Chaos reigned in Belltoll. Townsfolk scattered in all directions with festive Goblins in hot pursuit. A woman looked back over her shoulder in distress, only to trip on the hem of her skirt. Gleeful Goblins were immediately upon her, tearing away the fabric of her bodice to reveal plump breasts. She attempted to resist the creatures half her size but there were too many. They dragged her out of the acidic rain and into the cover of the thicket. The silhouette of their backs could be moving atop her in the shadows while her cries for aid went unanswered.

  Similar scenes occurred around the area with women captured by Goblins hauled into the woods, destined for an unfortunate fate. The Goblin eunuch Magus, spurred on by cruel jealousy of their intact peers began setting the town ablaze. Any man or woman caught received no mercy and was put to the torch. Goblins were not renowned for their restraint. A man covered in flames ran through the streets like a Human torch, spurred on and followed by a crowd of Goblins cackling with delight.

  Bodies littered the streets, Goblin corpses far outnumbering the inhabitants. That failed to deter their crazed bloodlust and perverse desires. A woman knelt in the mud, staring at the sky while praying in supplication. Her prayers went unanswered and filthy hands tore away her clothes and heaved her by her feet to join the others. The sound of smashing shutters echoed through Belltoll, punctuated by screams, Human and Goblin alike, and accompanied by maniacal laughter.

  The acidic rain began to sputter out, and that was when the dead began to rise. Skeletal and mummified hands reached from the earth, scooping aside mud to burrow onto the streets above. Undead crawled to their feet with weapons worn-with-age clutched in their grips and then began to cut down anything nearby that was living. The motionless corpses of Goblin and townsfolk started to twitch, staggering to their feet to join their new undead compatriots.

  Goblins fled individually and ganged together to surround and pummel the skeletal warriors. Swathes of Goblins were slain in the process, climbing back to their feet and now working for the enemy. One Goblin paused, blinking in confusion at his friend that he had stabbed in the back only a moment before rising back up and swinging a crude sword at his head. Townsfolk began to organise and gather together to form a ring of pitchforks and wood axes, with more and more people fleeing the burning town to join their circle.

  While all of this happened, Dink stood motionlessly confronting the Death Knight who appeared at the brass gates of the crypt. The undead preacher continued to drag Marcie towards the crypt, circumventing the Death Knight. It stepped forward to allow them passage behind it before casually sauntering towards Dink, bouncing a Morningstar mace off its armoured palm.

  Something’s not right. A Death Knight is born from an undead warrior through accumulated death energy of slaying at least a thousand living. They were great warriors during life and some of that experience passes over in death. But they don’t behave like this, arrogantly looking down on me…

  The preacher tugged the brass gates closed behind him as he passed. Marcie had grown silent in a blank-stared daze after Triston was swallowed underground. A pair of Goblins charged past Dink straight at the Death Knight while another holding a crude staff approached more cautiously.

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  The hulking warrior slammed his mace into the side of the first Goblin’s skull, crumpling its face and launching flesh and brain matter across the one next to it. The second Goblin possessed no fear as it made a suicidal dash straight at the warrior, right into a swing aimed at its ribcage, propelling it flying into the Goblin Magus preparing its spell. The Death Knight sauntered over to rest an armoured boot atop the Goblin pinned beneath the corpse of its companion.

  “Puny Goblins dare face me? How novel. I’m going to smash your brains into mush and drink them from your skull,” the Death Knight spoke, mercilessly stomping down to crush the Goblis Magus’s skull. Dink narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the Death Knight with a sneer. He glanced at the crimson vortex in the sky before replying.

  “Undead curse that only occurs in the night. The Three Sisters are still visible in the sky, using the moons to power your magick. Now, a Death Knight that behaves like a cocky street thug. A virgin sacrifice to end the curse. One last thing,” Dink stated, sniffing the air now the rain had stopped. “The stench of a rotting forest floor. You’re a Dark Fae intent on breeding the next generation. It’s quite the elaborate ruse.”

  “Impressive. The deception was necessary to prevent any unwanted interruptions during consummation,” the Dark Fae praised, freezing in his advance. “I admit that I underestimated you, Goblin.”

  “One question. Why require a virgin?” Dink asked with a smirk. “Don’t tell me. You’re afraid of a little experience exposing your lack thereof.”

  “Ack! What would you know? No man desires an unchaste woman!” the Dark Fae shouted, rising to Dink’s provocation.

  “I see that I was wrong. It’s that your manhood doesn’t match your stature, instead. My apologies,” Dink mocked, sensing the Dark Fae’s immaturity. “Why is it that it’s always the ones no one else wants who have the most to prove? Unless you plan on wedding the woman, I don’t think it should concern you. And clearly, it doesn’t. When push comes to shove, you’re already snatching another man’s seconds. Tsk, can’t even adhere to your own conditions. Pathetic.”

  “Argh!” the Dark Fae shouted in rage, wildly swinging the mace down at Dink’s head. “I, Melak, shall be the death of you this night, vexer!”

  Dink simply took a step back to allow it to pass and slam into the muck. Before the hulking warrior could recover from over-extending, Dink thrust his sword into his heavy-armour helm, wrenching his head back. The Dark Fae staggered backward, lifting the mace to regain his balance.

  “A lesson for you. Where the head goes, the body will follow,” Dink said, channelling mana through the Draconic runes along the length of the Dragonbone sword. Melak flinched in response, arcane runes illuminating the black armour obscuring his body. “An Attuned? Then who raised the dead and called the vortex in the sky?”

  He stopped thinking about it and leapt up while savagely slamming his blade into the side of Melak’s helm. The Dark Fae spun to absorb the impact, blindly swinging his mace in retaliation. Dink easily ducked with the large difference in size, barely reaching the imitation Death Knight’s waist in height.

  Unexpectedly, Melak didn’t turn back to confront him. Instead, choosing to charge in the direction Dink faced him, headlong at the antique brass gates. His immense size trampled them from their hinges and bent them under the force of his mana-infused footsteps as if fleeing for his life.

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