Prolouge
1658, JULY 8, 1:32 AM
Rain pattered on the wooden roofs of Perimnum. The residents of the village slept soundly in their warm sheep and goat skins, with the fireplace burning warm. The quiet was unnerving, but still peaceful and calm at the same time. The sky was hidden by hard, dark clouds, which was a time of peace and safety for the villagers. No werewolves howled to sky, no goblins came out of their underground adobes and raided the village. No gargoyles dive from the sky and pillaged the villagers with their sharp, rocky claws. Nothing – nothing but the loud clanging of the of metal on metal, hammer on iron, the beads of sweat dripping down the blacksmith’s face, then sizzling on the hot metal.
He was constantly bending a plate of what seemed like titanium, but dark, much much more darker, as dark as the sky above. The blacksmith bent it into a rectangular box, leaving the sides open and jutting out, he then folded that too, until it was like a miniature copy. A beam of lightning danced across the sky, illuminating what seemed like the world, like pointing a concentrated light into a dark cave. The blacksmith looked up, and he rushed to the side, picking up a what seemed to be a triangular prism, but thinner and longer. He then quickly inserted it into the box, bolting the sides in, which completed the box.
He ran to the furnace, tripping over a basket of metals. He had no time to lose. He took out sixteen puffed out metal rectangles, almost the same as the box, but with two heavily hinged sides. There was a small indent along a fourth of the way, which then formed into a wall. He picked up a brass bracelet that was painted black and a copper chip with a button on it. He proceeded to throw all the items into a basket. The box, boxes, chip, and bracelet were then covered by a cloth. The blacksmith slipped a piece of paper under it, and sent it down the frosty river that was next to his workshop.
Another large bolt of descended from the pitch-black sky, hitting the icy permafrost, instantly thawing it. A black cloud mist drifted into the air from the ground, filling up the space around it quickly. It moved like smooth water flowing into the air, but it was evil, a dark magic only mastered by strong Demons. The mist grabbed at the air, trying to grasp the blacksmith’s throat. The blacksmith desperately tried to back away, but slipped on the wet mud and sent it flying everywhere. The black swarm of mist moved forward, and it slowly dissolved away in the rain, weaving its way through the wet mud on the ground and onto the blacksmith. It gripped at his skin, and became strong black veins. As more of the mist dissolved and latched on to the blacksmith, a figure emerged from the darkness.
At first it looked like a Demon, but with the powerful arms and strong legs, it was certainly a Mixed. It had two large, tattered, and leathery wings, short razor sharp claws, a pair of twisted horns protruding out from its skull, and a set of bright red eyes with a sharp glare embedded deep into its skull. The chest of the beast was muscular and hard, with deep scars that were clearly gained from combat. The left arm looked a bit deformed, and there was a bite mark on the biceps, with the wounds sinking in deep. A black fluid ran from the wound throughout the body. The right ear had its top cut off by what looked like a serrated blade, and it still had the black fluid – or blood – on it. The mouth of the monster was curled into a smirk, and it opened to reveal shark like teeth and the black fluid, replacing the normal saliva a living thing has.
“You know, I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Bidrious,” the Mixed Demon boomed.
“W-what are y-you ‘ere for?” Bidrious asked, grimacing at the pain which the black fluid caused, seeping into his skin and to his heart.
“I’m pretty sure you know what,” It replied, annunciating the ‘t’ loudly, causing Bidrious to shiver again, this time in fear.
“I-I don’t know – don’t know what y-yer talkin’ a-about,” The blacksmith said in a hoarse whisper, as the black fluid seeped deeper into his body. His heart stopped, as the fluid clawed it, and then injected itself into it. His head fell back into the mud.
“Search the house, if not, the village,” the Mixed Demon paused, “if not, the kingdom.” Two dozen piles of mist grew from the ground. A few seconds later, Demons stepped out of them, and they proceeded to raid the house. “Gugor has rised AGAIN!!!!” The Mixed Demon boomed, his dark voice echoing in the mountains.
Sebric Books 