Splinterlands Fantasy Story and Music Contest // Week 23 - Lost Souls

The men kept staring at the strange figure that once again, sat alone at the darkest part of the town’s tavern.

It has been two weeks since the man arrived. Never had he been seen dressed in anything but black, a hood covering his head and most of his face, making it impossible to distinguish any traits, apart from the bright eyes; a blue colour, that stood out from the overall darkness. And every night, he would go to the local tavern, sitting alone and drinking his ale, while discretly looking to the other townsfolk having fun.

After the first days, some of the men at the tavern started to get a little anxious; truth be told, strangers weren’t that common in that part of the splinterlands. Even more, when they kept to themselves, not talking to anyone.

The same group of 4 men that were now staring at the hooded stranger, had tried two days before to get some information from the tavern’s owner, but he gave them the same answer he gave to all the curious: “I don’t know who he is, and I don’t care. As long as he pays his tab and behaves, it’s not my business. And it’s not yours either!”

Nevertheless, a lot more ale had been drank that night. And the group gained the courage to try and get some answers from the misterious traveller. The four slowly aproached the men, and the tallest and strongest was the first to speak.

“I hope you don’t mind us asking, but me and my friends were wondering, what might be your business around these parts?”

All they met was silence.

For a few moments, the men were confused; all of them were fairly built man, and they assumed that anyone would feel intimidated if aproached. But not this man. The stranger sipped his ale, continuing to contemplate the tavern as if they weren’t there.

Alan, the one that spoke, wasn’t having any of that, thow.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, freak!”, He shouted, as his hand banged on the table where the man was seating.

The tavern felt almost silent. The tension was clearly felt in the air.

The stranger sipped his ale again. And without even bothering to look at the man that had just punched the table, he spoke in a calm, deep tone:

“My business is my own. And who I am is not your concern... yet. Pray that it stays that way.”

Alan's face almost bursted with rage.

“Not my concern?? And pray?? Who the hell do you think you are? I demand answers now!” And having said that, his hand flew to the stranger's hood, decided to see the man's face without a cover.

He wasn't fast enough, thow.

The stranger's hand caught his arm in mid air. Alan's eyes widened as the cold hand grapped his wrist. It was a small, delicate hand, but the tight grip seemed to drain all the strenght he had in his arm.

Slowly, the stranger turned his head in his direction. But before he could speak, the tavern owner was upon them.

“I told the lot of you I wasn't having any of this in my house!” And turning to the three other men, continued “Get out, and take Alan with you. Time to sleep that ale off!"

It was clear in the men's faces, especially Alan, that leaving wasn't their intention. But the tavern owner was a well respected man, and the wooden club he had in his hand provided yet another incentive for them to obey. And so, they turned to the exit, not without leaving a threat in the air:

“Our talk isn't over yet, stranger”.

A nod with the head was the only reaction, and nothing more.

Indeed, it's not... and you'll wish it was.

The stranger knew that something like that would eventually happen. It always did, why would it be different in this town? Curiosity was a part of the human nature... al least from what he still remembered from the human nature.

He stayed a little later than usual at the tavern. And when the place was almost emply, he got up as well.

“Beware on the streets, stranger.” He heard the tavern keeper say, as he was leaving the door.

The stranger stopped. And from his pocket, took a gold coin, and tossed it to the tavern owner.

“A thank you for your troubles today. I shall disturb you no more, good man.”

He knew he was the last time he visited the tavern. And off he went, thinking why did he gave the coin away.

Maybe there's still some kindness in me, he thought.

He had already noticed the two men that followed him, trying to go unnoticed, soon after he left the tavern. Not that it was a surprise. He kept his pace, wondering when would the rest of the group show up. He didn't had to wait long.

Entering another street, he was almost halfway when two men appeared on the opposite end. Alan was one of them. He didn't bothered to look back, as it would be a matter of seconds until the other two following him would enter the street as well, blocking his exit; so, he kept his slow, but steady, pace, stopping a few meters from the duo.

“You have some nerve, stranger.” Alan, as usual, was the first to talk. “I told you our talk wasn't over, didn't I?”

The two men stepped forward, as he heard the steps from the two other men entering the street. Now they were all there.

And the stranger started to laugh.

“You did. And I told you to pray that it was. Curious, as I was leaving the tavern, I was thinking if there was still some kindness in me, or if it was all washed away, together with the rest of my humanity. Looking at your filthy faces, I know my answer... there isn't.”

Having said that, he slowly raised his hands, removing his hood.

The look on the men's faces made it clear they weren't expecting the scarred, disformed face, where the blue eyes where shining even brighter.

“What in God's name are you?” One of the men exclaimed, unable to hide the surprise.

“Gods have no place here, villager... only death.”

The four men were still standing on the same place when the banshee summoned by the stranger materialized. The scream that followed echoed through the whole street, leaving them twisting in pain. But it wasn't nothing compared to the scream that left Alan's lungs, as the dark mage raised his arm and touched the man's chest, and he felt all his energy leaving his body.

“You were so curious to know who I am, I'll grant you that last wish. My name is Jarlax... petty human.”

And your soul will be mine, now.

As all of them will.

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