Oxford's First Blood: Prelude to Roa's Demise

"Blimey... dey've been at it for 'ours now, 'aven't dey?"

In the musty dining area of a fish and chips shop, several police officers and civilians were barricaded in.
Outside, furred beasts growled and laid in wait. Devilish creatures; ghouls that looked like a cross between a boar and a beaver.

At the barricade of tables and stools and boxes, one officer pointed a golden staff at it. They rested. The beasts halted their onslaught, and seemed to be in reprieve. They would have been devoured already, if not for the timely intervention of a hero who brought them gifts.

This hero had slew the beasts who threatened to obliterate Big Greg's Hot Fish, and left for elsewhere in the night. He had left them a gilded staff, and instructed the most capable officer among them how to best use the weapon. A miraculous thing: the shining onyx at its end expelled lightning.

"M-Mommy... is that nice chap coming back for us?"
"I... I don't know, dear. But the Queen's coppers are here! I'm sure will be fine."

One of the officers chimed in, brave and chipper.

"Das right, lad! We'uh da finest men in Oxford. None of 'em bloody hellrats will be munchin' on us, not as long as Scotty over dere has dat confoundin' stick!"

The officer wielding the staff spoke with a shaky voice.

"O-Of course. As long as we're here. And we have the stick."

And on that cue, the growls grew in ferocity.
Officer and civilian alike braced themselves.
Soon they became howls.

"W-WOT'S GOIN' ON OUT DERE!? HIT DA DECK, MATES!"

Then, howls became whimpers.
And whimpers became silence.

At the barricade, a booming knock was heard.

"...'Ello? Who is it?"

The barricade did not hold.
A bang rang through ears, dust flew in front of eyes, and the flickering light of a bewildering staff blinked in the cloud.

As the dust cleared, an unsightly scene was seen by the survivors.
A bloodied figure rested a hand that seemed to be clad in darkness on the glowing staff.
Officer Scotty wasn't looking directly at him, only straight ahead at the direction he fired.
He slowly turned to see the towering figure's face; time appeared to stop in that moment.
The visage of a skull stared at him. It spoke in a grave voice.

"The staff... you are not fit for it. I shall be taking it."
"W-W-W-Wai-"

Before Scotty could even finish his stuttering word,
the dark being yanked the staff from his hand, causing him to stumble to the ground. The being began inspecting it, holding it to the light of a gaslamp.

The rest of the survivors were stunned. Through fear and shock and awe, they merely looked on.

The armored reaper finished his inspection, and dropped a blade he had at his side. He replaced it with the staff.
He turned to the onlookers.

"I am the Herald of the New World. I am Death. I came to Big Greg's Hot Fish for one reason; to take the treasure of cowards.
You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Hiding in the solace of a grand establishment instead of establishing yourself as heroes...
Scavenge my fallen blade, ratfolk.
I am kind; this given chance to survive is more than you deserve."

Officer Scotty attempted to speak once again.

"...What-"

An armored hand flew over his mouth.

"SILENCE, RAT-MAN. DO NOT SPEAK UNLESS SPOKEN TO."

The young child started crying.
The Herald pointed his new staff at him in response.

"CRYING IS NOT ALLOWED, EITHER."

He promptly stopped.
Finally, the Herald viewed the survivors, and singled out a shopkeep. A heavyset man.

"You... you are the one called 'Big Greg', correct?"
"Y-Yes, sir?"
"Very well. I require a meal. I am hungry for souls, yet fish will have to suffice."
"U-Uh... the ghoulies ate my stock... we're out."

The Herald paused.

"...I curse this establishment!
I curse the weakness of its defenders!
May you prove yourselves now, for in your current state, ratfolk, you will not survive the New World!"

Silence resonated throughout the shop.
The Herald turned, and began to leave.
Holding up a hand as he walked out, howls surged in the distance.

"Prepare yourselves-"

And the Herald himself was silenced... by none other than a vision.

His view was clouded, and in the distance, he witnessed a figure talking with the officers behind him.
Reassuring them, and gifting them. He wore strange clothes, and talked with a strange demeanor.

The vision ended as suddenly as it appeared.

"Familiar... he is an obstacle to my wish, yes?"

A cloudy wraith, barely perceivable, circled around his head. Whispers filled the shop, incomprehensible to all but him.

"...I see..."

The Herald turned to the normal people.

"There was a man here. Where did he go? Speak, now. Hurry."

Officer Scotty was busy picking up the heavy sword on the ground. He squeaked out an answer.

"H-He said he was going up the street, to help more people beset by the beasts... what do you need from him?"

The Herald turned away, and began to walk once again.

"I am going to destroy him."
"W-WHAT!? B-BUT HE-"

A flash of blinding lightning, thunder.
Silence.
Officer Scotty was no more.

"You have failed to survive. Your story has came to a close."

The rest of the folk were simply confused. Scared, of course, but mostly confused. An officer had simply vanished in front of them; the poor lighting disguised the ashes that would bring their confusion to conclusion.

Never breaking his stride, the Herald spared a few words more.
"Look alive, ratfools. The trials will be upon you at any moment."

And before a single survivor could respond, the Herald stepped out into moonlight, and blurred before vanishing.