Prologue

Authors note: Constructive Criticism is welcome and encouraged and if you review I review. Also please excuse any grammatical errors; stupid Microsoft Word spell checker.

The bloodstained sword swerved in an arc, the double edge tip neatly slicing into the villagers’ throat which issued a spray of ruby red blood. Faust watched as the man dropped his spear and clutched his throat. He dropped to his knees gurgling and gasping. The man’s eyes nearly burst from their sockets as his hands wrapped themselves around his throat vainly trying to stem the flow of blood.

The bandit lifted his right foot and slammed the heel of his boot into the man’s nose. The man toppled backwards unconscious of the fact that he was slowly bleeding to death. It was a mercy in Faust’s eyes to die that way.

He turned away from the body and stared at his surroundings. All of his fellow bandits were locked in a life or death battle that they were rapidly losing. They had been taken by surprise by the ambush of the militiamen. No doubt they had travelled a great distance to exact their vengeance upon the bandits. He whirled around to find his next opponent who came in the form of a young barely out of his teens charging at him with a bloodstained mace. There was rage in his eyes and Faust knew that if the boy got close enough Faust would lose.

He drew out his flintlock pistol and savored the rather shocked look on the young attackers face as he squeezed the trigger. A small puff of smoke clouded his sight but when the wind blew it away he could see the man on the floor with a hole in the centre of his brain with blood and brain matter oozing out of the back of his skull.

Faust lowered his pistol and whirled around to see a man within striking distance of him; the man attempted to gut him. Faust pivoted on his left heel allowing the man to brush past him and flipped the pistol around so that he was holding it by the barrel. He brought the silver capped butt of the pistol on to the man’s skull and heard a sickening crack above the cries of death. The man fell flat face onto the earth and started to twitch; a signal of his death throes.

He had barely finished this when an felt a sharp sensation near his shoulder. He turned to see a large arrow stuck lodged into his left shoulder. He stared wildly searching for the attacker but saw only men savagely murdering each other each too busy venting untold greivances upon their opponents. One giant man was sensely reducing an already dead man to a mound of quivering pink flesh with avid delight. Another; a young woman from the militia met her fate in the form of a beheading with an axe. Her head dropped to the ground and rolled to the tips of his boots as blood gushed from her neck like a fountain. Faust felt like if it weren't for the pain. He looked up to an another arrow coming towards him and before he could even move it was too late.

It rammed into the lower left part of his torso. Faust could do nothing but let out an agonizing scream as he toppled backwards shrieking in pain. He finally saw the figure holding the bow. The man had a smile of satisfaction and Faust snarled angrily and his gripped the arrow in his lower torso tightly. Then he ripped it out howling in anger and tossed it aside. The archer sneered and readied another arrow. Faust gave him a vicious grin in response, his left arm felt as if it were on fire as he quickly drew out the second flintlock pistol and pointed it at the man. The bullet made it's way into the man's right eye and it exploded into a gory mess of blood, yellow puss and pinkish flesh. Faust smiled victoriously as his left arm dropped to the ground rippling with the pain caused by the movements.

His breathes started to grow shallow and the world seemed to dull as if a thin veil had been placed over his eyes. It was then that he saw a woman approaching him weaving through the battlefield and bodies of men like smoke, her eyes was the color of a mist and her skin a greenish color. She was garbed in tatters that made it seem as if she were some type of beggar yet Faust knew he was not. The combatants seemed to ignore this presence; it was as if she was invisible to their eyes. Faust could not understand how; she reeked of power, it clung to her frail form like a cloak. It made his skin crawl and his stopping heart race once more in fear. Blood seemed to spew out even quicker with her apperance. This woman, this witch was unnatural.

She finally came to his side and knelt before him. “I am afraid I cannot let you die child.” Her voice was like soft and distant. “You have so much to do.”

And then Faust’s eyelids grew heavy and he began to mumble a prayer through his lips that he had learnt long ago. Somehow he knew death would be merciful as compared to what would happen now.