Harmony can be broken by the slightest intrusion. The finest piece of music can include one disconnected sound and people will only remember that break in flow. So it was that the town Elfinnes had its own discord sewn into its history. A time of madness and murder, planned and crafted by a troublesome individual. An individual who reveled in the madness of his creation, a man of chaos; the Trickster.
To bring a town to its knees takes an army. The people will defend their own and reason against the madness until it was doused like a flame that would build to an inferno. Yet, the Trickster knew who was the most weak and decided to play with them first. With evil intent, he danced his way through the streets to their home, to everyone’s interest. A jester was a sight to behold in times so dark.
Yet, the Trickster soon disappeared into the twisting alleys, eventually ending up at the doorstep of a troubled couples home. With nobody around to see the trickery begin, the jester picked the lock for the home and drifted inside. With delicate footsteps, where even the slightest sound was masked by the arguing from the floor above, the jester pranced to the dining table. Placing flowers, a sweet cake and note, his work was done.
Leaving the home before the couple could descend the stairs, the jester moved on towards his next target. As the yells from the house raised in volume, the jester danced between two peasants. With the thrust of a dagger and subtle placement, a bleeding peasant turned to find only another with a dagger in his hand. A mortal combat began, but the Trickster did not stay to enjoy the result.
Next was the blacksmith. The old knight who worked the forge spoke with a guard, while another surveyed the street. With a darting jump the jester entered the blacksmith, clutching one of the smiths swords he thrust it into the guard inside and danced out as the outside guard turned. The smith’s attention was caught at the same time, but in addition to the dying guard, he saw the living one draw his sword and charge towards him.
While the smiths family descended to aid the old knight, the guard called for reinforcements. By the time the Trickster rounded the corner, blood was spilt throughout the street, most of which not by his own hands. With incredible energy, he climbed atop one building and danced along the top, searching for his next target. With one misplaced step, he slipped down the roof and into the town square.
The Trickster’s powdered face twisted as a cruel smile spread across his lips. Joining the mass of people that crowded around stalls and tables, the jester’s blade jabbed and slashed. The wounds were mostly superficial, but the effect they created was powerful. Victims searched for men with knives, fights began. With so many eyes around the jester, he decided to sheathe the blade and turn to another tool of the trade.
With calculated gestures, small tablets were thrown into drinks and powders spread on food. Fast acting poison caused people to convulse and cry blood, horrifying people to their core and causing them to turn on the food stalls. The intense displays spread throughout the market, clouding peasants minds with fear and hatred. Where one took up arms to fight another, onlookers often tooks sides and joined the fight.
Bodies fell at the bouncing feet of the jester as his work was nearly done. The town was slowly being turned upside down, but then came the guards in an attempt to restore order. The Trickster set his eyes on the captain of the guard and laughed to himself as a cunning plan formed. Weaving amongst the crowd, the Trickster approached the captain of the guard. The jester’s face and attitude began to change to one of sorrow and horror.
The jester’s expression protected him as he fled the market, giving the captain no reason to suspect him. Once all eyes were off him, the jester made his way towards the civilian closest to the captain of the guard. With no need for caution and careful movement, the jester simply clutched the peasants hand around the spiked handle of a dagger and with lightning movement thrust it into the captain's neck.
Unable to remove his hand from the spokes which pierced his hand, the peasant was caught with a murder weapon in full-view of the guards. An explanation began to stammer on the peasants lips, but it didn’t matter. The guards struck at him, cutting him to pieces. With the law and the people turned against one another, a bloody battle ensued.
With so many reasons to fight, the town soon had blood spilt in every home, as the cruelty of man was awakened. A chaos unlike any other was created, a blood feud that would not end until the last man. The guards may have worn armour and swung sharper swords, but the people were many and would gladly die for those that they cared for. In all the commotion, not one thought on how it all began, but fought in the moment to survive and avenge the fallen.
Blame was so easily given, because in anger we are blinded. In anger, decisions are based on passion and hatred, instead of logic. The Trickster had created a dark illusion that clouded the minds of the simple and he watched from atop the buildings, laughing and giggling as lives were cut short, old and young. Wherever the fire seemed to dwindle, he would descend upon the streets once more and turn brother on brother.
It wasn’t long before the end was in sight. Revenge was taken, justice served and by the end of the day the town of Elfinnes was down to the last handful of dying peasants and guards. Being the only left able, the Trickster decided to finish his work personally. Once the last breath was taken, the Trickster discarded his blade.
No longer did he dance among the people, or smile like a jester should, but instead he wept as he walked through the town. Bodies surrounded him, blood covered his costume and even the white powder on his face had been rubbed off to reveal the very human face. Yet, the Trickster did not weep for the death of others, instead he mourned the end of his fun.