Incepet

Amidst Chaos

A cold, foggy morning enveloped the battlefield, hot breath expelled through dented, faded armor. Piercing gold and jet-black stripes hung from torn, blood-soaked clothes scattered across the field. Sir Einar knelt, gripping his broadsword with one hand, plunged into the ground. He breathed heavily, steam billowing off his body, impairing his vision through his armored helm. Despite his exhaustion, he readied his sword, gripping the blade tightly as a deep, daunting voice echoed through the mist.

"By the strength of Grimstone, heed my call! Come forth and fortify my arms with the fortitude and bite of obsidian!"

The wind whistled toward the knight as black lightning sprang from his hands into the weapon, fortifying its make and edge. He stood, preparing for battle. Facing him were three foes, each a testament to their deadly skill: a skirmisher, lithe and quick, circled to his left; a berserker with a massive double-headed axe roared to his right; and a swordsman in light armor stood directly ahead, his eyes cold and calculating.

The skirmisher, light on his feet, darted forward with speed and agility. His twin daggers flashed in the moonlight as he aimed for the gaps in Sir Einar's armor. Einar anticipated the attack, his senses heightened. With a swift turn, he parried the incoming blows, the sharpness of his blade screaming against the skirmisher's skin. The assailant recoiled, eyes wide with surprise and pain.

No sooner had the skirmisher attacked than the berserker charged with a thunderous roar. His double-headed axe, a monstrous weapon of death, swung in wide arcs, aiming to crush Einar with sheer brute force. The ground trembled with each of the berserker's powerful steps. Einar stepped back each time, narrowly missing the axe by mere centimeters.

Einar braced himself, his fiery blade meeting the berserker's axe in a clash of steel and magic. Sparks flew as the weapons collided, the durability of Einar's sword cracking the metal of the axe. The berserker, undeterred by the failure in his steel, pushed harder, his strength overwhelming. Einar, however, was unyielding. He twisted his body, using the berserker's momentum against him, and brought his blade down in a fiery arc.

The berserker staggered, the razor's edge of the sword slicing through his armor. With a final, mighty swing, Einar struck the berserker down, the magic of his blade thrusting through his foe like a hot knife through butter.

The skirmisher lunged at Einar once more, attempting to capitalize on the berserker's distraction. He narrowly missed Einar's neck. Einar then pressed the advantage, his blade a blur. The skirmisher's defenses crumbled under the relentless onslaught, each strike growing more desperate. With a final, decisive slash, Einar's sword cleaved through the skirmisher's defenses, leaving him defeated on the ground.

The swordsman in light armor was the last to face Einar. He approached with measured steps, his eyes locked onto Einar's blade. Unlike his fallen comrades, he did not rush into the fray. Instead, he circled Einar, looking for an opening, his own sword at the ready.

Einar, his breath steady, watched the swordsman with unwavering focus. The two warriors clashed, their blades ringing out in a deadly symphony. The swordsman was fast, his strikes precise, and his movements fluid. But Einar's sword held an edge that mere skill could not match.

As the duel progressed, the swordsman began to falter, the relentlessness of Einar wearing him down. Einar disarmed his opponent with a deft maneuver, sending the swordsman's blade flying through the air. The final strike came swiftly, Einar's sword slicing through the fog, leaving the swordsman defeated at his feet.

Einar, exhausted but standing, looks around at the surrounding chaos when he gets bashed from behind, launching his sword out of his hands and throwing him to the ground. Hearing a ringing in his ears, he flips to supine, seeing a foot soldier gripping a shield bearing the banner of House Reikar of Stormguard. The soldier flaunts a war axe before lunging at Einar, who rolls out of the way, the axe barely missing him. Einar grabs the soldier's arm, pinning it to the ground. He digs his foot into the soldier's hip, throwing him off balance and dropping him to the ground. Einar grabs the shield, jumps on the soldier in full guard, and pulls the shield down with all his might, using the shield's edge to bash the soldier's head in. bash. Bash. BASH. BASH! Until the soldier's head opens like a fresh watermelon from the Southard Islands.