” Her eyes sheened and flickered with the flames of the buildings; the shouts of other men were distant. Gunnolf knelt down and after a brief exchange of words he accepted the tachi. Its blade was turning bluish green with a dark hue.

  Shouts of the Illisean Soldiers came from down the street now as Gunnolf stood over his master, blade piercing through her collar bone.

  “Traitor!” one of the soldiers called out. The kobold’s teeth flashed like a rabid hound as tears swelled in his eyes with blinding rage.