An: Hello, this is my first story. Please bear with me I know there are grammatical errors, I just want to do this for fun. Hope you enjoy. I do not own For Honor or any of its characters within the campaign. Also the cover art is not mine, I just got it off of pinterest.
The Warden missed the feeling in his hands as the cold winds blew against his armored body, Even that stinging, tingling sensation from the overexposure to such temperatures. Now his hands felt numb. Unable to bend the tips of his fingers for his blood to keep flowing.
He wondered if the baby swaddled in cloth and wrapped in his arms felt anything. Or was his child as numb as he was? Was his child even living to feel this moment?
The small boy made no sound as the Warden traversed through the planes of a snowy desert. Nothing was to be seen for miles. Wind blew dusty white particles into the air, obscuring what was before him. Sharp winds hit through his armor like millions of cold daggers stabbing every which way possible. The only thing his ears could pick up was the howling wind, whispering loudly into his ear.
The Warden could do nothing but walk. He had walked for miles in the same direction for quite some time, though there were some points where he felt like he had gone in circles. Everything looked the same. After all it was just a flat plane covered in snow. Did he pass that rock before? Was that the same tree?
Where are the roads?
His legs felt numb. Not the same kind of numb feeling as in his fingers, but the kind of numb where one knew that their body was in pain. The worn out nature of his movements showed it. Occasionally he would take a wrong step to the side or slip off a rock and he would almost come tumbling down. He didn't know how he was able to stay up this whole time but the thought of the child- his son- falling with him made him regain his footing at the last possible second.
He can't lose now.
The Warden picked up his feet like he did the last thousands- the last tens of thousands of steps before.
He urged himself a little more. One step in front of the other. Two steps came right behind him.
Wait. Steps don't echo.
His arm moved to his sword before he ever had the chance to think. He couldn't feel the hilt but he knew it was there. The blade unsheathed with the metal sliding out of the hold like a screech. WIth a quick turn of his whole body, he looked to see who had followed him.
Was it the Vikings? The Samurai?
A dark thought entered into the Warden's mind.
Was it her?
It was a thought that provoked fear into his mind. He clutched his sword tighter.
No, he convinced himself. She's dead.
Still, something was there, Hiding within the confines of the cold like a mouse avoiding a predator's claws...
Or a wolf, hiding among the sheep.
Stop thinking! The Warden shook his head of the evil thoughts. He subconsciously held onto his son tighter with his free hand. But what would that do for him? His sword needed two hands to hold. One hand would only make him an easy target unless these were not wolves but instead fools.
Hesitantly, he lifted his free arm away from his son wrapped around his chest. Somehow he felt so cold releasing the boy from the protection of his father. WIth that he now was able to clutch the sword with two hands.
A sound from beside him rang in his ears and with that he jerked to the left. There was No way he could fight in his condition. Instead, He readied his sword in a protective stance, preparing to block the possible strike.
Nothing. Just the plain fields of who knows where.
Another ringing in the other ear made him jerk to the side once more and again there was nothing there. It must have been the wind, dulling his senses. Maybe no one was there. This was good.
The Warden slowly loosened his grip on the longsword and with one hand returned to holding his child in place. He turned the opposite of where his fading footsteps were going.
Instead of the bare plain lands in front of him, he met the hilt of the sword. The warden finally felt pain again as he was knocked to the frozen ground. His armor clashed against each other as the place where this mysterious hilt hit him throbbed. Through his blurry vision he could see a dark figure. So dark that the snow could do nothing to whiten such an image.
"What's this?" The dark figure- a woman- spoke and the warden's heart stopped.
He couldn't breathe when he looked at this menacing figure, her jagged sword pointed at him. At his son. The figure threatening his life was Appollyon. He knew from that familiar helmet that covered her face. Its lifeless "eyes" staring right back at him.
"A lone warden? Traveling with a child?"
The warden didn't know why he did this, but in his panicked state he pushed the blade away from his hands and backed away. The dark armored woman did nothing as he picked himself up again and readied his stance. But deep in his soul, he knew that he was no match for someone like her.
"Don't try to act mighty," she said. She opened her hands up, directing to the open space. Out of the white shadows were more darkened figures fading into existence. Each one of them had their own sword ready in hand.
"You don't even know the meaning of that word," she continued.
The Warden circled to count the enemies surrounding him. He counted four, "not since you killed the master."
The master?
Appollyon never had a master. She was the master. The puppeteer that pulled everything.
The Warden's silence must have amused the Apollyon-figure for she began to chuckle. It started out low, dropping her sword to her side.
"Do you not know?" She asked, her malicious laugh becoming louder.
He said nothing in reply. Everything felt off. This woman didn't have the same mannerisms as Appollyon, despite wearing the same armor.
"Three years, I have been searching for you, Lord Warden," She said.
She began to walk closer, as did her circle of knights, "and what do I find after all of this time?"
The warden took his stance and pivoted around the circle again. None made the attack. Not yet.
"A weak sheep with a futile attempt to protect his young. I expected Appollyon's murderer to be a great wolf."
So she isn't Appollyon, The Lord Warden thought. But how did she know all of this?
It made him shiver to think that someone like her would have disciples so dedicated. What would happen to the world if there was another Appollyon? Two even?
The disciple nodded her head to a knight on the left of the warden. A signal. With that he turned his body to find an enemy warden, swinging his sword to strike at him. The Lord Warden blocked the overhead attack. Metal clashed together in a clanging sound. He used this block to push the sword away and by extent the attacker..
The enemy was pushed back. An opening.
In a split second the Warden pushed his longsword forward. It had been so long since his sword had struck any flesh. Not since that day.
The blade pierced through the armor like paper. The enemy warden groaned through his helmet before his arms went limp. His sword then dropped to the floor.
Releasing his weapon from the chest of the dead, he now saw blood had stained it as well as the snowy floor.
Three left.
This time two officers approached him and swung their swords at him. The Lord Warden backed away, trying to get him and his child away from the length of the sword.
"Oh, you fool."
One officer stepped closer than the other, wanting to make the final blow. That was his first mistake. Before he could take another swing the Lord Warden charged. Careful not to harm his son, he made sure that he only hit the officer with his shoulder.
Metal hit metal as the closest officer was pushed back, and in turn forced away the second officer from behind.
"A wolf never stops hunting."
The Lord warden aimed for the neck and his sword followed his orders. He spinned his body like a dance and the blade followed in a similar pattern around the officer's neck. He didn't see the head come clean off but he didn't want to.
The second officer had hit the ground from The Lord Warden's shoulder bash. He quickly grabbed onto the blade the hilt now facing away from him. With another overhead swing, he plunged the cross-guard into the head of the second officer. The enemy's arms and legs twitch radically until they slowly faded to nothing more than a lifeless corpse.
"And I see now, that you haven't been feeding in a long time."
One more. A peacekeeper.
She jumped and lunged her larger blade at his face. Naturally he blocked the advance, for fear that the strike might also hit his child. She switched from overhead to a left attack of her right handed blade. The Lord Warden switched his guard to the left.
She swung but didn't hit. Instead, she used the smaller dagger in her other hand. The Lord warden didn't have any time to prepare his guard before the dagger stabbed him in the arm.
He grunted loudly at the pain as he clutched his arm. The vague feeling of Warm sticky blood ran through his fingers. When he tried to back away, the peacekeeper quickly closed the gap and took another swing of her larger blade. Her intentions were to his child. The Lord Warden, weakened and tired, was barely able to block the attack. Again metal clashed and he almost fell backwards from the force and the fatigue in his legs.
"And when you don't feed, you'll be weak," her voice echoed in the wind like she was a deity of great power and destruction.
I am not weak!
Anger built up in the Lord Warden. A rage that has not been apparent for a long time. With it, he used his uninjured hand to take hold of the strong of the weapon. He made sure that the peacekeeper heard his battle cry before he threw his sword right at her. The blade flew straight through the air until it hit its target like an arrow. The peacekeeper screamed in agony as the weapon went through her and pinned her to the ground.
Her body was like a frozen statue. A prize of the sword that killed her. In a way, he almost felt bad for killing her in such a manner. For killing any of them.
The Lord Warden hastened his speed toward to pick up his blade. He grabbed the hilt and pulled the cooling corpse off of it. The squelching of flesh and crushing of bone made him internally cringe. Blood formed a crimson carpet in the snow around her.
All henchmen defeated. Now was their leader.
Her voice came close behind him, "and when you're weak."
Stance ready, the Lord Warden turned to face the fiend that followed Apollyon so obsessively.
She wasn't there. Her dark armor was now invisible to his eyes. He looked to his left and only found the wastelands. He turned to his right and found similar results.
Where is she?
There was a moment. A small, fleeting moment where the Lord Warden felt glad for feeling something. That quickly went away when that feeling was pain. Pain as something impaled him from his back and out through his stomach. Whatever breath in his lungs he had left was now gone.
The disciple's voice whispered into his ear, "You'll be slaughtered."
He didn't want to look. To look would make him...
What would it make him?
The Lord Warden, despite this, slowly looked down. The sight alone wanted to make him die faster. Out from his side were the claws. Those claws gave way for his body's blood to flow out like a stream into the snow. Her dark nails, now painted crimson, just barely missed the child. The tip of the claws was too close to where the small boy's foot was.
He no longer had the strength to hold the sword. He let go but never heard it hit the ground. Sounds disappeared as though it never existed.
The claws then returned back into the tunnel that was newly dug. The spatters and small stream of blood soon became a large river that flowed out of him. Another hand grabbed his shoulder and violently turned him around. Through his blurred vision, Those bug eyes faced him at a dangerously close distance. She tightened her grip to keep him from falling. Through the holes of the mask her breath felt warm. The only warmth that he might feel before he dies.
She leaned closer to wear she guessed was his ear, "you are no wolf. You are a sheep."
She loosened her grip and released him. the warmth of her breath faded. Gravity pushed down on the Lord warden like a viking ax stuck to him and striking him down to the ground.
He landed with a loud *thump.* The sky above was the same color as the ground. White. Was this it? For him and his child to die in the middle of nowhere by the hands of an insane Apollyon imitator?
Something squirmed against his chest. A small whine barely heard through the warden's dying breath. Afterall of that, he finally was awake. In a way it gave the warden peace. A peace that quickly went away when the blurry figure of the woman stepped into his vision. She was now much taller. A mountain of terror.
In vain, the Lord Warden tried to move, but his body refused this request. They were like stones, unmoving in such a stance. The only thing he could do was cough. He expected blood to come out but none did.
"hm,' the woman hummed, acknowledging the small baby.
She sheathed her sword and leaned down over him. The Lord warden could do nothing but watch as she unwrapped the cloth that connected him with his son. The comforting weight of his son became a forgotten joy.
He saw the baby- the wiggling, crying baby- lifted into the air by the cloth that swaddled him. She then held his son in her arms and lifted the fabric that covered the baby's face.
When she saw the image that the baby wore, she seemed to be taken aback. Disgusted even at the blonde hair that was on the child's head.
"I see."
The woman then looked back at the Lord Warden.
"Now I know where you have been all these years," she began. A low chuckle sounded from deep in her throat, "you have been taken away from the hunt to make these..."
She held the baby out by the cloth over him, "half breeds!"
He seethed at those last words. The woman ceased her villainous laughter and knelt down, "tell me..."
Her next words were intentional, "did those savages eat the others?"
With that horrid question from such a horrid woman, the Lord Warden screamed. With all his might he pushed himself upward. He will make her pay for saying such a thing.
The woman shot back up like lightning and kicked him back down to the ground. The place where she stepped was close to the wound, but it was close enough for pain from it to shoot through his body. The soft snow on the ground was only a thin layer covering the hard stone-like floor. His head throbbed from the pain.
"No, no, no. This won't do. Half breeds are a possibility to unite," she stated.
Warden strained to manage one word, "no...," but even that brought about agony.
He knew what she was going to do and he was just going to lay there and watch.
The wicked woman began to turn her body, "oh don't worry. I won't let you watch," her back now faced him.
Despite his lack of sights on his son, he knew that the child was squirming in one of this woman's arms. He knew what she was going to do as the other arm was deliberately shown to have her claws out.
"After all, I am doing the factions a favor."
"NO!"
Something screamed, but it wasn't the baby. It wasn't the Lord warden.
It was the disciple, because her agony came from the sword that pierced her back and through her chest.
And that sword was held By the Lord Warden.
For moments there was silence. Not even the baby made a sound. It was only the faint heartbeat in his chest. The woman stood there, stilling clutch onto the cloth that wrapped around the baby.
"I am no wolf," The warden said breathlessly. The heat of his breath flew like smoke into the air, "but I am not weak."
He grabbed the cloth and ripped it out of her hands. Sliding the sword off the woman's body, he watched it fall face first into the ground. Her armor clinked as it struck the ground.
For a while, Warden just stood there, starstruck at his sudden action. In one hand he held his baby in the other, he clutched the fatal wound.
It was soon that he realized that he was taking too much time and with that recognition he took one step in front of another. Each step was more painful than the last. Each step was becoming slower. Blood dripped out of the wound, creating a new crimson trail starting from the disciple.
For a long time, Warden didn't even have the strength to lift his head to look beyond. He only focused on his feet because if he stopped looking he was afraid that they would never move again.
Shadows grew around his vision until his head hit something. He looked up to find what had blocked his way. Not any person or rock or tree, but a door. A wooden one.
At this moment, the Warden realized this door was connected to a house. Perhaps a peasant's by the looks of it.
He didn't have much time to ponder on it. He knocked on the door probably harder than he should have.
"Go away! I have no more money for you!" a muffled yell came from the other end. A woman's.
The Warden knocked harder this time, not caring about the anger that this woman had towards tax collectors.
Anger stomps approached the door from the other end before it swung open and with an exasperated, "Listen here Mark-"
The small woman who opened the door changed her emotion from anger to surprise as she stared at the sight of the injured knight with a child in his hands in front of her.
For a long while she didn't say anything. Her sight began to blur as the last bits of strength left the Lord Warden's body.
Then, with all of his might, all of his soul, all of his love, he handed the child to the woman. She hesitated, backing away slightly. Fear was struck in her eyes.
"Mom? Who's at the door?" Another voice from behind came through.
The woman didn't answer that voice, only stared at the baby. She was most likely thinking about the half breed that can be so easily recognized.
"Please," he begged, before reaching into his sack and pulling out his signet- an image of a stronghold. The wound, now open, poured more blood onto the ground. It didn't matter to him anymore. What mattered is that this woman would at least take him.
"Mom!"
A little girl, no older than five appeared, then a little boy, possibly the same age, stood next to their mother. They gasped once they saw the injured man in front of them and hid behind her in fear.
The woman didn't hide, or step back again, but she did hesitate.
What are you waiting for?
"Please!" he urged louder. He regretted being so loud, for the children ran back and away from their mother, screaming for their father.
The woman, out of her shock and fear, slowly reached out her hands and took the child, along with the signet in her arms.
The boy, his child with no name, was away from his father's protection. In a way, it was the worst feeling he could have. It hurt more than the fatal wound at his side. But he knew that the child would be safe. Safer than being on a corpse's body.
With a painful, agonizing sigh of relief, he nodded to the woman and tried to say 'thank you' but his voice held no power anymore.
Just like that, he went back from whence he came, following the trail of his own blood. Each footstep lost the strength to carry on. His vision started to darken.
He wanted to see the boy grow up. To watch him speak his first words. To learn how to walk. To learn how to fight like his father. In the end, he knew that the time was cut short for their bond. He regretted such a tragedy to befall on them. In his mind he repeated the same thing over and over again, but he was too weak to say it.
Now I will be at peace.
The Lord Warden's vision went dark as he suddenly collapsed into the cold snow.