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This is a novel in works, which means it will be editting several times as well as added to.
I'm basing it around xSpore Members, so gimme feedbackz :3

Fableknights

By Azkanan

Prologue: Bounties and Bandits

Oh those eyes, those eyes with burning hatred. Hatred for what, I had to ask myself. Power? Appearance? Rivalry? Jealousy? Doubtful.
Two men faced off in the middle of a small village, civilians all around watched from shadows and doorways, windows and alley-ways.
One of the men was an massively tall being with muscles the God of War would be envious of and a Sword the size of the Heavenwrath itself. He had a shaven bald head, but a big bushy beard to make up for it, massive rings of steel hung from his drooping earlobes.
The other man, much smaller in height and girth, appeared rather normal – weak even. He held a single sword, its tip hidden in the dusty dirt behind him, drew back. His hair was tied back in a ponytail that tickled at his spine.
“Gaah-haha!” Roared the monstrous opponent. He took a deep, deep swig from a waterskin, filled to the brim with booze. His head was tilted up and to the side, so he could keep an eye on his deceptive, little, weak opponent.
He threw the waterskin to the ground behind him, wiped away the dripping beer from his beard, then charged onwards with a roar and set windows rattling. His pounding feet shook the ground, dirt hopping up and down like a million exciting audiencemen.
The giant sword came overhead, crashing down towards the still-unmoved man.
At the last moment with a grimace, the defender side stepped, twirling out of harms way – the sword digging deeply into the ground.
The man ended his twirl, bringing his saber around to slash the giant in the back. A roar of pain and a spray of blood brought the man around weaponless, backslapping at the little one’s head – which seems to have disspeared.
Looking down revealed the man in a crouch, thrusting his sword up into the beast’s heart.

Oh, those eyes. Filled with… Pain. Filled with, anger. Filled with…emptiness.

The bandit slumped to the ground, Azkanan flitting to the side out of the crushing weight’s way. A cheer went up all around, villagers bursting from doorways and windows, waving and screaming cheers for the “Hero”.

Azkanan took his payment, then left the village.

***

"Ah, the hero returns, eh?” Snickered a man from behind a counter, never taking his eyes from the gold coins in-counting.
“Hey, pedro.” Azk replied, inspecting the new stock of armors and trinkets.
“That man came looking for you again, Azk. You really pissed him off this time.”
“Killdrone is a fool.”
“Either way, he wants his money back,” Pedro snickered again. “You shouldn’t have doublecrossed him. As for a heads up, and because I owe you, I’m going to let you know there is a bounty of five thousand gold coins on your head.”
Azkanan ran his fingers across the ridges in a certain gold and black armor-piece.
“Do not touch the goods!” Pedro abruptly screamed, looking up from the gold coins. He ran around the counter, pulled out a rag and wiped the ridge clean, “Do not touch!” He yelled at Azk’s face.
Pedro turned away to go back to his counting, but was choked as Azk grabbed him by the collar.
“Here’s the gold I owe you,” he laughed, handing him a handful of coins over the shoulder.
Pedro turned around to bargain for more, but he was gone.
“…bloody mercenaries…” He mumbled.

--

A few hours after Azk had left, a knocking came at the door.
Now, Pedro was just closing the store, but the love for a chance of a sale drove him on.
The knocking came harder, and as Pedro got up to unbolt the door a foot came blasting through, wood splintering across the room. A dark-leather gauntleted hand came through the hole, and ripped the bolt from the buckling.
In stepped a man dressed head to toe in thick leather and dark chainmail.
“Ah…Killdrone… Hello, how can I…help you?”
“Has he been?” Killdrone growled, impatient with useless games.
“Who?” Pedro asked innocently, waving his hands wide in a helpless gesture.
Killdrone walked across the room hastily, sending Pedro sprawling backwards into the counter.
The dangerous man leaned heavily over Pedro, wheezing his meat-ridden-breath over the shopkeeper.
“I won’t ask again!” He said, dangerously calm.
“I haven’t seen him since last month! Like I said befo-”
“Well! Isn’t that strange!” Killdrone roared, “I’v been informed he was seen here a few hours ago!” Killdrone grabbed Pedro by the scruff, lifted him into the air then threw him over the counter, snapping a handful of beautifully-carved spears.
“Oh no!” He screeched, piling the spears together.
Killdrone raised an eyebrow.
Pedro looked up, Killdrone stood by the black and gold armor, a dagger raised.
“No please!” Pedro yelled, getting to his feet and holding out an outstretched arm pitifully.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know! He, he, he came by, and gave me gold he owes me, then, then, I turned around and he was gone! That’s all I know, please, not that armor!”
Killdrone held the dagger aloft for a moment, thinking it over. The merchant sounded truthful enough, and he is probably telling the truth. Oh well.
The dagger came down, leaving a massive scratch mark, right shoulder to left hip.
Killdrone left the shop that night, a wailing Pedro behind and Azkanan watching from behind a chimney.
“Lucky I didn’t tell him where I was going…” He whispered, disappearing into the night.