“We are closing, you need to leave. Did you hear! Move yourself, you trash!” The barkeep kicked the chair legs out from the silent slumping form of the patron, whose body crashed to the floor. The last patrons were leaving the establishment, some with lingering interest laughed and scoffed at the unsightly drunk.

“Hnnnn…” The customer groaned indistinctly as the barkeep dug his hands through long dripping dark locks to catch the undersides of the arms. He painstakingly dragged the equivalent of dead weight towards the exit. As he shifted towards the door, the person’s head tilted back to reveal a woman’s face, soaked in alcohol and saliva. Her features were marred by streaks of her midnight black hair that stuck stubbornly to her tanned flesh. She was wearing a simple tunic, filled out by an average build for a woman. Yet the barkeep cursed her for refuse and rubbage as he grunted in the exertion of moving her. Despite her typical form, she was not light in any sense. Her lips parted slightly and she mumbled something towards him.

“One more...and keep it coming...” The barkeep groaned and rolled his eyes with exasperation. Finally he reached the door, heaved them open and summarily deposited the woman into the dirt and mud in the street.

“Good riddance! And kindly don’t return again anytime soon! What a waste of a young woman!” He was shaking his head sadly as he spoke, closing the doors of the bar with a quick firm snap. The crack of the doors jarred the woman into semi-consciousness. She rolled herself onto her buttocks and sat silent, head tilted downward. The night sky shrouded all within the vicinity of the tavern but within the blackness footfall sounded just next to the tavern wall.

“Oh look Ger, someone didn’t make it home, what a shame. After that treatment inside, perhaps she needs our help [laughter] What’s your name lass?” A man’s voice spoke as two men stepped next to the slumped woman. One moved his hands through her hair roughly and gripped it tightly, jerked her head back. “Didn’t you hear me?” He spoke into her ear. Her head tilted upward slowly, her eyes glazed in the pale moonlight. After a few moments she spoke.

“I don’t talk to Charr dung…like you, or…otherwise consort with males with manhood rivaling that of a gnats.” The man’s face flushed as the other laughed hysterically. Reaching back he struck her down to the dirt and shouted angrily.

“You should choose better words, drunken wench! I’ll make you regret it. Now just sit there while…” His words were cut off at a rather odd sound emitted from his body. The brute stood there for a moment, while his partner stopped laughing. The woman’s leg was extended from her place on the ground even as she lay on her front and had shot outward, solidly connecting with the nether regions of her aggressor. He tilted backwards and fell to the earth, curled into himself, gagging. His partner stood in shock for a moment and then raised a leg and drove it into the side of the girl crashing her roughly over to connect with the tavern wooden patio supports. As she moved her head slowly towards her second assailant, he made to deliver a blow towards her midriffs. Her arm went down to deflect the kick, which was marginally successful. The hit caught her across the shoulder and she tumbled backwards.

As the man moved in for another blow, the heat of combat was swelling within the woman. She struck out at the wooden planks upon the porch, and shattered two in twain. The attacker hesitated as she reached towards the wrecked panels and wrenched one free. Rising slowly to her feet, wavering in balance, she spat blood unceremoniously upon the street. Her head was slumped forward slightly and her eyes drooped. The man charged at her yelling furiously, and was met with the brunt of a wooden board to the side of the head. As he reeled, she reversed her grip upon the board and this time drove it home to the solar plexus expunging the breath from his body. As he wretched, she brought his arm up and around and swatted the jagged plank across the twisted shoulder joint. It shifted under the blow with a disturbing ‘pop’ in which the man screamed out in pain. As he writhed on the ground, she drove a casual boot into his guts as she moved to face them both.

“Fortiscan brothers. You are now under custody of the local magistrate, in regards to the particular bumbling theft of a large sum of gold from the local merchant stores. If you will accompany me…” Leaning down, the woman grasped an arm of each of the men (including the dislocated one), who protested painfully as she dragged them casually and with surprising ease across the road.

*********

“You could have done this any other way you know, without the embarrassing scene in the tavern.” The official frowned as the woman washed the soil and ale from her face and blood from her mouth in the washbasin. She turned back with face dripping and extended an open hand towards the man. He placed a small leather pouch into the slender palm. Without a word she tucked and tied the pouch beneath her belt and reaching upward secured her damp hair back into a single black fountain that spilled down her neck and back. The official watched as she stepped from the local courthouse and cell holding. As her lithe form strode off into the shadows, she whistled a charming little tune about the drunken master and his wily mistress.

“Keryn Wolfkin. You never change.” He spoke shaking his head sadly.

As she made to strip her small pack off, she felt something strange occurring. Her heart and mind were burning as if in warning. There was nothing about her, yet she knew something was amiss. Her hand drifted to her potent artefact at her hip. The blade felt cool from the near winter air, but how quickly she could warm it upon the bodies of her enemies. She slid her fingers around the haft and waited.

The ground suddenly began to tremble and heave with great force. Keryn struggled to keep her feet, calling upon every ounce of training to fight the forces that had awakened around her.

“What is this sorcery!?” She shouted out, shifting her footing again and again. At last the ground gave way next to her revealing an opening in the depths. She sprung back from the rend in the earth, as the clattering of a thousand swords echoed in her ears. Chattering and howling emitted from the gap, and all at once, countless minions vomited from the chasm. They were misshaped and bent in the most grotesque ways. Yet they were agile and swift and came upon her. Keryn suppressed her initial fears as her mighty half moon mauler, Yonin, sang from his resting place. The stalwart women began to lay into the deranged beasts, with an all out assault. One by one they fell screaming beneath her blade of terror, but they continued to swell from the deep chasm. A deep fury and power welled within her veins, and with a throaty bellow she summoned forth from that source. She danced from foe to foe, spilling their ichor upon the ground and embracing the fountains of the same as it sprayed across her skin. Her mind was settled into a kind of trance, where she would maintain control, all emotion and rational thought pushed beneath her fury. Still, she was but one against countless hordes and they inevitably pushed her back. Her tactic was flawed against such hopeless odds, and the axe was hardly a defensive weapon. Several of the demons grasped her weapon arm as she cleaved through four of them, clawing and biting, but she held fast with nought but a grimace. Others latched their dagger like claws upon her feet and held her fast to the ground. With a roar that echoed in the valley, she struck out with all the intensity she had and drove her fist clear through one of them, and then sank beneath the unending wave of foes. Their weight was near impossible to bear, their claws and teeth slashing her skin and tearing muscle. Squeezing her eyes shut, Keryn prepared to give way to her purposeless life when all became still. She took several moments to realize that they were gone, and that she lay crouched upon the ground. Opening her eyes, she was alone again. Gone were the countless hordes, the spilt blood, the chasm. All of it, but the one figure who stood before her. The personage stood towering over her, well over the height of two men. A burning and runic etched helm covered a darkened face from where she could make no clear features. A long flowing robe of red and black spilled over the ground. Then the memories of a visit to a temple in her youth came flooding back. An avatar of Balthazar. A gauntleted hand slid from the robes with the palm up and arm extended. Shakily, the disciple of war obeyed the gesture and struggling to her feet, stood before the imposing figure.

“Keryn Wolfkin. You have spent long years in a fruitless quest to find meaning for your existence. It is in war and bloodshed that we find our true selves, yet you remain lost because you have failed to learn one lesson. All wars cannot be won alone.”

Keryn bristled at the rebuke from the war god. She was still shaking from her near encounter with death, despite it being a waking dream. What was real was her inability to win the fight, and her submission to their power. All the emotion and adrenaline with her overcame any sense of piety and she screamed out at the towering avatar.

“I don’t need anyone! I will not rely on others! All I can trust is my blade and my own strength. If those give way to greater foes than I deserve death! I defy your council!”

“FOOLISH WOMAN!” the voice was terrifying and caused the earth to shake once more. Her heart failed her as the power of the god washed over her comparatively frail form. Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the ground, clutching Yonin and the dead grass beneath for strength. “You dare defy me! Where is your strength now? Behold, cast your eyes upon your precious foundation and embrace your fate." Keryn shifted her trembling gaze slowly to her hand which held her weapon tightly. A silvery clasp was secured tightly about her wrist wherewith a mystical chain of hefty gold links connected to the base of her weapon. As she gazed in astonishment at the bonds the voice spoke again with great intensity. “You shall never be without the blade, nor it without you. The weapon has been blessed and cursed for your sake. Terrible power is now writhing within that blade, for every foe you have felled, their spirits shall reside within, finding no rest. You shall find no rest as long as you wield it. That is the punishment for your mockery of the War God.”

Crying out in despair, Keryn pounded the ground in fury. The clasp squeezed her wrist tightly, as she felt the wrath of all the demons she had slain in her dream clawing at her mind. The voice was suddenly quiet and solemn in her ears.

“You may find peace, my lost daughter. Aid those of the Covenant now in their day of need. Prove to me that you can learn what I have tried to teach you. Upon that day, your burdens will be lifted.” Keryn, looked upward, but the imposing form was gone. Her mind caught hold upon the final words.

“Covenant? Where...” She began. The wind whispered a final message from her master.

“It lies before you daughter…”

Keryn stared down into the valley with glistening grey eyes.