So here’s the first part of Chapter 6.5 aka what happens to Wolf after he gets thrown off the battlements. Next part of Chapter 6.5 will be some back story on our favourite friends - The Forsaken Few ;)
Proud Author of the Tale of Chivalry.
And a salty bastard too.
Posts made by b00ger Knight
RE: A Tale of Chivalry.
RE: A Tale of Chivalry.
‘WOLF!’ I heard barely as I was flung from the battlements, time slowed as I fell to down onto the battlefield. I turned my gaze to the war in front of me, seeing both the alliance and the Grimm Legion fighting to their last breath. I looked up at the once clear, blue sky and saw only darkness and an onslaught of blood like rain.
I fell to the ground in a rather undignified way in a pile of bodies and slipped into a large pool of a mixture of black and red blood. I lay unmoving in the blood, unable to move a single muscle as pain and agony streaked through my body. I unsuccessfully attempted to move my hand to my many wounds and only succeeded in causing more pain as I sat in the field of blood. They were approaching. A group of maybe ten, maybe eleven soldiers of the Grimm Legion, their boots caked in a sickly brown mixture of mud and blood. As they ran their ravaged faces twisted with the effort, eyes wild, legs sprawling as they lumbered towards me like a drunken motley crew.
Slowly, a thick, humid gust of air slid against my face and misted my breath. The realisation of the fact that I was outnumbered, and could well be outmatched hit me like an arrow. The savages still ran towards me and I was alone. Azrael wasn’t by my side. The sounds of distant battle roared in my ears, I could see my comrades lying dead on the floor and I felt an overwhelming pang of pain build in my gut as all I could do was sit and watch the light die out in their eyes. It struck me just then how vicious real war was. This was not a bar fight. This was not training with the white warrior or sparring with Oscar, no. This was hard and slow and exhausting. I had barely even been fighting twenty minutes and I already had countless new scars. The slap of wet mud brought me back to attention, and I readied myself for the impending battle, closed for my eyes for a brief few seconds and breathed in hard then exhaled heavily before standing up. I reached towards a dead solider and took his weapon which was similar to my old bardiche.
I opened my eyes again and focused my gaze towards the soldiers and gripped the weapon tight, I was ready for this I thought to myself as they neared closer and with a fierce cry I leapt into the fight. The first man at arms barely had time to recognise the blow to his skull before he was on the ground. Like a mass of dying ants the others stumbled over him, not even acknowledging the death of their own men, they continued to push on at me like an emotionless machine devoid of all compassion or feeling, only the intent to kill.
Unfortunately, my desire to kill them was much stronger. After ploughing through a couple more infected, one of them gained the intelligence to attempt to hit me from behind. I felt the rush of wind behind me and swung the blunt side of my bardiche around and clomped him on the head before his sword even made contact with me.
Snarling, he brought back his arm and slashed downwards, but my trusty bardiche was already there and with one swoop I amputated the monster’s hand and he dropped his blade in a blind fury and charged at me. I anticipated this and with a simple arc of my weapon I decapitated him in one movement which sent him staggering back before collapsing to the floor with black vile blood pooling around out of its body.
I thought that was it for the moment but then a blade cut into my torso. Not deep, barely even enough to draw blood. But it hurt and with that it filled with me with anger for being so careless. I raised my bardiche, ready to brutalise whatever had disturbed my thoughts. Another blade slashed across me then another. Now they were all cutting away, slashing, stabbing, cutting.
Pain was coming from all different directions and I panicked, squirming in the mass of dead bodies.
“Don’t just let them attack you. You do that, and you’re practically dead. Keep your guard up, its the only way to win a fight without dying halfway, apprentice.” Azrael’s words from our very first day of training shot through my mind. I raised my bardiche again and then immediately the blows were stopped, and I felt adrenaline burst through the pain in my system.
I roared, the loudest I had ever roared, and launched my bardiche into my strong arm. Swirling it around in a dance of death, I dodged in between blades, hacked off limbs, beheaded, stabbed, slashed everywhere and screamed in a moment of true bloodlust.
Then the air settled and all that lay before me were a sea of blood and broken bones.
Drained, I collapsed, using my bardiche to steady myself. “Wha- What are you?” I looked up, eyes slack and glazed, to see an extremely slender man, clad in light black leather armour and wrapped in a midnight cloak. The man threw down his hood to reveal a face that one day might’ve been handsome, but now was ruined by the infection.
His eyes were pure black, no whites or irises, and as I looked up into them I felt a sense of dread. Countless scars lined his bald head. A gleaming sabre hung at his belt, the only thing not corrupted. I used my polearm to stand up, and looked him dead in the eye. “I am the white wolf, the man that has just killed your entire squadron.” Narrowing my eyes into a scowl, I threw up my weapon and caught it in my strong arm. “And I’m going to kill you.” My opponent raised his sword and held it at his side, smiling. “Come and get it then, White Wolf.’ Slowly, I stepped out of the ditch, evaluating my opponent. He held his blade with a level of trust that I had only seen with Azrael and his halberd. This would not be easy. My emerald eyes met his black ones. In an instant he was upon me. He charged, slashing a light speed strike aimed straight for my throat. Using the blade of my bardiche I deflected it, and the man lashed out with a strong kick, sending me backwards.
Giving me no time to recover, he jumped and spun sideways, extending his blade in a flash of movement. On the first spin, the blade cut through my armour as if it was paper, ruining the Vikings cross on my chest. Like a cat, he landed gracefully and stabbed the blade towards my heart. Before it could connect, I slammed the hilt of my bardiche into his jaw and he stumbled backwards, dazed. I took the opportunity to slash for his ribs. His armour stopped the blow, but he was still thrown to the side like a ragdoll.
Painfully and slowly, he skidded to a halt beside a tree, slamming into it and gasping. Angered, I charged, ready to end his life. I slashed for his legs, but he jumped high, avoided the blow and vaulted off the tree and kicked out. I blocked the attack with my fists but still painfully my head snapped backwards, and I crumpled to my knees, recoiled from the sheer power of the blow.
Desperately I searched for my weapon, and the man laughed and stabbed for my throat. I ducked down low and charged into him, tackling him off of his feet. We landed with a thud, and I fought to press his sabre to the ground with my free hand. Raising my bloodied fist, I slammed it into his chin. The force of the blow rattled my knuckles and sent waves of pain up my arm, but I still raised my fist again. He grinned with newly broken teeth, and manipulated his sabre towards me.
The man stabbed for my face, but I leaned out of his reach. Sprawling, he kicked me backwards into the tree and off of him, then brought back his leg and slammed it into my chin. He laughed as I fell sideways, slamming into the mud. Ignoring his laugh, I pushed myself off of the ground and stared at a small puddle of clear water. My reflection stared back up at me.
Auburn hair, short on the sides and long on top, A thin face, Green eyes, The eyes of my father. Memories flashed behind those eyes but I pushed them away, instead focusing on my new scar as it bled into the water, discolouring it. “Ha. You are more of a challenge then I would’ve hoped.” I lifted my bleeding head and grinned. “I’m not going to die today.” The man grinned. “No, maybe not but there is a fate worse than death. I, Felonious, the commander of the seventh regiment, will see you dead. One way or the other” Felonious rose his blade high, roaring as he did so. I braced myself for the impact, closing my eyes and breathing deeply. But then Azrael’s words drifted into my mind.
“I’ve come to like you, white wolf. Don’t you die on me now” With a renewed fury I stood, opening my eyes… to see that Felonious had plunged sword into his belly. Groaning with the pain, he tore it out.
When his sabre was visible again, It was coated with black blood. My blood ran cold at the realisation of what he was going to do. He was going to try to infect me. Turning around slowly, I spotted my bardiche, pinned up against the side of a tree. Assembling myself for the fight of my life, I picked it up. (Paragraph) “For Azrael.” I whispered. “For father.” This time I spoke out load. " FOR BARUFEL!" I screamed, and charged, the wind at my heels, parrying a weak slash, sending the sub stench to the side in a mixture of blood and sparks. I snarled and pushed against him, slamming the wooden hilt of my weapon into his throat. Felonious gasped and slashed ferociously towards my face, and I kicked him out of range. Accelerating my swing, I slammed my weapon into his side. This time, however, it cut through his armour and into his flesh. Instantly he cried out, agony wreathing his words, and as I tore my weapon free I watched his armour crumple. With a quick snap of my arms, I stabbed my blade through the middle of his chest, as quick as I possibly could to avoid leaving myself open.
The blow made him stumble backwards, and in a last ditch attempt to infect me he slammed his arm down, the blow strong yet slow, and I casually raised the old weapon to deflect it… But the wood began to creak and splinter and time seemed to slow down as the blade embedded itself in the weapon. Pain ricocheted throughout my arm. Slowly, I tore the sabre out of the weapon and threw it sideways, picking up the bladed half of my bardiche. Sadly, I looked at the weapon I had only just starting using, and kicked Felonious over onto his back. Gasping in pain, he looked up at me.
“You’re a fool. You will-” I cut off his pathetic rambling by slamming the blade of my weapon into the middle of his face. Black blood gushed from his wounds, and he screamed, thrashing out his legs. I released my weapon from his face, and with a sickening thud, sent it back into his head. This time he didn’t scream and all that happened was a twitch in his fingers and I didn’t stop. I wasn’t going to stop until his face was utterly destroyed.
RE: Waiting on Boogerknight
So I was on the verge of posting 8.5 then I read through it and was kinda disappointed.
Apologies folks. I will continue working on it tonight and hopefully post it tomorrow.
I am legit so excited to get back into this. I’ve been distracted by so much and this story is my legacy.
Thank you all for the continued support.
And as always.
Stay Tuned Guys.
RE: Waiting on Boogerknight
So, after many months of teasing.
I am finally prepared to tease you even more. I am putting the finishing touches on chapter 8.5 and will post it tonight.
Hopefully it will make up for the horrendous wait.
Jon snow is gatelo
RE: Plebs (EU) Official Team Thread
@C4KE-from-SP4C3 let me guess, Error wasn’t there to sit you down, because clearly he would have turned the tide of the war
Error actually was there pal, and he got smacked by yours truly each time he came out. In his defence I’m sure he’s extremely rusty from playing for honor.
Was a good war though, No salt for a change. I can’t tell if you’re being spiteful or not. But if you are, that’s not cool man.
RE: XCCC Looking For New Members (Application Thread)
@b00ger-Knight i am a member of the xenoverse cool candy club.
I rest my case.
If you have any further questions. Don’t hesitate to contact us through xbox or private message. Otherwise, I see no further reason to keep this enquiry going.
I consider this matter closed.