Author: ikurus
Date:Nov 24 2017
Gharm the Wolf was a name many knew and feared. His ruthless band of
mercenaries called "Wolfpack" had been an iron fist for many a warlord and
rich, evil nobles.
Gharm was a massive ogre, almost the size of a giant. Years of fighting and
politics had made him a ruthless leader with a taste for riches and death. His
bloodlust was almost legendary and it could only be satisfied by another
mission for another wealthy client.
For years Gharm and his Wolfpack dominated city and countryside alike, but one
day changed that.
Once during the winter, Gharm and his mercenaries took a small village as
theirs. Their mission was to scare the entire village to joining a certain
nobleman's side in the upcoming war. After all, this village had a blacksmith
who had perfected the art of sword making.
But one evening was different.
All the mercenaries were sitting in the local inn drinking some ale, when they
heard someone outside.
"The Rider is coming!", shouted the voice. "Finally!", it continued.
Gharm heard it loudly, but decided to send 2 of his lower ranking members to
inspect the commotion.
It was only a few seconds, when one of the members ran inside holding the
other one's decapitated head.
"Boss!", shouted the surviving grunt. "He wants you!".
Gharm thought to himself quietly: "Maybe this is worth seeing." The other men
made way for him as he took his mug of ale with him, to greet this new threat.
He opened the inn door and walked outside. He saw a man. A pale man wearing
dark armor and a small hat with a feather on it. In his hand the man was
wielding a sharp, glowing sabre.
"Ha ha ha!" echoed Gharm's laughter across the town. "You are here to
challenge ME?", Gharm asked.
The man only nodded and calmly said: "Yes."
"Hold my ale, whelp", Gharm said to the grunt next to him and gave him his
mug.
"This won't take long." Said confidently as the other members of the group
started cheering loudly.
Slowly, the others started chanting "Gharm. Gharm. Gharm.". As the chants were
getting louder, Gharm drew his weapon. His massive great axe has been the end
of many men, women and children. So endless was his bloodlust.
Without much hesitation, Gharm attacked the man with a quick sweep from his
axe.
*DINK* went the man's sabre as he skillfully parried his opponent's attack.
After his futile attack, Gharm took a step back, took a good look at the man
and said: "Finally a fair challenge?".
And again, the man just nodded calmly and said: "Yes."
Suddenly Gharm's face turned serious. Chants of his name were getting louder
as Gharm gripped his weapon with both hands and charged the pale man.
After getting closer he swung his weapon to the man's head, who took a small
step left and parried his attack again. This time before Gharm was able to
defend himself, the man slashed Gharm in the hand causing a small wound.
Suddenly. Everyone stopped chanting. It was dead quiet. Everyone knew then
that this was no ordinary human. This was something different, something much
more dangerous.
Gharm took a step towards the man swinging his axe at the man's right arm, his
sword arm.
Almost faster than the eye, the man side-stepped the swing, this time slashing
Gharm on his shoulder.
"Raagh!" Gharm shouted, for he missed once again.
After his swing, Gharm released his hold and struck the man on the cheek with
his fist. The strike left no remarkable wound or mark of any kind. Quickly
Gharm retreated a few steps and clutched his hand, for the man's skin felt ice
cold upon touch. It was unnaturally cold for any human.
This time, the man looked at Gharm and said: "My turn.". Gharm gripped his
weapon again and readied himself for an attack.
As the man moved towards him, Gharm could still feel the cold of the
stranger's skin. Although, it bothered him, he readied himself for an attack.
The man took a few quick steps towards the ogre and slashed Gharm in the other
shoulder, before he could even react.
After which he continued with a quick stab to the side of Gharm and a quick
slash across his stomach.
The man took a few steps back and lowered his sword. Gharm was bleeding
heavily from the two strikes, but ordered his men to stay back. Gharm knew
that if he wasn't strong enough to beat this stranger, then the other might
not follow him anymore.
After ripping a part of his uniform off and covering his wounds, Gharm readied
his axe once again. He knew that the stranger's speed was too much to handle,
so guile was the way to go.
He charged the man with his axe, but before getting too close, took a step to
his side and swung in a large half-circle towards the man.
The man as if disappeared shortly, only to arrive behind Gharm stabbing his
sword through the massive mercenary, piercing the heart and killing Gharm
instantly.
The others looked on in horror as the man pulled the weapon from the
mercenary's corpse. Suddenly he took a small white cloth from a pouch he was
carrying and cleaned the blade.
The pale man then took a silver coin from his pouch, dropped it on the corpse
and said: "One down."
He sternly glanced the other mercenaries, who were in shock of what they had
just seen.
Many of them readied for a fight, but the man just got on his horse and rode
away, leaving only a massive corpse and a silver coin behind.