A Wolf Among the Sheep

"What Did You Think Would Happen?"

As the katana directly sliced through her flesh, there was only one thought in Apollyon's mind.

Excellent.

The warlord of the Blackstone legion was far from masochistic. In fact, it was due to meticulous planning, years of effort, that keeps her absolutely ecstatic.

Sure, she would lose. She was destined to lose, and nothing would change that... but winning was never a factor. Not for this. Taking control of Ashfeld, subsuming all the legions under one banner. Then taking that unified force to starve the Vikings, burning their food... well, most of it, in order to make them desperate. Then, leading them to the Samurai... and reigniting their blood honor.

They, then, turned their attention to the one who started it all... Apollyon.

Their minds were so simple. Kill Apollyon, the war will end. Then they'll have their farce of a peace once more. Peace! As if that saved her village from Vikings, when they raided. They did that regardless of peace or not! People are... fundamentally... violent. That is clear.

However, there is a choice. They can choose to be sheep. Weak, pathetic excuses for warriors who shackled themselves to honor and peace, liars wearing armor... or... they were wolves. Unrestrained by such trivialities, demonstrating true strength.

The Emperor's Champion was clearly a lethal predator, to land such a blow on her. And that made her smile, under her grim armor. She had been pushed back, against the stone railing, overlooking her castle. This place was under siege from multiple factions, the reformed Iron Legion, commanded by the Warden who left years ago, even taking Holden Cross under his command. Then there was the Chosen, the Samurai, such as the Orochi who was the "Emperor's Champion"... and in the far distance, she could see a third arriving. The Warborn. The Vikings.

Their armies were here. The Blackstones had been all but defeated at this point. But her purpose had been served.

The Champion didn't see it that way, but it was hard for those shackled by honor to do so. The Orochi spoke, her voice clear. "It's over. We will have peace." She then had the gall to sheathe her katana against her. Against Apollyon! The Demon of War herself!

Still leaning against the railing, Apollyon's right hand gripped her decorated longsword. Laughing slightly, the warlord couldn't believe the Champion's naivety. "Peace?"

The Samurai had begun to walk away, confident that they had won, but stopped once Apollyon began to speak. Turning back, they watched as the dark knight looked over the battlefield, completely at ease. "So..." The armored warrior started, "what happens now?" Collecting her strength, Apollyon gripped the handle of her sword, using it to pull herself up and away from the wall. The sounds of battle had ceased, because the opposing factions had won. But just the battle. Not the war... and not against themselves.

"You all just..." The champion tensed, hand to her own blade, as the adversary stood at full height, sword back in her clawed glove hand before she stumbled forward. It was clear the warlord was on her last legs. "...go home?" The knight looked back to the balcony, before doing the unthinkable. She threw her sword away, far over the balcony. Turning back to the Orochi, Apollyon continued. "You came into my home. And you brought your armies." It was getting hard for the grim knight to breathe. "Peace?" She chuckled, amused by the prospect.

It was then that a horn sounded. A horrible sound, for it was the signal for a Viking raid. Something both the Champion and Apollyon knew all too well. "That isn't how the world works." the warlord continued. The samurai was about to contest this when Apollyon continued, rebutting the forming argument, while watching the new carnage unfold. The three factions were fighting directly against each other now, no semblance of peace possible at all. "Don't speak to me of your virtues. Duty. Kinship. Honor. You have forgotten what you are." The champion could see that she was on her last legs, but had come to a horrifying conclusion.

"You want war... only war."

However, instead of confirming the point, Apollyon reframed it in her way, while turning back to look at the Orochi. "All I want... is for you to admit what you are." Each of the last three words was punctuated by pointing with her finger, accusatory. "All of you." Pushing off the banister one more time, Apollyon reached forth with a clawed glove, proudly proclaiming, "My... wolves..."

As blood loss took its toll, the dark knight of war knew that she had won. Smiling, her body collapsed, unable to deal with the pain any longer, as well as knowing that the wolves, the strong, will rise from this conflict. Just as they did in any other.

It was just a shame that she would not see the results of her work.

It was to her surprise that she woke up. It was some sort of back alley between large, strange buildings. Lost, confused, the girl got to her feet. While everything seemed so strange... it at least resembled a city. This isn't Heathmoor. Not Ashfeld, nor Valkenheim... or... the Myre. Where am I?

It was then that she heard people speak. Japanese... perfect. I found myself among the Chosen... or a similar faction. It was then that she realized that she had no armor. She tossed her blade, sure, but her armor was gone. She had nothing. She was now weak.

This would not do.

Cautiously, she looked for the source of the commotion, and found that there was, indeed, a battle. But not between samurai... but instead between people wearing outlandish outfits. Curious, the girl moved closer, wanting to see what exactly was going on.

It turns out that it was between a person wearing some kind of goofy outfit with a bright yellow and black on his head and arms. No armor at all to be seen. Meanwhile, the other was close to, but not quite, similar in appearance to a peacekeeper. They had the hood, the dark clothes... but yet again, no armor.

After a few bouts of unarmed combat, which was already proving to be nothing but a joke, the man with the bright colors finally punched the other in the face, leading to an instant knockout.

As the people cheered... the man basked in the glory. All it did was make her sick. That... hero... is nothing more than a glorified jester. That one is nothing more than a sheep...

However, she watches with amusement as the other man, in the hood, attempts to get up. A flash of metal, and he tries to stab the man... the supposed hero... but, to the hero's credit, he quickly disarmed the man and pinned him to the ground. The smart thing to do would be to end it right here, right now, while you held the crowd's favor. That is how Gladiators did things... but then people in a different kind of cloth uniform arrived, and carted him away. Picking up on their conversation as the crowd began to disperse, she eventually figured out what was going on.

The man named, "Death Arms", a horrendous name, in her opinion, was a public servant who took down a criminal. If they wanted to do that more quickly, they could just kill the criminal outright, but instead there was a complex set of laws... set up, presumably, by prey. Sheep in human clothing.

This would not do. The civilians were none of her concern, but these... heroes... these prey, must be dealt with. And that was what inspired her new purpose. To show them what they are.

Her wolves.