Bounty Hunters

Prologue

The was a toast among the group. Cups clashed and drinks spilled from them before quickly being drank by the less than sober soldiers. At least that's what Victor called them. In truth these men were murderers and thieves. Here is the Wolfpack they had a place. New lives.

He turned to look at the rest of the camp. Most were reassembling tents under then full moon sky. Stars looked down upon them like a million eyes. Victor had always admired the stars. As a boy he learned how to use them for direction. It's been a valuable skill recently for over half of his men barely knew north from south.

A man took his place beside Victor and offered him a cup. Thomas, practically his brother, had been with him since they became cell mates. It was Victor's brains that got them out of King Ethan's dungeon and Thomas's strength that held off the guards.

After that they established the Wolfpack, a group that took in criminals looking for new lives.

It was in the wilderness they survived. It was under the oaks and the stars that they thrived.

"Long night?," Thomas asked.

"Long, yes, but not nearly as tiring as last."

"Hate those d***ed boars," he sips his cup,"they destroyed the camp."

"Aye, but we got dinner out of them."

"That we did," Thomas said, looking at the fire in front of them. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted.

"Written to Elizabeth lately?," Victor asked as he finished his drink. Holding his hand over his mouth, he burped into his black, leather gloves.

Thomas shook his head. "It's pointless really..... she never writes me back."

"You did try to murder her brother."

"I was drunk and he took my wallet!," he exclaims with wide eyes.

Victor chuckles. "You would've tried to murder him if you weren't drunk." Thomas laughs with him.

There's a chill in the camp, suddenly. A cold wind seems to blow through. Shivering, Victor crosses his arms. Thomas does the same.

"That was no winter wind my friend," Thomas says as he looks around him.

His words are true. I could feel the freezing wind rip through my soul.

The rest of the Wolfpack seems to realize this to and slowly begin pulling out their swords. Thomas pulls his dual-handed sword, Key.

Victor pulls his sword, Piercer, from its sheathe. While not much good for slashing at an enemy it'll stab through any armor.

A giant flock of ravens fly overhead, blocking the stars from view.

The entire camp is on edge, constantly checking behind them and around them.

Another wind blows throughout. All the fires are extinguished by the gust.

Darkness consumes the camp and from the darkness there's an eerie silence.

A scream rips through the camp followed by the slashing of swords. Thomas runs towards the noise as Victor follows swiftly behind him.

Whatever attacks them uses the darkness to its advantage. One moment the fighting can be heard just a few feet away. The next it's behind them.

Victor had grown used to the sound of Thomas's chainmail. It has a distinct sound from years of wear. Victor stops suddenly aware that he can no longer hear Thomas's armor.

"Thomas!," he shouts through the fight. There's no answer.

And now the fighting stops.

Dead silence fills the clearing once more as another wind blows through.

A cold hand grabs him from behind. It's long, black, armored fingers close around his throat making Victor choke.

He's lifted at least two feet off the ground before being throw into the dust. Blood drips from Victor's neck but he remains alive and relatively unharmed.

The fires come back to life.

Standing over him was a seven foot tall warrior in full, fitted onyx armor. On each side are one handed swords. Atop his head is a helmet that resembles that of a bird. Not just any bird. But a raven.

The man seems to be feeling his gloves. Scarlet drips from his fingers and in his palm, Victor's necklace.

Passed down to each firstborn son in his fathers line.

The strange warrior seems to regard Victor through his helm before turning his back to him and walking away.

Victor stands, pulling Piercer from its sheathe.

With one jab he stabs Piercer in the mans back.

Piercer shatters in Victor's hand and the man continues walking without showing any sign of notice. Victor looks at his sword. All that's left is the hilt and a small bit of blade. It shines in the light of the fire.

The cawing of birds fills Victors ears and turns his head. From where the man is headed the swarm of ravens emerges.

They rip through Victor's chainmail.

Tearing him apart.