Blood: Tears of Darkness

Orda Rudochfie stopped on his dark horse with a cautious look. The surrounding trees looked violet in the bluish moonlight.

After listening to something for a while, Orda jerked his horse again to walk without hurry. Many times his eyes flickered to the edge of the path he passed.

Movement in the bush made Orda stop again. The horse snorted and neighed softly. Orda pulled a double-edged ax that he passed to his back. The object's handle was rather long and silvery. Each blade has a roaring tiger sign.

“Whoever you are, come out.” Orda said; his voice is firm and calm. But a drop of sweat seemed to drip on his forehead.

The scrub shrubs again. A branch broke and a few seconds later the bushes parted; revealed a tall man in a black robe and blue mask.

Other figures with almost the same appearance began to appear one by one from behind bushes or trees; some jumped down from the tree itself.

There are about a dozen of them. Each of them carried a weapon similar to the handled black cone. Orda knows what that weapon is. The Sword of the Stake, people called it.

The black gang surrounded Orda, while the horse neighed nervously. Understanding seemed to be created in the eyes of the beleaguered.

“What makes you think that I deserve to be followed and surrounded like this?” Orda said stiffly as he looked at one of them who first appeared.

“What makes you think we can't stop you here?” the big man asked in his deep, cold voice.

Orda's eyes narrowed. His horse grunted in panic and he tried to calm his horse down.

“You, Lor people, have never felt enough to give suffering to others,” hissed Orda sharply. “For whatever's in this world, move!”

Someone chuckled and mocked. “Or what, coward?”

The big man took a step forward; looked like the leader of the mob. He put his left hand in his pants pocket. The man's right hand reached out as if he wanted to ask for something.

“We know you have something, Vocaship Peas,” said the man. His voice was still as cold as the Sea of ​​Death. “Give me that thing and you are free to go. Alive.”

“As you can see, dark leader.” Orda grinned. “I only carry axes, clothes and robes that I wear. Why do you want these petty things too?”

“Zanxer.” The enemy calls an object furiously. “You know very well what that is, damn White man! Give it to me, or you will die!”

“I'm not willing to die.” Orda grinned again, his expression looking odd under the blue moonlight. “And I'm sorry I don't have the thing you're talking about. Just go to hell, weirdos!”

The big man jumped towards Orda and struck his strange Stake Sword. His movements are very fast and so sudden. Orda parried it with an ax; makes a strange clang because of the impact of both.

 However, the sudden attack was too shocking for Orda to make him fall from his horse.

He snorted in pain, but immediately stood up even though his body was a little unsteady. The horse jumped, then ran off somewhere.

“I guess I know where the hell you mean, coward.” The enemy smiled coldly without feeling. He turned to his other friends. “What about the idea of ​​looking for hell in the heart of the White?”

Eleven people armed with Stake Swords invaded together, accompanied by a compact cry that sounded oddly in the silence of the forest. Orda parried several attacks from them with fast movements. The strange sensation caused by the collision of two different types of weapons made Orda's arm hurt from time to time.

In the third minute Orda struggled to swing his ax again. But the ax stopped in mid-air as he suddenly jerked forward.

White blood gushed out of his mouth. He looked down. The last thing he saw was the tip of a black cone that pierced his chest. The stake sword was forcibly drawn and Orda fell down. The hole left by the weapon hissed as if burned.

The gang searched for something in the dead Orda's body. When finished, one of them shook his head at the big man. The man said nothing, but the look in his eyes hardened and his hands clenched.

“They changed plans, apparently,” hissed the big man annoyed.

“But our Argas say that this Daga will pass the Moa Forest to Rovega,” said another.

The big man looked down and looked at the dead Daga below him, as if the Daga named Orda was just a caterpillar that was accidentally trampled.

“It's true,” the big man said quietly. His eyes are shiny blue and white patterned. “Too bad that stupid Argas didn't say that there would be 'two' Daga sent by Vocaship.”

The big male colleagues knew that poor Argas' life would stop shortly. They have failed to get what they are looking for.

But, as people know about the reputation of this organization: they will never stop.