The Last Contract

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Nor were there trolls, beastmen, or deformed creatures. It used to be fields of green grass, soil rich in minerals, and rows upon rows of fruit and vegetation plants nurtured by a farming village that had sat tightly within the Valley. Now, it has turned into a land of wretched nightmares caused by a ritual gone wrong by the savage Lammenian tribes. A ritual in which they attempted to retrieve power from another dimension by deciphering an ancient scroll, stolen from the Kenshutsu Empire. They used a correct combination of low octave tuned banging war drums with mass chanting matching the unusual frequencies of the beat, as towering quartz crystals surrounded them and the altar, positioned around in a particular pattern using a form of sacred geometry. Causing atoms to clash and distort at a microscopic level, leading to a tear in reality and an opening of a gateway between dimensions.

However, their interpretation of the ancient foreign language was wrong. As what stepped through the gateway was a horned beast of vile nature. A demon prince named Gjorn, who was banished to the realm of eternal suffering for attempting to conquer the world of mortals, and going against the gods of creation to which he once served. Eventually he ruled the realm with powerful magic and the might of his sword by years of slaying and demanding obedience from the wretched creatures that coexisted within, whilst forever monitoring the mortal world for another chance to enter, as he sits on his throne made of bones and metal among the fiery pits of torment.

Seizing the opportunity, he lured the gateway into his dimension as it soared into the cosmos and searched for a reality to grasp. Without hesitation, he stepped through the gateway into the mortal world, immediately slaughtering the terror-stricken tribesmen with swift movements of his sword as he towered over them, whilst using magic to burst them into flames with a click of his long nail pointed fingers. Whilst the air and reality around him distorts from his presence, turning the sky into a fiery red as the life force drains from plants and trees to a withered, unappealing brown, as animals and insects deform into some kind of wretched abomination.

Summoning his servants out of the gateway with a roar, legions of wicked creatures with demonic traits take over the land of Nadelia. An array of terror such as the bat-winged harpies that feast on the unfortunate with razor-sharp teeth, the scrawny goblin-like imps that cause havoc with their rusted blades, and the relentless Damned Knights who can cleave one in a single blow as they ride their large beastly goats. Whilst other vile creatures that inspire absolute terror will wander the lands, and ensuring the living nightmare to continue.

High upon a mountain peak that looks into the Valley, seven of the best hired mercenaries arranging from different kingdoms and empires finish their rest and observe the bone castle that has emerged from the deep underground and reigns over the Valley. They remain quiet and tense as they sharpen their blades and prepare their weapons, with a slight feeling of hostility in the air as some have come from warring kingdoms, whilst others are released from their prison cells for this dire mission. However, they all share the same uncertain feeling of their future, as their leaders have summoned them in desperation, and that their target is not of man.

“We shall traverse across the peaks to get closer to the castle. It may be a difficult journey, however we are less likely to be seen,” says Greysen Osgar, a burly man in his forties from the noble Kaameloth Kingdom, his large ginger beard resting over his chest plate armor whilst his coat made from animal hide flails in the wind. He looks towards the gothic stronghold, where its black spiked towers stretch to the swirling lightning ridden clouds that are coated red from the monstrosities that dwell below. As two dragons circle the top of the largest tower, awakened and released from the appearance of Gjorn after being trapped underground by the forces of man thousands of years earlier. Whilst small fires and giant tentacles of pink veiny flesh that seem to resemble some kind of dormant organism infest the grounds around the bone castle.

“I don’t remember making you the leader,” snarls Raiu Karishi, as he sits on a rock with a frown and polishes his copper ogre mask with a cloth. Whilst his companion, Basuto, runs a sharpening rock across his sword whilst glaring across at Greysen. Both of them wearing dark red scale armor with black undergarments, and hailing from the samurai-like Kenshutsu Empire, a superpower that has rivaled the Kaameloth Kingdom for centuries. Both territories putting a hold on their disdain for each other, and forging an alliance.

“Why should we listen to one from a kingdom that cannot control the insurgences across its land?” Raiu adds, referring to the Lammenian tribesmen that performed the ritual.

“If your tyrant of a leader ensured destruction of the scrolls of sorcery instead of beating its own people into submission, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Greysen snaps, as wind flicks particles of sand onto the rocks.

“You dare to talk badly about our empire?,” Raiu warns as he places his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Both of you, enough,” barks Shun Kenzo, a woman in her early thirties who wears black garments that match her long straight black hair. An assassin from the Kenshutsu Empire.

“He’s right. Going along the peaks will take longer. But traversing through the plains is too dangerous. We’ve already lost four of us so far,” she adds, causing Raiu to agree reluctantly, as he thinks how they only all met each other yesterday and already lost four mercenaries in battle.

“Don’t worry, my love. I will protect you,” says Willard Kendrick in a sleazy manner, as he leans on a rock and licks the remains of cooked meat off his large knife whilst one eye stares at Shun. The other hidden behind his black eye patch that partially covers a scar from the top of his right eyebrow to his cheek.

“When an animal is kept in a cage for years, upon release, it goes a bit… wild,” he adds with a smug smirk, referring to his time in prison.

“And that is when it’s best to put an animal down,” she responds whilst rolling her eyes.

“Head in the game, Willard. This is not some pesky lord you can shank in some alleyway,” Greysen says, causing Willard’s smirk to drop and glare at Greysen, suppressing the urge to kill as he knows the battle ahead will be tough enough without the loss of another trained killer.

“This target is apparently not of this world. And the amount of gold bestowed on us if we emerge victorious will be enough to make us kings,” says Greysen.

“You guys are getting paid? Ahh shit,” curses Willard, as he sits up and runs his large hand through his short brown hair.

“Are we ready?” Greysen asks the two other mercenaries from the Craigie and Norfold kingdoms that had remained quiet as they organized their equipment. They respond with a nod.

“Let’s move,” Greysen says, as the group stands to begin their journey. As the others pass, a hand grips Greysen’s gauntlet. He turns to see Raiu, his eyes looking into Greysens through his ogre mask, as he clenches onto his arm.

“If neither of us perishes, and we exterminate our target. You and I shall duel,” Raiu says with a menacing challenge, before slowly releasing grip and following the others. Greysen shakes his head with a smirk.

“We’re all going to perish,” he says under his breath. Before following the others, that lead towards the giant black castle that reaches to the red sky.