Nicodemus Zamoran
The Hellslayer Knight
After a brutal demon attack, a stranger stumbles into town. Wounded gravely, he is taken to the inn, where he is tended to. However, no one, not even the man himself, knows where he came from. He only remembers his name.
Who is he? Where did he come from? Why am I asking you this? No idea. Just read the story already!!
Chapter 1
Most kingdoms are peaceful other than the occasional war, but a few have little peace. The Kingdom of Movial is under constant attack from demons. The villages fight them off the best they can, but to no avail. Many die every attack, yet the people never leave. Many of the villages contain sacred shrines of the Gods and Goddesses of War, the beings that the kingdom worships. The village of Garnish gets the worst of the attacks since it is so close to the gates of hell, and it is the site of the holiest of the shrines. For this, the people fight fiercely.
One day, after a particularly brutal attack, a strange man stumbled into Garnish. He had short black hair, black clothing, including a long, black cloak, and his eyes would mysteriously change colors, but seemingly with his mood. He was gravely wounded, his clothes torn, and a broken sword in his hands. No one knew this man, but they took him to the inn and started to tend to his wounds anyways. For days, he was in a restless sleep. Then, at some point, he awoke.
The strange man opened his eyes and looked around. The room was dimly lit by a pair of candles on the small stool next to his bed. The windows showed that it was nighttime, and the darkness of the room was very profound. However, the man's eyes soon adjusted and he saw that the room had a low ceiling and was made out of wood, with intricate patterns carved into the walls, swirling and zigzagging around in mesmerizing patterns. The bed he was in was soft and warm, something the man hadn't felt in ages, and the room smelled strongly of oak and maple. He moved his head to the side and noticed there was a woman sitting next to him. She looked to be in her early twenties, with auburn hair and startling topaz eyes. She smiled softly as she saw his gaze fall upon her.
"You've awakened." She said in a soft, sweet voice. "You were wounded so badly, we thought you'd never wake up." She held up a small bowl. "Would you like some soup?"
The man started to sit up and immediately gripped his head as he felt a sharp pain. “Where am I?” He asked.
The woman placed the bowl on the stool next to the man. "You are in Garnish, a village of the kingdom of Movial and the largest religious site thereof." She sighed. "It won't be that way for long though..." She said in a distant, emotionless voice.
The man stopped clutching at his head as the pain subsided and his thought cleared. He had no memory of arriving, or of his past. The only thing he knew about himself was his name, Nicodemus Zamoran. “How did I get here?” He asked, exhaustion in his voice.
"You stumbled into the village." She said, remembering the moment vividly. "You were wearing a tattered black cloak, with several gaping wounds on your body." She shivered. "There was so much blood, we thought for sure you'd die, yet you didn’t."
Nic sighed. She didn’t know what he wanted. “Where is the village leader?” He asked, hoping that whoever it was knew more than this woman.
The woman looked at the ground. "He is dead. He died honorably in battle."
“I need to speak with someone. Isn’t there going to be a new leader?” Nic asked, slightly annoyed.
The woman shook her head. "Our forces are already spread dangerously thin. And this village, although the holiest of our kingdom, apparently is undeserving of a new leader."
This caught Nicodemus’ attention. “What exactly is this village fighting against?” He asked slowly.
The woman closed her eyes. "Demons." She said quietly.
Demons... The death of men, yet we have no idea how to stop them... He thought to himself. He stood up and looked around. “Where is my cloak?” He asked. The woman gestured to the cloak, hanging on night rack by Nicodemus' bed. The black fabric was badly torn and covered in blood, the intricate patterns of dark red thread ruined. He grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder, then exited the room.
The woman grabbed Nicodemus' shoulder as he walked out. "Wait. You're still injured... Don't you want to stay and rest first?" She looked into his deep blue eyes as they slowly changed to red. "N-Never mind. You have a mission. I can tell by your eyes."
Nic turned as her hand slipped of his shoulder. Outside the room, a few people had been grouped at a nearby table and they turned to look at Nic.
One of the men got up and looked at Nicodemus. He was fairly old with bright red hair and dark brown eyes. He also had a short beard. "You are leaving, correct?" He said, and held out his broadsword. "Then use this. I have no more use for it anyway." He showed a blackened wound on his left arm. "It's a two handed sword, and my arm is going to be nothing but animal food soon, so take it."
Nic gripped the hilt of the blade and hefted the blade into the air. The weight of the blade made him feel comfortable. He ran his fingers along the edge, testing it. It was sharp, but not sharp enough to his liking, but it would do for now. “Where is the tailor of this village?” He asked as he examined the blade closely.
The man pointed out the window to a larger building. "There. She should be able to fix your cloak. Well, as well as she can." He said as he noticed the bloodied and torn cloak.
Nic nodded and exited the inn. In the street, people stopped to stare at him, some whispering conspiratorially. A young man of about 10 stepped in front of him.
The boy looked at the man. "Are you the man that almost died?" He asked in an incredulous voice.
Nic stopped and looked down at the boy. He had dirty blonde hair, and his face was filthy, yet he seemed sturdy. His soft blue eyes stared at him in awe. “Yeah, I almost died.” He said and tried to walk past the boy.
The boy stepped in front of him again. "Are you going to save our village?"
“I don’t know, kid. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” Nic said as he tried yet again to walk past the boy. The boy stepped aside, seemingly satisfied with the answer he got, and Nic walked past him into the Tailor’s shop. Inside, a woman was bent over some scrolls she was writing upon, he hair a light brown. Nic walked up to her and stopped, waiting for the woman to notice him.
The woman took her time to notice Nic. About half a minute of him standing there. She looked at his tattered cloak and smiled. "I would assume you want me to repair that, right?"
Nic smiled slightly. “No. I would actually like to request you make a new one exactly like it. To repair this one would only be a waste of time.”
The woman took the cloak and examined intricate pattern. "That shouldn't take too long, but with that pattern... It may take a while yet."
“When can it be done without rushing it?” Nic asked.
The woman thought for a moment. "About a half-day's worth of nonstop work time."
“Then I will be back tomorrow morning to pick it up.” Nic said and turned around, heading for the door.
When Nic walked back outside, the town was in panic. The townsfolk were running for their lives from something clearly inhuman. A small legion of red, burning, humanoid skeletons wearing dark red armor and wielding an assortment of weapons. Two of them looked at Nic, their eye sockets filled with flame, and charged at him, swords raised.
Nic cracked his neck and raised the broadsword that the man had given him. “I don’t mean to spoil your fun, but I think it is time for you to leave.” Nic said casually, hoping the weapon he held would do some good.
The demons hissed and stopped charging. "You are the one that carries the heart of warriors..." One said in a low tone.
Nic ****ed his head to the side. “Heart of the warriors? Never heard of it.” He said and slowly walked towards the demons, the sword held tightly in his hands.
The demons walked slowly towards Nic. "If you do not know what it is, we do not have to tell you." The other demon mocked.
“Fine by me.” Nic said. He jumped forward and knocked the head off of one of the demons, then thrust the blade into the chest of the other one. The demon that lost his head picked it back up and twisted it back on, then charged at Nic to avenge the other's death. Nic raised the sword and prepared to attack when he noticed that the blade had been melted off. “Dammit.” He said through clenched teeth. He threw what was left at the demon and then raised his fists. “Let’s dance, ugly.”
The demon caught the melted sword and squeezed, crushing it to metallic scraps. "Indeed we shall." It said, and charged at Nic with a stab.
Nic dodged to the side and kicked the demon’s leg, knocking it away and causing it to fall to the ground. “You don’t dance very well.” He said as he stomped on the demons head, crushing it. He stepped back. “Who else want a piece?” he called to the other demons.
The demons looked at Nicodemus, and then at their fallen comrades. Nic could almost swear that they seemed frozen in fear for a second, but that moment passed when they all charged at him.
Meanwhile, the man who had given Nicodemus his sword watched with widened eyes. "None of the demons were ever killed before..." He muttered to himself. "Who IS this man?"
Nic quickly grabbed one of the demons weapons, a long scimitar, the blade honed to a sharp point. “One man against an army of demon. Not really fair don’t you think?” He asked as he charged forward, slashing at the demons quickly.
The demons didn't have much time at all to react. Several were slaughtered on the spot, and those that tried to run were quickly cut down.
As the last demon fell to Nicodemus’ feet, the sword he held seemed to crumble, turning to dust and quickly vanishing as the demons did the same. Through the attack, only a few people had died, and a single man had been injured. “Well, that didn’t take long.” Nic said nonchalantly.
The man that had given Nic his sword walked out from his hiding place and quickly ran to Nic's side. "How did you do that? Those demons were invulnerable to our weapons... But you managed to kill them all.”
Nic stopped. He hadn’t even noticed that he was killing them. “I don’t know… I just did.” He said slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face.
The man thought for a second. "You should go to the shrine that's not far out of town. Our god should know what to tell you."
Nic shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt.” He said. “Where is it?”
"Take that path." The man pointed to a dirt trail that led out of town. "Go that way until you reach the temple... You'll know it when you see it."
“Thanks.” Nic said. He then turned and started to walk towards the path, a determined look on his face.
The man smiled to himself. "Good luck." He said quietly.
End
Who is he? Where did he come from? Why am I asking you this? No idea. Just read the story already!!
Chapter 1
Most kingdoms are peaceful other than the occasional war, but a few have little peace. The Kingdom of Movial is under constant attack from demons. The villages fight them off the best they can, but to no avail. Many die every attack, yet the people never leave. Many of the villages contain sacred shrines of the Gods and Goddesses of War, the beings that the kingdom worships. The village of Garnish gets the worst of the attacks since it is so close to the gates of hell, and it is the site of the holiest of the shrines. For this, the people fight fiercely.
One day, after a particularly brutal attack, a strange man stumbled into Garnish. He had short black hair, black clothing, including a long, black cloak, and his eyes would mysteriously change colors, but seemingly with his mood. He was gravely wounded, his clothes torn, and a broken sword in his hands. No one knew this man, but they took him to the inn and started to tend to his wounds anyways. For days, he was in a restless sleep. Then, at some point, he awoke.
~~~~
The strange man opened his eyes and looked around. The room was dimly lit by a pair of candles on the small stool next to his bed. The windows showed that it was nighttime, and the darkness of the room was very profound. However, the man's eyes soon adjusted and he saw that the room had a low ceiling and was made out of wood, with intricate patterns carved into the walls, swirling and zigzagging around in mesmerizing patterns. The bed he was in was soft and warm, something the man hadn't felt in ages, and the room smelled strongly of oak and maple. He moved his head to the side and noticed there was a woman sitting next to him. She looked to be in her early twenties, with auburn hair and startling topaz eyes. She smiled softly as she saw his gaze fall upon her.
"You've awakened." She said in a soft, sweet voice. "You were wounded so badly, we thought you'd never wake up." She held up a small bowl. "Would you like some soup?"
The man started to sit up and immediately gripped his head as he felt a sharp pain. “Where am I?” He asked.
The woman placed the bowl on the stool next to the man. "You are in Garnish, a village of the kingdom of Movial and the largest religious site thereof." She sighed. "It won't be that way for long though..." She said in a distant, emotionless voice.
The man stopped clutching at his head as the pain subsided and his thought cleared. He had no memory of arriving, or of his past. The only thing he knew about himself was his name, Nicodemus Zamoran. “How did I get here?” He asked, exhaustion in his voice.
"You stumbled into the village." She said, remembering the moment vividly. "You were wearing a tattered black cloak, with several gaping wounds on your body." She shivered. "There was so much blood, we thought for sure you'd die, yet you didn’t."
Nic sighed. She didn’t know what he wanted. “Where is the village leader?” He asked, hoping that whoever it was knew more than this woman.
The woman looked at the ground. "He is dead. He died honorably in battle."
“I need to speak with someone. Isn’t there going to be a new leader?” Nic asked, slightly annoyed.
The woman shook her head. "Our forces are already spread dangerously thin. And this village, although the holiest of our kingdom, apparently is undeserving of a new leader."
This caught Nicodemus’ attention. “What exactly is this village fighting against?” He asked slowly.
The woman closed her eyes. "Demons." She said quietly.
Demons... The death of men, yet we have no idea how to stop them... He thought to himself. He stood up and looked around. “Where is my cloak?” He asked. The woman gestured to the cloak, hanging on night rack by Nicodemus' bed. The black fabric was badly torn and covered in blood, the intricate patterns of dark red thread ruined. He grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder, then exited the room.
The woman grabbed Nicodemus' shoulder as he walked out. "Wait. You're still injured... Don't you want to stay and rest first?" She looked into his deep blue eyes as they slowly changed to red. "N-Never mind. You have a mission. I can tell by your eyes."
Nic turned as her hand slipped of his shoulder. Outside the room, a few people had been grouped at a nearby table and they turned to look at Nic.
One of the men got up and looked at Nicodemus. He was fairly old with bright red hair and dark brown eyes. He also had a short beard. "You are leaving, correct?" He said, and held out his broadsword. "Then use this. I have no more use for it anyway." He showed a blackened wound on his left arm. "It's a two handed sword, and my arm is going to be nothing but animal food soon, so take it."
Nic gripped the hilt of the blade and hefted the blade into the air. The weight of the blade made him feel comfortable. He ran his fingers along the edge, testing it. It was sharp, but not sharp enough to his liking, but it would do for now. “Where is the tailor of this village?” He asked as he examined the blade closely.
The man pointed out the window to a larger building. "There. She should be able to fix your cloak. Well, as well as she can." He said as he noticed the bloodied and torn cloak.
Nic nodded and exited the inn. In the street, people stopped to stare at him, some whispering conspiratorially. A young man of about 10 stepped in front of him.
The boy looked at the man. "Are you the man that almost died?" He asked in an incredulous voice.
Nic stopped and looked down at the boy. He had dirty blonde hair, and his face was filthy, yet he seemed sturdy. His soft blue eyes stared at him in awe. “Yeah, I almost died.” He said and tried to walk past the boy.
The boy stepped in front of him again. "Are you going to save our village?"
“I don’t know, kid. Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” Nic said as he tried yet again to walk past the boy. The boy stepped aside, seemingly satisfied with the answer he got, and Nic walked past him into the Tailor’s shop. Inside, a woman was bent over some scrolls she was writing upon, he hair a light brown. Nic walked up to her and stopped, waiting for the woman to notice him.
The woman took her time to notice Nic. About half a minute of him standing there. She looked at his tattered cloak and smiled. "I would assume you want me to repair that, right?"
Nic smiled slightly. “No. I would actually like to request you make a new one exactly like it. To repair this one would only be a waste of time.”
The woman took the cloak and examined intricate pattern. "That shouldn't take too long, but with that pattern... It may take a while yet."
“When can it be done without rushing it?” Nic asked.
The woman thought for a moment. "About a half-day's worth of nonstop work time."
“Then I will be back tomorrow morning to pick it up.” Nic said and turned around, heading for the door.
When Nic walked back outside, the town was in panic. The townsfolk were running for their lives from something clearly inhuman. A small legion of red, burning, humanoid skeletons wearing dark red armor and wielding an assortment of weapons. Two of them looked at Nic, their eye sockets filled with flame, and charged at him, swords raised.
Nic cracked his neck and raised the broadsword that the man had given him. “I don’t mean to spoil your fun, but I think it is time for you to leave.” Nic said casually, hoping the weapon he held would do some good.
The demons hissed and stopped charging. "You are the one that carries the heart of warriors..." One said in a low tone.
Nic ****ed his head to the side. “Heart of the warriors? Never heard of it.” He said and slowly walked towards the demons, the sword held tightly in his hands.
The demons walked slowly towards Nic. "If you do not know what it is, we do not have to tell you." The other demon mocked.
“Fine by me.” Nic said. He jumped forward and knocked the head off of one of the demons, then thrust the blade into the chest of the other one. The demon that lost his head picked it back up and twisted it back on, then charged at Nic to avenge the other's death. Nic raised the sword and prepared to attack when he noticed that the blade had been melted off. “Dammit.” He said through clenched teeth. He threw what was left at the demon and then raised his fists. “Let’s dance, ugly.”
The demon caught the melted sword and squeezed, crushing it to metallic scraps. "Indeed we shall." It said, and charged at Nic with a stab.
Nic dodged to the side and kicked the demon’s leg, knocking it away and causing it to fall to the ground. “You don’t dance very well.” He said as he stomped on the demons head, crushing it. He stepped back. “Who else want a piece?” he called to the other demons.
The demons looked at Nicodemus, and then at their fallen comrades. Nic could almost swear that they seemed frozen in fear for a second, but that moment passed when they all charged at him.
Meanwhile, the man who had given Nicodemus his sword watched with widened eyes. "None of the demons were ever killed before..." He muttered to himself. "Who IS this man?"
Nic quickly grabbed one of the demons weapons, a long scimitar, the blade honed to a sharp point. “One man against an army of demon. Not really fair don’t you think?” He asked as he charged forward, slashing at the demons quickly.
The demons didn't have much time at all to react. Several were slaughtered on the spot, and those that tried to run were quickly cut down.
As the last demon fell to Nicodemus’ feet, the sword he held seemed to crumble, turning to dust and quickly vanishing as the demons did the same. Through the attack, only a few people had died, and a single man had been injured. “Well, that didn’t take long.” Nic said nonchalantly.
The man that had given Nic his sword walked out from his hiding place and quickly ran to Nic's side. "How did you do that? Those demons were invulnerable to our weapons... But you managed to kill them all.”
Nic stopped. He hadn’t even noticed that he was killing them. “I don’t know… I just did.” He said slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face.
The man thought for a second. "You should go to the shrine that's not far out of town. Our god should know what to tell you."
Nic shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt.” He said. “Where is it?”
"Take that path." The man pointed to a dirt trail that led out of town. "Go that way until you reach the temple... You'll know it when you see it."
“Thanks.” Nic said. He then turned and started to walk towards the path, a determined look on his face.
The man smiled to himself. "Good luck." He said quietly.
End
