Crack!

The crack of the whip left a bloody streak against the dire wolf's back. Drops of blood stained the walls of the inn deep red. A stocky man standing at the door frowned at the bloody mess. Taric wiped the blood that splattered on his face. He grimaced at the annoying mess his client had caused and began to walk over.

"Walter, for the last goddamn time, stop playing around!" Taric yelled.

The brown-haired fatty, seemingly lost in his own world, took a second to register the sentence. Only after giving the chained wolf one last kick did the fatty turn around. Then, with a sleazy smile on his face, the fatty swaggered over to Taric. His fat rolls jiggled and began to sweat as even crossing the room was a workout for him.

"Sorry, sorry, you know it's just that I never get the chance to do this, so I went a bit overboard." the fatty replied with his hands raised.

The dried-out blood-stained room hinted otherwise. But the mercenary couldn't be bothered to correct the pompous fatty. Instead, Taric gestured towards the pile of cages sitting to the left of the room.

"We leave Snakepoint in an hour, so get your merchandise ready, or we'll leave you behind."

"Yes, yes, of course," he spoke with obvious sarcasm.

Taric's faced twitch, but he said nothing more as he left the room. He kept his anger restrained as he walked to his room to prepare. Entering his room, he double-checked his belongings to make sure none of the thieves fished their grubby hands through his stuff. He sighed as he sat down by the window, getting a good view of the village Snakepoint.

Snakepoint was a unique place among the frontier. Unlike other frontier villages, there were no farms, smiths, or citizens. Only ramshackle huts and shady shops dotted the village. The village, in essence, was a trading hub for bandit groups and gangs. Illegal goods like drugs, slaves, and weaponry flowed through here like a river. Despite openly being a nest of criminal activity, the village had never faced any retribution. Thanks to fatty merchants like Walter, who paid a pretty penny to the officials. The officials treated the place like it didn't exist.

Merchants would always need a hidden avenue for illegal goods, and Snakepoint was the perfect place hidden deep in the southern woods. Anything could happen in this hell town, and no one would have a clue.

Outside the window, thugs and thieves wandered the streets. Further down, Taric could even see someone getting kidnapped. In this godforsaken place, anything could happen, and no one would even bat an eye. It was an unsaid rule that you "Mind your own business" if you wanted to leave Snakepoint alive.

That's why even though a bloody man was running down a street screaming, he only got a cursory glance. Taric could only press out a sigh as he watched the bloodied man die of exhaustion as he fell on the street. Even as a mercenary who had done his fair share of evils, Snakepoint still sickened him.

'I pray that someone burns this place to the ground someday.'

Little did he know his wish would come true.

"Boss!" a lanky man screamed as he walked in.

"What is it?" Taric asked.

"Seems like a turf war is happening at the Vulture Crew's turf. The Wolves and Silversword crew seemed to be involved as well." the man reported.

Taric frowned; just as they were about to leave, of course, there would be a turf war.

"Tell Walter to pack up his crap. We leave in 10."

The man nodded and left to prepare. Taric quickly grabbed his gear and suited up. He felt a strange sense of dread as he picked up his crossword. He shook off the feeling and focused on the job. But, unbeknownst to him, the holy mother etched onto his sword cracked as he left.

***

Due to competition over Snakepoint's market, conflicts between thieves and gangs were bound to happen. Most of the time, gang leaders limited these conflicts to small-scale assassinations or skirmishes. Those who resided in Snakepoint had a tactic understanding that war was only a final resort. Leaders were reluctant to start one because, more often or not, war meant mutual destruction. That's why Taric was quite surprised that 3 of the major gangs had suddenly started one.

Taric frowned as he heard the cries of battle in the distance. Although it wasn't his business, something about the situation felt off. He would've sent someone to investigate, but his only scout and ranger seemingly disappeared into thin air. Unfortunately, he couldn't worry about that any longer as a fatty strut up to him.

"I see you're having a fun time daydreaming, mister team leader," Walter said, not even trying to hide his displeasure. The fat merchant had a rag in his hand, wiping the sweat dripping from his fat rolls. His huffing and puffing made it seem like he had just run a marathon. When in reality, the group had barely even walked half a kilometer. The two stood in front of a carriage station filled to the brim with workers loading up goods onto carriages. Cages filled with a myriad of different beasts, monsters, and slaves were hastily loaded up.

"It's not my fault you didn't reserve carriages in advance. We wouldn't have to walk here at all if you didn't waste our time with your sick games." Taric replied with indifference.

Walter snorted and walked back to the carriage station to oversee his goods. Taric spat out in disgust as he looked at the merchant's back. He'd leave that piece of trash behind in a heartbeat normally, but the fee for the job was simply too high. Even though he felt the situation was strange, he could only bear with it until Walter packed up all his goods.

Sighing, all he could do was walk over to his team. 5 men and 1 woman stood in a circle, all wearing sleek and tough leather armor. The mercenary team gave out a sharp presence, and they reeked of blood. His mercenary team was a team of elites he nearly went broke hiring. Yet, with their skills, he was confident he could deal with anything.

Noticing his dark expression, the only woman from the team yelled out.

"You worry too much, boss! The gangs know their limits. If they harm Walter, the merchants from Willowtown will flip out and put'em down real quick."

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Taric nodded even though he didn't really believe so.

"I hope you're right, Betty. But, even so, keep your guards up; there could still be some desperate fools who'll try to take advantage of this to make some coin."

Before Betty could reply, countless roars filled the air. The beasts and monsters screeched and roared nonstop. Everyone looked towards the cages, flabbergasted at the sudden occurrence. Workers tried to calm the monsters and beasts down but to no avail. Frightened beyond belief, the beasts and monsters clawed, ripped, and chomped their cages with all their might. Fear seemed to overtake them as they battered their cages with no care for injury.

However, their fervor quickly died out and transformed into quiet whimpers. The rabid monsters and beasts became as tame as a bunny.

With no time to comprehend the situation, screams filled the air again. This time Taric could no longer hear beasts or monsters, only terrified human screams.

"Ske...Skeletons!"

"Ack!!"

"Ach!"

A sea of skeletons rapidly flooded down the streets. Terrified thieves were running for their lives, dashing straight towards the station. Frozen with fear, everybody could only stare at the oncoming tide of undead. When the first thief finally passed, people finally broke out of their trance.

"Run!!"

Chaos ensued throngs of workers pushed and rushed their ways out of the station. Carriages and cages were tipped over in a panic. Surprisingly leading the escape, a fatty was running at unthinkable speeds. Running as fast as his fat could take him, Walter didn't dare look back. He nearly rolled down the street as he beelined towards the inn.

Only when he reached the sanctum of the inn did he dare peek backward. What he saw terrified him. An endless wave of skeletons flooded the station in the distance. Those not fast enough to escape could only despair as they drowned under a sea of bone. Walter paled at the sight but didn't linger long. Rapidly making his way to his room, he muttered curses nonstop.

"Those wretched mercenaries, I've paid them all this money, and now they're nowhere in sight!" Walter said, completely ignoring the fact he abandoned them first. "Whatever, they could go to hell! The scroll...yes, as long I get the scroll, I can escape!"

Rapidly pushing his way back into his room, he opened the door and saw a figure fishing through his stuff. Walter nearly bellowed out in rage at the sight. Luckily he noticed the rotting flesh and poisonous claws before he shot himself in the foot. Frightened, he tried to slink back silently.

However, he paused at the sight of a piece of papyrus in the undead's hand.

'The Scroll!'

His slight pause caused the floorboards to creak under his weight. The ghoul turned around in a flash towards the sound. Then, with no chance to even scream, a pair of claws flashed in front of his face.

Splat!

Blood drenched the carpet as an arm fell to the floor. It wasn't the pudgy arm of a merchant but rather an arm rotten to the bone.

"Taric! Oh maganamoious paladin Taric!" Walter said, half weeping as he saw the paladin in front of him. Taric didn't say anything, only frowning at the black blood burning on his sword. He looked towards the ghoul who he slashed. Even rotten black, he recognized the face of his scout.

"Screeee!" the ghoul roared and charged the paladin head-on. The paladin merely shook his head and sighed at the shell of his former comrade. Whispering a prayer, white flames began to appear on his sword. The ghoul froze and stared at the holy flames with fear. Without a second thought, the ghoul fled, dashing towards the window. The paladin snorted and thrust his sword towards its back.

Fwoosh

A phantom sword of flames shot out and stabbed into the ghoul's back.

"AGHAGGHH!" the ghoul cried out. Even as it stumbled out the window and jumped into puddles, it didn't stop. The fire spread like a plague consuming its upper body in seconds. Its fate seemed sealed as its body began to crumble.

"Let's go!"

"Yes, yes, of course, milord!" Walter replied.

'Of course, the second your own escape route gets cut off. You become an obedient dog.'

The paladin frowned at the merchant's double-faced nature but didn't say anything. Taric ignored Walter as he spouted flatteries non-stop as they headed down the stairs. Entering the dining hall, they saw a group of 5 standing on top of a pile of corpses.

"Let's go! We're making a break for this fool's enchanted carriage. As long we get in, we can escape." Taric yelled out. The mercenaries nodded and drew their weapons. With Taric's order, the group quickly formed up and headed to the back of the inn. Two stocky men holding a sword led the way and slashed any skeletons wandering the halls. It took little effort for them to reach the backyard. Strangely the grounds behind the inn were untouched from the undead devastation.

Sitting at the edge of the yard, a silver carriage glittered in the dark. Unable to control himself, Walter sprinted towards the carriage like it was heaven.

"Wait!" Taric called out one step too late. Seemingly out of thin air, a pair of claws appeared from the shadows and slit the merchant's throat.

"Ambush!" Betty yelled. Skeletons leaped from the roof, and zombies poured out of the shadows. They seemed to have stirred the hornet's nest because dozens of undead seem to crawl out of every corner. A familiar-looking ghoul was chomping on Walter's head.

Taric was shocked to see Ted still standing, yet he couldn't dwell on the thought as a horde of skeletons charged him. Pulling out his sword in a flash, he cleaved the skeletons in a single slash. Whatever came in contact with his blade disintegrated into ash. The undead actually doubled back in fear from the sword.

Utilizing the pause in their ambush, Taric prepared his group for battle.

"Everyone cover Betty while she prepares spells!"

Without missing a beat, the team of mercenaries surrounded Betty as she began to chant. Her seemingly normal wooden staff began to crackle with purple energy. Sensing something wrong, the ghoul screeched and ordered the horde to attack.

Once more, a wave of bones and rotten flesh bounded towards the group, unlike last time though their charge didn't go unchallenged. A wall of shimmering force appeared between the two groups just as they were about to meet. Squelching and crunching sounds filled the air as zombies and skeletons crashed into the barrier at full speed. Even with the barrier in the way, the horde didn't falter. Instead, they eagerly smashed everything they had at the barrier to reach the meal waiting for them.

Seeing the barrier hold strong, Taric nodded his head to his team. At the same time, he got on one knee and began a long incantation as well. The temperature suddenly grew by a few degrees, and white fire began to spread around Taric. Sensing the divine power, the undead horde became even more rabid. They scrapped and bit the wall at full force; cracks began to spread. Betty began to sweat as more and more cracks began to form.

No longer able to take the pressure, the cracked force barrier shattered. Alas, their fates were sealed; they were but one moment too short.

The undead, of course.

"CONSECRATION!"

Holy flames seeped and spread throughout the backyard. The ground cracked and blistered under the divine power. The spell turning it into a temporary blessed land. The hordes of undead could only scream in despair as they melted like wax.

Taric had cut the nearly hundred man horde to a fraction of its original size. Only a lucky few zombies at the edge of the consecration survived. The mercenaries whooped for their leader and quickly made their way to the carriage.

Taric didn't share their enthusiasm as he kept his eyes on the surroundings. While consecration was powerful, the spell had its limits. The spell effectively decimated any undead attack, so maybe he was just paranoid. But there were more types of attacks in this world than just undead.

As luck would have it, his paranoia came true; at the corner of his eye, he saw a giant projectile flying towards his team. His senses already pushed to the limit; he reacted in a flash. Being too far for his sword to reach, he threw the whole blade straight towards it.

CLANG!

The blade smashed into the projectile forcing it to fly astray. The heavy boom scared the mercenaries as they saw a huge axe crash merely inches away from their heads.

Standing atop the inn's roof, a headless muscleman stood menacingly next to a rotten-looking ghoul. Behind them, a lich stared intently at the paladin. Unlike the others, there was no fear in its gaze, only hunger.

The paladin face blackened at the sight of the lich.

The lich cackled at the human and raised its bony finger forward. Dozens of zombies leaped and screamed with glee as they descended to feed.

Taric screamed out as he drew his war hammer "Get ready for round 2!"