A thick veil of fog rolled into the valley, blotting out the sun and darkening the forest below. The trees, dead and rotting, creaked and groaned as the footsteps grew and faded. The ground was sickly and damp, covered in decaying leaves. Nothing stirred in the dark forest.
As he continued down the cobble path, moss slickening his steps, Mer Burlyhands couldn't help but feel watched. He passed by the ruins of a once great kingdom. Reduced to rubble and dust by long forgotten evils. Mer read about this ancient kingdom in a history book once. Proud, glorious... forgotten.
The silent woods yielded a sound just then, a sound that came from no human. Mer saw it in the distance then, the Death of a once great civilization. A behemoth of death, of dark experiments gone awry in the dungeons of those who had power, but could do nothing but lust for more.
The giant winged demon, the Behemoth of Alder, moved ever so closer. A good eight times larger than Mer, it dwarfed the ruins and trees around it. As it got closer to Mer, it's eyes lit up in a firey anger. It knew someone was here to challenge it, to ruin it, to end the legend stewed from mother's mouths to children's ears.
Mer Burlyhands grabbed his massive warhammer from it's sheath on his back, and drew it forward slowly, both hands gripping the massive handle. They don't call him Burlyhands for nothing.
The Behemoth roared, shaking the ground all around it, decaying tree's falling to the earth and massive ruins collapsing all around it as it charged towards Mer.
Mer raised his hammer, and readied to take on the creature that ended the glory of thousands.
So much for being a simple carpenter.
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