TW: Blood, Violence etc
She's dead. His wife was gone. They had murdered her.
His wife's lifeless corpse lay bloodied buy the tree.
He choked back a sob and cradled her one last time.
Villagers gathered around the broken man, horrified and heartbroken.
"Get out of the way." a gruff voice bellowed. Soldiers swarmed the scene.
It was a massacre. The villagers didn't stand a chance.
Everyone he knew, his friends, his family. They were all gone.
The man screamed out of rage and despair, before he charged towards the soldiers.
╾╶╴╶╴╶╴♰╶╴╶╴╶╼
"They're here."
Lennox darted swiftly around the room, gathering all the tools and weapons he could see.
"What is it, Len? Who's here?" O'Malley, the barkeep, asked.
Despite the sense of urgency Lennox radiated, O'Malley continued serving people, having been used to drunken lunatics ranting in his tavern.
Lennox huffed in frustration and dashed towards the old man, frustrated with being disrupted.
"The Grim is here sir, I can feel it. He's already massacred the neighbouring villages and we'll be next if we don't hurry. We need to defend ourselves." He spoke quickly, not wanting to waste precious time.
The tavern fell silent, all chatter fell to a complete stop. Immediately, the villagers started shouting in unison.
"Why would he come here? We have nothing!"
Lennox sighed, irritated with all the questions.
"He doesn't care about our riches. He massacres for fun. He gets enjoyment from this, watching us run around like headless chickens. But enough talking. We need to get ready to fight. I don't want to die here." He spat out, seething with rage.
He was pissed. Pissed at the villagers for being blubbering idiots and pissed at the monster that is The Grim.
Why was he cursed with this damned life, running from a ghost who attacks in the night? Why him?
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