The tavern smelled of stale ale, damp wool, and smoke that had soaked into the wooden beams over decades. Lantern light flickered against rough wooden walls while a tired bard in the corner strummed a slow, melancholic tune on his lute. Most of the patrons barely listened. They were more interested in their drinks and the quiet comfort of being indoors while the cold night wind rattled the shutters outside. Travelers filled most of the tables—merchants, hunters, a few mercenaries. No one stayed on the roads longer than they had to these days. Not with demons wandering the forests. At the bar sat alone cloaked figure. His hood was pulled low, hiding most of his face beneath shadow. The cloak hung over shoulders that seemed too large for the stool he sat on, and thick leather bracers wrapped around his forearms. Even sitting down, he looked massive.
The bartender, a gruff dwarf with a braided beard threaded with metal rings, slid a mug across the counter toward him without asking what he wanted. "You're early tonight," the dwarf muttered while wiping down another glass. The cloaked figure did not answer, just drank his ale. The dwarf grunted softly and walked away.
Everyone in the tavern knew the silent traveler. He came through every few weeks, sometimes a little longer, sometimes sooner. He always paid in coin, drank quietly, and left before dawn. No one knew his name, and no one asked too many questions. People who carried themselves the way he did were usually men with pasts best left alone. Beneath the hood, the traveler stared into the dark foam of his ale. another night. Another tavern. Another place where no one remembers your name, perfect.
The evening was Then the tavern door burst open. Freezing wind rushed inside, blowing out a few of the candles near the entrance. A young human, woman staggered through the doorway. Her armor was dented and scratched, streaked with mud and blood. Dirt smeared across her face, and one hand pressed tightly against her side where crimson soaked through her leather armor between her fingers, she leaned against the doorframe, breathing hard as her eyes searched the room. "Please," she rasped, her voice hoarse from exhaustion. "Anyone… I need help." Several patrons glanced up but quickly looked away not trusting her.
The woman stumbled forward another step. "There's a demon in the eastern woods," she said. "It's been attacking travelers by the forest road, my brother... "A few men shifted uncomfortably in their seats. considering but No one volunteered, the word demon had a way of killing conversation. "My brother is still out there," she continued, her voice shaking now. "It dragged him into the forest."
Blood dripped slowly from her fingers onto the wooden floor. A loud chuckle broke the silence. In the corner of the room sat a massive figure draped in a heavy bearskin cloak. Several empty barrels rested beside him, and the smell of strong ale surrounded his table.
He pushed himself upright with obvious effort, swaying slightly as he lifted a mug. "A demon, huh?" he said in a rough, amused voice." the room turned toward him. "The trick, with those rat's" he continued, lifting both hands and miming grabbing something by the horns, "is you grab 'em right here…" He gave an exaggerated yank. "…and pull until their head until it goes pop." He clapped his hands together loudly as the tavern burst into laughter. The woman didn't laugh. Her eyes locked onto the drunken giant in the corner. She staggered toward him, one hand still clutching her bleeding side.
"You…" she coughed, spitting a little blood onto the floorboards. "You've fought demons before?" The dwarf bartender snorted. "Do not bother him, girl. He is drunk." "I don't care if he's drunk."
Her voice cracked with desperation as she reached him. She dropped to her knees in front of his chair. "Please," she said softly. "My brother is still out there. If someone does not go now, he will die." The tavern slowly grew quiet again even though the bard stopped playing. "I'll pay," the woman whispered, pulling a small coin purse from her belt with trembling fingers. "Everything I have."
The large man finished the rest of his drink before responding, then he stood up the chair creaked loudly as his full height unfolded upward. He was enormous. Easily seven feet tall, with a powerful, athletic frame built from years of brutal combat. His cloak slid from his shoulders as he rose, revealing a body covered in old scars that crossed his chest and arms like faded maps of past battles. The woman's eyes widened as the hood slipped back from his head. This was no ordinary orc. His skin was dark red, scattered with black speckles across his shoulders and arms. Long black dreadlocks fell down his back, and his eyes burned a deep maroon in the lanternlight. It is an Orakai. rare subspecies of orc with ancient elven blood in their lineage. Far Stronger, Faster, Smarter, an orc and almost extinct.
Due to them not bred for war anymore. The man looked down at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he shrugged. "Fine," he said. His voice was deep and steady despite the alcohol. He gestured lazily toward the rest of the tavern. "Just pick up the next round for everyone here and we're good." The woman nodded immediately. "Yes. Of course! "She looked to the bartender. "Whatever everyone's drinking… it's on me!" A cheer erupted through the tavern as he wandered over and grabbed his cloak and swayed slightly as he stepped toward the door "Come on, Names Bjorn, by the way." he muttered Outside, the night air was cold and sharp. The woman limped ahead of him down the dirt road leading toward the forest. "It's about two miles in, I'm bell" she said quickly. "My brother cade and I were gathering herbs when it—"
"I don't care what you were doing," Bjorn interrupted. "Just take me to the demon, less time we spend on speaking. The likelier, the chance he's alive." The woman flinched slightly but kept walking. The village lights faded behind them as the forest swallowed the road. Twisted branches stretched overhead, and thick roots tangled across the ground. Somewhere deeper in the woods an owl hooted softly. Eventually the woman slowed and pointed ahead. "There." a small clearing opened between the trees. Moonlight filtered through the branches, illuminating the scene below. A massive demon crouched over a motionless body. The woman gasped. "My brother."
The demon sniffed the air, then it went still Slowly, it turned. Its black eyes locked onto Bjorn. Recognition flickered across its face A cruel smile spread across its jagged teeth. "Well," the creature rumbled, its voice like grinding stone. "The fallen champion I wondered when you'd crawl out of hiding." The woman looked between the demon and the orc with confusion. Bjorn cracked his neck slowly. he muttered. "Huh… wow, You're a lot smaller than him. Here I thought this would be a fun challenge."
The demon snarled. "I'm going to enjoy killing you." It lunged forward with terrifying speed; claws aimed straight for Bjorn's throat. Bjorn moved once. His hand shot out and caught the demon by the throat before it could reach him. The creature's feet lifted off the ground as Bjorn held it in the air by the horns. Bjorn then slammed it backward into a boulder, the stone shattered beneath the impact. Fragments exploded across the clearing as the demon's body crumpled into the broken rock. It gasped for breath, black blood dripping from its mouth. "Impossible, it wheezed. "You were… drunk… and… weak."
Bjorn flexed his fingers slightly. "Was. The adrenaline I experienced a moment ago. had burned the alcohol away the moment the fight started Too bad in the end, this wasn't much of a challenge. Oh well Let us end this quickly, shall we?" He grabbed the demon again and lifted it over his shoulders. With a single brutal motion, he bent it backward across his knee. A sharp crack echoed through the clearing as the demon's spine snapped.
The creature screamed, then went limp. Bjorn dropped the body into the dirt walking around the crippled demon body his hands wrapping around its horns and a scream and a wet pop echoes threw the night, behind him, the woman whispered in awe.
"By the gods…"
After recovering from the shock. Of watching the one-sided massacre. She rushed to her brother and shook his shoulder until he groaned weakly and opened his eyes. By the time she looked back toward Bjorn… He was already gone Leaving behind most of his. Spare medical supplies as well. The forest swallowed the sound of his footsteps as he disappeared deeper into the darkness. Away from the gratitude he did not want to hear.
Another fight. Another demon. Another night.
The woman stared into the trees. "Who was he?" she whispered. Her brother coughed as he struggled to sit up. "I don't know," he said slowly. "But those scars… that size…" He hesitated. "Do you think it was him? I mean. He looks almost identical to how mom used to say. Those bedtime stories of those great warriors from the arena's."
She shook her head. "No." Her voice was quiet.
"He was just a legend. Those old fights and arenas, have turned into nothing but the demon's execution pit's there are no more, hero's or legends anymore…"