Knights of the Nine - Beginning of the End

Chapter 4: The Knights Reborn

"Shut ye fuckin' mouth, Grob!"

"Nay, You fuck! I want me blade back in me hands, now! Bloody cunt!"

"Ye regret sayin' 'cunt' to me!"

Just as a buffed man threw a sword up into the air, a horse rode down the road.

"Quit ye fightin'. We got a wanderer!"

The group charged out from their camp and tossed an axe at the horses legs. The horse fell to the group, leaving the man atop of the horse onto the ground. The group of men killed off the horse and pulled out the man.

The man struggled with these bulky beasts, tugging and reaching for a sword of his own. A man in a huge fur coat kicked the man in the face.

"Get him to ye tent, Grugg" One said before the man faded away.

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Derek flung himself up, looking around as he noticed he was in a tent. His forehead wet, he rubbed it and saw blood on his hand. Derek got up and took a cloth and placed it on his head. Patting his wound, drawing blood away.

The tent flab flew open as a big man walked in, he wore only a robe.

"Nice ta' see tha' pretty boy woke."

"Where am I? Who are you?" Derek stammered.

"Don' waste ye breath, lad," The man went and sat down. "Ye'll need tha' fer later."

Derek lifted an eyebrow. He walked over to the tent flab but was stopped by the big man.

"Wouldn't go out there yet. The boys out there will eat ye up."

"Why?" Derek turned around.

"I shan't be the one ta' tell ye 'bout tha'. Tha' should be thy chief."

"I'll find him my, damn, self then." Derek pushed the flab open.

The big brutes were all gathered around a fire, eating meat. Not a hint of green there. It was cold on Derek's naked body, he saw the snow flakes falling from the trees. He knew he wasn't in Wintergale yet.

A seven foot tall man stood from the fire.

"Ou' fresh meat." He said walking towards Derek. "Sorry 'bout ye four legged friend. It dead."

'These people sound like over grown babies.' Derek thought to himself. "You mean my horse?"

"Tha' wha' it called? A 'horse'?"

"Yes a horse, you dumbass."

The seven footer laughed and lifted Derek up by his throat.

"Ye can shut your mouth. Or me cut off."

"What -choking- the fuck are -choking- You sons of -choking- bitches?"

The beast sets him down, leaving Derek to fall.

"We wha' known as Jillies. Ou' chief is named Cleaver."

"I want to speak with him." Derek said, rubbing his throat.

"Good luck! He don' speak ye tounge."

"Neither do you, by the sounds of how hard you're trying."

"Fucks that mean?" Another man says walking beside the seven footer.

"Sorry. Means ye can' spek nermerl."

"A fuck we can! I'll plough ye, human!"

"You mean fuck me?" Derek stepped back.