Prologue

Before the heroes were out of their cradles others tried.

Prologue

            Endymion crept slowly over the snow covered rocks. The smallest crunch of ice could alert his targets. He looked for the sun but the clouds blocked it from the sky. He was travel worn and his body numb, but ever on he hunted. The monster Fenrir had captured and killed their people for too long. It was his time to slay the wolf king.

            Through the thick of trees he noticed a small cave entrance further up the mountain. At long last shelter he thought. Just outside he peered in. The air was strangely musty and thick with humidity and it reeked of death. Fumbling through his pack he produced a small torch which he lit by striking the cavern walls. The torch produced only enough light to see several yards in front of himself. So this must be an entrance into the packs domain, so much for shelter.

            Moving forward the stench grew stronger and soon flies and gnawed bones began to litter the floor. It took everything in himself not to hurl. Maggots were everywhere. Endymion couldn’t step without squashing hundreds. “This cave reeks of the taint,” he muttered. Pressing forward he could hear a low and deep growl further in. Not ceasing his advance he drew his blade. The hilt felt good in his hand, the weight was well balanced, and will look quite nice protruding from the beast’s stomach.

            His body surged with adrenaline, his target and he, knew of each other’s presence. He was at the disadvantage in the dark cave however he had planned for this already. “Come forth beast! Face me like a man would! A one on one duel.”

            Light paw steps could be heard moving from all over. It seemed the cave had many branching tunnels that remained hidden in the dark. The sound was distant but soon it came closer and ever growing in number. Endymion stood fast unwilling to falter now. He was the champion of the Sleuthon knights. He bore his house crest proudly on his shield and would return a hero or not at all. “Come on! Show yourself!”

            No sooner did he raise another challenge did razor sharp claws come speeding past him rending armor and flesh alike. With a cry of pain Endymion stumbled sideways losing his torch and light. His breastplate was slashed as easily as butter. Catching his balance he struck out where he could hear another attacker’s approach. With a howl and a splay of blood his enemy fell. He reached for his shield, he had fastened to his back but was too slow as one after another he was assaulted in a manner similar to his first assailant. Arms, legs, face, back, chest, arms again, the attacks came again and again until he could take no more. Falling to his knees he felt cold. His body was covered in his own gore. So soon; he had hardly gotten to their lair and already he was dying. No hero’s welcome, no hero’s burial, he was to die in some smelly cave full of maggots and his corpse devoured by the wolf-men.

            Not yet, at least he had to meet his target. The Wolf Fenrir. To die before then was not enough. “Fenrir!” Endymion called, a man possessed, he rose and stood to face the leader. Straight ahead he could hear a deep and cynical laughter.

            “You humans aren’t a very tasty lot, but here I suppose you’ll do. After all who are we to refuse a free meal when it comes violently onto our door step?” Fenrir taunted Endymion, to him he was nothing but a snack.

            “You monster! You kill our animals and people. Destroy our work and even the few crops we can manage to produce you leave in ruin. You took from me my wife and son! I cannot allow you to live!” Endymion began to chant to himself with words of power.

            “You came with enchanted tools to face me? Your kind has grown a bit smarter but not enough.” Fenrir lunged forward and bit into Endymion’s torso, chomping into his chest and left arm. Endymion’s armor had proven useless and merely slowed him.

            Breaking from his chant Endymion fell back tackled by the overwhelming strength and weight of the wolf-man. This was the end, everything he had proved worthless. His tools, and nature was not on his side. He stopped fighting fate and readied himself to meet his wife in the next world. He could hear a mighty arm raise high, followed by a deep growl and then, nothing.

 

*

            The great oak doors of the warrior’s hall suddenly came crashing down. The half-drunken knights all rose with a start, some falling and others drawing their blades. Tens of dozens of wolf-men came spilling into the hall. The warriors were quickly surrounded and outnumbered.

            “What, what is going on?” cried a knight. It was clear, their hero had failed and now they would feel the wrath of the victors.

            The wolves in the entrance moved for their king as Fenrir entered with all the menace of Hell behind him. His muzzle and fur were bloody and filthy. In his right hand was the head of Endymion. His eyes were plucked out and it was dripping with blood. “The toy broke too easily,” the king mocked. He threw the head on the table and let it roll over plates until it came to a halt. “That man took from us one of our pack! So now all of you here will be the sacrifice we give him to offer God when they meet.” the knights, servants, and even children were overwhelmed and slain by the pack without mercy. The corpses were taken as prizes by the wolf-men for feasting and sacrifice with only the head of their ‘hero’ left as a message of warning and dominance. The day would come to be known as The Blood Harvest. 

Reviews

[Jack Wolfe]

Endymion crept (slowly) over the snow covered rocks. The smallest crunch of ice could alert his targets. He looked for the sun (,) but the clouds blocked it from the sky. He was travel(-) worn and his body numb, but ever on he hunted.

Through the thick of trees he noticed a small cave entrance further up the mountain-- He trudged further up the mountain, and through a thick of trees he noticed a cave entrance. (rework your sentences to read more concise.)

At (long) last shelter he thought. (At last, shelter, he thought) or (At last . . . shelter, he thought, add exhaustion in to his words)

The air was (strangely)musty and thick with humidity (and) (,) it reeked of death.

The fantasy genre really is not my strong suit most of my knowledge comes from Tolkien or Lewis, and most recently, rpg games I play with my nephews, which this piece reminded me of a title called 'Skyrim'.

It's a very interesting story, you just need to work on your sentence structures, insure your subjects are the main focal point. There are a few grammatical errors a couple I pointed out, but nothing glaring. I hope this helps.

[SquinklaPsyOps]

I really like the prologue so far.

The story caught me right from the very beginning.

Your writing style brings it all together very nicely.

Will definitely read it again.