D'arc

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A warrior and his story

Submitted: December 17, 2008

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Submitted: December 17, 2008

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The voices of the crowd fell quiet once he stepped into the light. His heavy steal shoulder pads shook when he strolled into the center. The sun light glimmered off his silver breast plate. He lifted his left hand and ran his fingers through his thick main and gave the crowd an evil stair. His grip tightened on his weapon of choice the morning star. Six spikes attached to a steal ball with a two foot handle. The warrior slammed his left hand into his chest and gave out a roar. He watched as the crowd shook in fear, a slight grin showed on his battered face. The gate to the right of him began to clank and groan. He looked into the sky and the words freedom came to his mind. The gate was half way up, the hellion’s scraped their way out and spead toward him. Their blood battered hair danced in the wind with their charge. Drool filled the corners of their long mouths, all teeth showing scared the crowd.

The warrior turned his head to see the advancing evil dogs. He stood unmoving; his fingers kept tightening and loosening the grip on the weapons handle. The leading hellion leaped into the air at him, he swung his arm out wide and slammed the morning star into the hellion’s ribs in mid air, and he brought the mace into the ground along with the dead hellion. He spun on his heal and the second hellion leaped at him. His free hand grabbed a hold of its neck and violently twisted, breaking its fragile neck. He rose to see the final hellion in full charge. Still holding the limp dog in his large hand he waited. The dog zinged zaged toward him. The dog increased its speed; the man’s eyes fallowed its every move. His grip tightened around the dead dog’s neck, he spun, the hellion jumped at him with its jaws aimed for his exposed neck. The sight of flesh made the dog’s mouth water. The man swung the dead dog into the leaping hellion’s body, knocking it from its path. He let go and gripped his mace with both hands and lifted it high over his head and let out a thunderous roar and crushed the hellion’s head underneath the spikes of his mace.

The warrior slammed his left hand into his chest three times and with each time his roars grew louder. The gates groaned once again. His eyes shifted to them, he squinted his eyes in anger. He hated orc’s, his anger grew. He tilted his head to one side and cracked this neck and did the same on the other side. He took off running, his mace flailing off to the right off him. His armor shook with every anger fill step he took, his face showed the death to come for anyone or anything that is in his way. He counted 15 orc’s and yelled good olds to me. His words shook the orc’s in their boots. Some foolish orc’s charged him. The bravest one took an elbow to the face and was soon after trampled by the warrior. He crushed the chest of the next one in line with his mace, he spun and picked up its blade with his free hand and separated the next ones leg from its body with the heavy blade. He didn’t even slow his pace; his eyes raised to the next to die. The orc stumbled backward and crawled away. He sprinted to the pitiful creature and not missing a beat he shoved the blade into its spine. He felt the blade dig itself into the ground.

Letting out a roar he swung his morning star fending off the blood thirsty blades aimed for him. Again the blades came flying in. He rolled to his right kicking out his foot and knocking an orc to the ground. This time the blades came to close for comfort. His face grew more unpleasant; he stopped playing with the orc’s. He felt a blade bounce off his shoulder pad. He gripped his mace with both hands and shoved it into the air knocking away the blades as he rose. He let his mace rest at his side, he tilted his head to the side and took a deep breath and looked at every single orc in front of him. His expression on his face struck fear in his opponents. Like a strike of lightning he had slammed his mace into the orc to his right. The mace priced the orc’s skull. Its legs fell limp but the mace held the orc up right until the warrior violently shook the mace free. The other orc’s were startled by the sight. The closest jumped when its comrade’s body hit the ground. The man grabbed the orc’s head that jumped with his free hand and slammed his forehead into its nose. He spun all the way around to the right breaking the orc’s ribs with his mace that was to left of him. The orc dropped to its knees and begged for forgiveness. The warriors face grew grimmer as he wined up his mace in the air for a powerful blow. The mace crushed the poor orc’s face and ended its life before its body hit the ground. The warrior placed his boot in the orc’s side to free his mace. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a blade aimed for his side. He threw his mace into his left hand and reached out with his right hand at the blade. He grabbed the orc’s hand while shifting his weight to move away from the blade. The orc looked down at the warrior’s hand and wondered how. But it was too late the warrior kicked at its knee, popping it out of socket. The orc fell and let go of the blade. The warrior flipped the blade in his hand and cut the orc’s throat as it was falling. He looked up to see the other orc’s running for their lives; he felt a hand grab at his boot. He looked down and saw the dieing orc; he kicked it in the face and started to walk after the feeing orc’s.

The sun was blackened out by storm clouds. Within seconds the rain began to poor down upon everything. The blood on the warrior washed off, his hair stuck to his face and the dirt turned to mud. With every step the warriors heavy steal boots sunk into the mud, he had to struggle to free them. He struggled to keep hold of his heavy morning star in the rain. The orc’s banded together for their last stand. The warrior stood still just a few feet away awaiting their attack. The orc’s howled and roared and banded their weapons together. The warrior took no heed he was unmoving. The orc’s charged in the sludge. With every step they took the warrior planed his attack. 9 to 1 he thought, lightning flashed and filled the area with light. The orc’s blinked and the warrior was gone. The orc to the far left got his mace slammed into his forehead. The lighting stuck again and the light filled the area once more. The orc’s saw their dead friend and stiffened their battle stances. A groan came from the rear, another met the same fate. They franticly looked around for the warrior but he wasn’t to be seen. This mace slammed into the mud. The orc’s fallowed the sound with their eyes to see death starring right back at them.

The warrior was holding two short blades in each hand which were resting at his sides. His head was tilted forward so the only thing the orc’s could make out were his eyes. He threw his right blade into the mud and undid his shoulder pads and dropped them into the mud. Fallowing shortly after was his breast plate. His shirt was dry but now was weighted down by the rain. He stuck his hand into the mud and pulled his blade back out. He rolled his hands and charged. He flouted through the mud and met his first victim. His right blade went into the orc’s knee cap and this left slide between its breast plate and pierced its lung. The orc dropped gasping for air. He rolled in the mud to the right and shoved his left blade into an unaware orc’s neck. A blade came at him and he let go of his blade and dived out of the way. He rose and kicked the orc in the chest knocking it over and another one with it. A blade sliced his back and he dropped to his knees. The words get up rang in his head. He did so and gripped a sword that was in the mud and flung it wide while rolling in the mud. The flimsy attack hit its target cutting a line across the attacking orc’s face. It grabbed at its face and fell to the bloody mud. The warrior rose and held the dagger upside down in his left hand with the sword in his right with the sword held behind him with the dagger in front. He waved with the dagger for the 6 orc’s to attack him. They did so; he parried a blade with his dagger and slashed with his sword hitting his target in the neck. He stabled wildly with his dagger at an orc’s chest. The orc tried desperately to keep his blood inside of him as he fell to the mud. The warrior turned to his right to block a hammer with his sword. The blow was strong and knocked him to one knee. He rolled toward the orc and underneath him and cut his legs with his dagger dropping the orc to the ground. He pulled him self on top of the orc and with crushing force pushed the dagger into its skull. An orc gripped the back of his shirt and attempted to through him but was unable to due to the warrior slid his blade into its stomach. The warrior fell back to the ground. Two left he said to himself as he tried to stand his legswobbled in pain.

“Come on!” He shouted.

One of the orc’s took off running, but the other stood still. The orc took one step forward and stopped suddenly. The warrior jabbed his sword into its exposed neck.

“I am too tired to play games with you,” he said gabbing at his side.

He tried to chase the orc but he slipped in the mud. The orc came over and lifted its sword into the air and took aim for the warriors back. The warrior grabbed the orc’s boot and jerked. The orc slipped and fell to the mud. The man punched at the orc’s groin and said “I’m sorry but its goanna be me or you and I’m not dieing today!”

The warrior pulled him self in the mud and slowly rose. The orc some how did the same.

“Fair fight?” the warrior said dropping his sword to the ground.

The orc nodded and raised his fists. He was the first to strike making contact with the warriors shoulder. He wobbled backward and grunted and unleashed a brash of punches to the orc’s chest and then an elbow to the cheek. The orc fell to the left into the mud. The warrior swayed almost falling over from his aggression. The orc place its hand in the mud to lift its body off the ground but failed and fell face first back into the mud. The warrior was hunched over trying to breathe. The orc rose once more and stood on wobbly legs. The warrior raised his fists again and awaited the attack. The orc came on strong and flung with its right hand only to miss and get a strike in the ribs. It launched another attack this time connecting with the warriors jaw.

The warrior fell forward on top of the orc knocking them both to the ground. They laid there for some time both exhausted. The orc was the first to move, he tried to hit the warrior in the side but his hand buckled under itself. The warrior slowly rose up and slammed his elbows into the orc’s face. The orc grunted and tried to block. The warrior hardly could make a fist with his hands but he slammed them into the battered orc anyway. After sometime the warrior’s hands just slid off the orc. His hands fell into the mud. His fingers felt something hard; he grippeda rock with both hands and lifted it over his headwith his last ounce of strength. The orc fought desperately to stop him. He pushed his hand into the warriors face and his fingers in his eyes. The warrior screamed as he slammed the rock onto the orc’s face. The orc cried out in pain, once more the rock came down. The orc’s hand fell from the warriors face but the rock rose into the air again and again. Pain shot up the warrior’s arms and the rock fell into the mud next to him. The warrior looked at the orc’s crushed face and he rolled off him and lay in the mud. He could feel the rain on his face, it was letting up. He was grasping for air as he lay dieing. He rolled to his knees, lifted one leg up and placed his hands on his knee and stood. He saw his morning star and he wobbled to it. He gripped it with his right hand and said “I’ll see you bustards in hell and I can’t go with out this.”

He plunged face first into the mud still holding his beloved weapon.


© Copyright 2020 Megiddo. All rights reserved.

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