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To Stem the Tides of Hell
No Rest for the Wicked

No Rest for the Wicked

Smoke filled the air, causing Dagon to retch uncontrollably as he ran. The fence that bordered his village from the wild outlands was destroyed and burning, yet it filled him with desparate hope as he got closer and closer, trying to ignore the screams behind him. Bandits had invaded his village from the West, overwhelming the guards with the magic of a blessed they had brought with them.

At least theres not a Champion among them, Dagon thought, Silver linings.

His desparate dash ground to a halt as he heard the crying of a young girl, who seemed to have hidden from the bandits as they raided her house. The thatched roof had collapsed, trapping the girl under the rubble. The fire was quickly spreading toward her and she would be burnt alive if she didn't recieve help.

"Ah fuck.", Dagon cursed as he turned around and ran into the building, grabbing the caved in roof that had fallen on the girl. He began to lift, his body straining under the immense weight. Dagon was never an athlete, but after being taken in as an orphan by his foster parents, he always worked as hard as he could on their farm, so he was by no means weak. Of course, there was no farm to be spoken of now.

This showed as he managed to lift what remained of the roof a few inches off of the little girl, allowing her to crawl out and stand up. "Go and run towards the forest, then head West towards Feral, they'll shelter you there." He said to the traumatised girl, who nodded weakly and staggered into the forest. Dagon once again started sprinting towards the village fence, when a man in full plate armour stepped in front of him.

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In a gravelly voice, the man spoke: "Sorry kid, but we got orders from the boss to kill anyone trying to escape, in case they make it to Feral and inform the Guild.". The man was casually holding onto a glaive that was longer than Dagon, glinting menacingly in the dusk light. Runes ran along the shaft, most likely increasing the sharpness and decreasing the weight of the weapon. "Oh you've gotta be fucking kidding m-" Dagon began, but had to stop his dialogue due to the wickedly sharp blade flying towards his head. 

Ducking, he tried to turn and run, only for his legs to be kicked out from under him by his assailant. Dagon turned, raising his head to see the glaive swinging towards his unprotected neck.

Sorry dad, even after you took an arrow for me to escape, I couldn't make it, Dagon thought, tears forming in the corners of his eyes as he felt a brief flash of pain, then nothing. When he continued to feel nothing for what must have been minutes, he slowly opened his eyes, to see complete darkness all around him.

Dagon wondered why he couldn't feel anything, until he realised with a start that he had no body to feel with. As if this revelation was a trigger, a strained and harsh female voice spoke in his mind: 

"Welcome to my domain, mortal."

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