Crusaders III: The New Age 1.3

1.3 The Slayer of the Faith

Across the wasteland to the west, nearer to the mountain range that was once known as the Alps, there was a half collapsed castle, having half of its walls torn down, with only one tower of its original four left standing. In that tower, one inhabitant had taken refuge by building up stone defenses around it; against the natural elements and also the evolved creatures that may creep up in the dark.

The man was dressed in layers of rags under his worn out dark thick leather suit with the emblem of the cross lined with reinforced chain mail around his arms and thighs but with a difference as his emblem have an additional sign of the oval shape to the cross. He was not armed with any lasers or phaser but he had on him the ancient Broadsword carried by his forefathers before him. On both his forearms are the shields that were worn there to protect his shoulders. His long dark flowing hair to the back was unkempt from the days of running, was secured with a dark bandanna that covered his head. The expression on the face of the man was that of dark penetrating eyes, and firm cheeks that lined up to a square jaw; the looks of a true warrior form once appreciated during the older era of chivalry.

He held the Broadsword with both his hands and his legs braced for the moves that were taught to him by his father. His adversary was reflected by the small fire he had tended on the tower flooring; a dark menacing silver furred creature once known as wolves, but now goes with the name of Fenrir. The creatures have evolved to be twice its fore-breeds but it still retained that red orbs for the eyes and the long fangs in its jaw.

"Come and attack me, you vile creature." The man taunted the creature. Once the wolves hunt in packs but the lack of preys have made them run in singles or pairs. Infighting among themselves have also dwindled their numbers but they are still the most feared ones here on these mountains.

The Fenrir kept its distance; moving in small steps with its eyes looking for opening that would allowed it to rushed at the prey but the Man was holding his vigil on the wolf. Whether it was frustration or hunger, the wolf went lunging in what it may have perceived as an opening; but the Man was ready. The Broadsword swung in tight across the path of the wolf, and its sharp blade sliced into the side of its neck; cut in deep and severed some arteries where the bloods spurts out in streaks across its path.

The wolf fell on its side but the Man was already thrusting the Broadsword sharp end into its ribs just after the front limbs. The broadsword thrust in deep was then twisted by it handler, and pushed to exit at the other side of the wolf body. The wolf howled out in its final seconds before silence prevailed once again in the castle.

The Man kicked at the wolf and noticed it was dead, then fell down on his knees and grabbed at the wound. He tore at the flesh there and reached for the inner organs which were rich with nutrients. It drank the blood that was in the wolf to quench his thirst before he settled down to removed the parts he would keep.

So then we had met the Second Crusaders of the New Age.

He was to be named Slayer of the Faith.