[MA]

right, before you read further, this story may eventually contain something that might offend you. not just bad language and violence, worse crimes.

i have had this idea running around my head for a while, and originally had it set in the present, but i decided it would be a hell of a lot more interesting if it was set in a past age. by the way, it isn't set on Earth, so don't get confused.

i'm gonna go easy on this one, and not do massive chapters like i have a tendency to do. i'm also going to take the description down a notch, i feel like i bog stories down too much with stuff like that.

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Prologue:

Welcome to a bleak world of strife, betrayal and injustice. It is a perverse world ruled by a backwards global monarchy. There are many lawless parts of this world, but the densely populated regions have ridiculous and sometimes conflicting laws. There isn’t a large amount of these laws, which could be considered as a blessing, but the laws that do exist are often petty and only formed for the Monarchy’s gain. This is a tale of many different people; how they cope, live and what troubles besiege them. This world is called Dostollin.

Chapter 1

Johnson lay on the cobbled street floor, letting the more sober men go through his pockets. He didn’t care at this moment in time. He had earned his drinking money down at the barracks for the day and had blown almost all of it, which came to about 11 gold pieces if his drunken mind was working right. He only had coppers left anyway, so these bastards wouldn’t be too happy.

The two men grunted to one another and left Johnson lying in the street, just outside of The Monarch’s Sword. It used to be called The Monarch’s Head, but the regional watchmen found it and deemed it too offensive towards the ‘great’ Monarch. Then another law was passed, stating that any landlord that owned a public house with a name the watchmen found offensive would have their property, stock and staff taken from them and given to the Monarchy (for them to do with as they wish), and as for the landlord; he would either be draughted into the nearest barracks or forced to serve time in jail for his ‘offense’.

Johnson was cut off from these thoughts when he heard a horse and carriage travelling down the dark street, above the muffled shouts and drunken chortling from within the pub. He felt his fingers crack as the carriage wheels simply rolled over them, the driver not caring for a man on the street. Dull pain stretched down his arm and Johnson let out a drawn out wail.

“Bastard!” Johnson yelled at the withdrawing carriage, knowing he would get no reply. Now he would have to work tomorrow with, what he assumed were, broken fingers.

Half an hour later, he got himself up, not daring to move his fingers in any way, simply holding them to his chest. He staggered home where he burst through the door, not caring if he woke his wife or son. After all, it was his home, he was the one that paid the Monarchy so he could reside in it. He walked over the thresh hold, and into a tiny room where his heavily pregnant wife was asleep in a narrow bed. Well, she looked like she was asleep.

Johnson stumbled towards the bed and collapsed on top of it, beside his wife. He was already falling asleep when he heard Mary say;

“You stink.”

Johnson simply grunted in reply. He couldn’t give a shit. That’s when Johnson realised he had either pissed himself in the street, or had lay in some dog shit. Either way, he couldn’t give a shit.

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if you have any questions about it, just post them here.