"In this world, is the destiny of mankind controlled by some transcendental entity or law? Is it like the hand of God hovering above? At least it is true that man has no control, even over his own will. Man takes up the sword in order to shield the small wound in his heart sustained in a far-off time beyond remembrance. Man wields the sword so that he may die smiling in some far-off time beyond perception."
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The stranger came towards her in the dark forest.
She approaches carefully, the pale moon highlighting the curves of her naked alabaster skin. The swordswoman took in the beautiful stranger with a stern gaze from her limited view, a firm build highlighting her curves, with long blonde hair that covered part of her face and cold, emotionless eyes with a dead smile to compliment it. That smile alone was enough to draw her in completely.
The swordswoman did not move, barely even flinched. Her blade is close at hand, resting by the smoldering campfire. But she does not reach for it. She observed the stranger instead through lowered lashes, the last frays of her tiredness fading away, only to be replaced with tension. The stranger carefully lowers to ground, onto her, wrapping her thighs on both sides of her own.
Hands brush away silky strands of raven hair away from her face to reveal such beauty marred by war and turmoil. The swordswoman's right eye was forever closed shut, tiny nicks of scars littering her cheeks and jawline. Her left arm whines with her slight movement, which was now replaced with a metallic, weaponized prosthetic. No words are exchanged, curiosity now on the front of her alert mind.
The stranger leans over and brushes delicately fingers across her cheeks, lips and jawline, skin cool to the touch. The swordswoman is taken back when the stranger grabs her own hand to graze the tips of her breasts. The swordswoman hums huskily, rough hands now grasping her by the shoulders to clash their bodies together. She moves and the stranger relents, seeming to be amused by the change of position as she rolls her hips in a decisive movement, a silent question being asked.
The swordswoman answers.
Cloaks and armor plates are discarded; the stranger throws her head back, blonde hair splayed on the forest floor. Bruising grips are squeezing the smooth flesh of her hips, ragged breaths mingling with ravenous kisses. The stranger pulls her close, lips hovering near her neck where a brand is etched into her skin, bleeding profusely. Her tongue slithers with a precise swipe before she tenses at the disappearance of the swordswoman's warmth.
She glances up to be met with a tip of a curved blade, screams of the stranger echoing into the crisp night air.
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The woman came from the south, past the deep forest. Rain is sprinkling down from the gray morning sky, and the humble town Koka comes into view as she saunters down the rolling hills and past the riverbeds. The roads past the town gates were bustling with busy bodies, surprisingly. It was humid but she tugs onto her black cloak even tighter as a carriage passes her by. She pays little mind to the eyes that burned into her back as they ventured to the path she took.
'More flesh for the Lordly beast,' she says to herself.
She ignores the look attracted from the townspeople, taking a more prudent approach of keeping her hood on. She had learned a long time ago that a young woman was smarter to keep her appearance hidden when traveling. And her face would draw attention in ways she didn't want to be bothered with at the moment.
She makes her way to the nearby tavern, her shimmering black cloak fluttering behind her. The tavern keeper raised his head at the sound of her heavy footsteps approaching as she maneuvers around chairs and small round tables. Even though it was late morning, there were already a number of men drowning themselves in mugs of ale.
"What can I do for you?" the man grunts while wiping his hands on his canvas apron, voice unpleasant.
"Give me your strongest poison," she said quietly to the owner before tossing a few gold coins onto the wooden counter. The man gives her a curious look, noting the gleaming prosthetic fist that is resting on her lap. Still, he does what the woman commands, handing her a mug filled with amber and red liquid.
"Long night?" he asks gruffly.
Moans and screams of agony echo in her mind as a women's flesh yielded to cold steel.
The corner of her lips lift as she downs her drink, "Something like that."
"Bartender?" a slurred voice says from the side of her. A man was slumped in his chair, chin resting on the rim of his empty cup. "Have you heard any good news?"
"No," the keeper sighs. "No good news at all, I'm afraid."
"Still nothing? Time's are getting dark, even in Midland..."
She listens in on the conversation, her gaze hidden underneath her cloak as she took subtle sips from her mug. Eyes were beginning to find their way to her as everyone noticed that she carried blades by her side. Sure, every man in Kork carried a weapon- but she not only had one, but two, large, long and curved, capable of carving through anything with just one swift move.
Still, she remained sitting at the counter, her ears twitching to hone in her surroundings. A thud could be heard on the other side of the tavern, along with gruff groans of disappointment.
"Damn it! You missed!"
"Stop squirmin' around! How'm I supposed to hit you?" the gruff voice said in annoyance.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
The drunkard besides her lifts his head, "I feel sorry for that elf."
The bartenders gaze grew somber, his bushy gray brows furrowing, "There's nothing we can do about it. Not even the lord mayor can lay a hand on the men of Koka castle. Best not to get involved."
That seems to perk her up.
Her hooded gaze looks over to see that they were indeed men of Koka's castle, draped in green cloaks and silver armor plates. The elf was squirming against the wall, trying to chew off the ropes that were wrapped around his neck and wrists. It's ears are elongated and pointed with insect-like wings on his back. Its blue hair was disheveled from its constant struggle to stay alive.
"Bring it on, fathead!" the creature squealed. "Why doncha untie me?! I'll gnaw right through your arteries!"
'Pesky little thing.' she takes another sip of her drink with a hum of amusement.
The Koka brute with the patchy beard lifts up another kitchen knife with a sinister grin, "I'm gonna stuff those words right back down your throat! Now, stop wiggling!"
The woman turns when an unpleasant sound comes from behind her.
"Hey, there, stranger, where ya headed?"
She ignores him, gaze kept low. More men are circling around her, reeking of beer and onions as they leered over her shoulders with hunger in their eyes.
"What? No words, love? Can I least have a drink with ya'?" he gives her slimy grin that showed his lack of several teeth while the remaining ones were rotten and yellow.
"Keep moving," she clips, downing another shot.
"Oh, come on! Don't be shy-" a grungy hand lurched forward and pulls her hood down, revealing the grid of messy scars on her face for all to see. A light grey eye is staring at them, unamused.
"Whoa-ho! We got us a scarred beauty here, boys," they whistled as the lanky one leans closer to get a better look at her. "The bitch even has one eye. Talk about a jack of all trades here!"
His dirty grimed hands reaches for her cloak with greed, "Let's see what else yet hiding underneath that-"
He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence on account of her dagger skewering the hand on her shoulder and pinning it to the counter. It took him a few seconds before his mind could process what had happened and start screaming in agony. All eyes spurn on her, and she knows that she's been revealed.
So much for doing this quietly...
With a sigh, she stands up and tosses two more golden coins for the bartender, "I'm gonna mess up your shop a bit."
He shoots her a baffled look but she linger long enough to hear his rebuttal as men in green cloaks scrambled through chairs and tables to get to her. She didn't flinch at them revealing their weapons to her. She was long prepared. The soldier to her left was the first to strike, and the woman's reflexes were unlike anything the elf had ever seen before. Before his hand could fully reach out to her, his hand was slashed by a dagger. The man yelled and writhed in pain, blood gushing onto the wooden floors. The woman's head whipped quickly to the two men charging at her. She promptly slashed at one of the men's legs, causing him to fall and crash into a table. The other swung his sword, only for his attack to be blocked. Without hesitation, she took the opportunity to lodge her dagger through his throat before yanking it out quickly. The fight was brutal and bloody. At that moment, it was clear the elf and everyone around them that the men were outmatched.
The men were dead, scattered all over the tavern. One was still breathing fortunately for her. He was still moaning in pain for his hand was still stuck by the dagger she gifted him moments ago. The woman wipes the blood off her long blade and approached him, slamming his head onto the hard counter with a grunt.
"You're one of the thugs from Koka Castle, right?"
She grips a handful of hair and slams his head again when he doesn't respond quick enough.
"Answer me."
"Yes...ma'am..." he manages to croak out.
"That's better. I suppose you can deliver a message for your boss for me then."
"Wha-what message...?"
She twists the tiny blade in his hand, a sickening crunch following his screams, "Tell him the Black Blade has come."
The man is trembling in her grasp, eyes glancing up in horror, "The Black Blade..."
She hums in response, "That's it."
The elf could spot a figure approaching her from behind. He opens his mouth to speak but he's quickly silenced from the woman's inhuman reflexes. She turns in an instant, hands on the hilt of her blade as she swings in one swift move. Her blade sings in the air and gleams in the dim light as it cuts through her enemy, a head floating for mere seconds before it lands on the ground with a thud. Screams and retches echoed through the tavern.
The blade was too long to be called a sword. Sharp, tall, with a curve unlike any other weapon. Definitely a destroyer of men for the one who wields it.
She sheathes it with ease before tossing her cloak back over her head, strands of raven hair falling down her shoulders while she glanced down at the wounded man once more, "I'm counting on you."
Her heavy footsteps exits the tavern, all eyes locked on the carnage the woman left behind.
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"I see. So that's what's going on in town?"
Word had already traveled fast from the town tavern, panic arisen amongst the people from the violent display. The storm had grown dangerously close this time, the downpour of rain sloshing down as thunder rattled the castle walls. The messenger bowed before him in the large dining hall, the Lord of this dark sanctuary called Kork Castle.
"Yes, my lord Baron...a woman, draped in all black. Mercenary, some folks say," the man caresses his bandage wrapped hand, the dagger wound still fresh and irritated. "I saw her with my own eyes! She had enough weapons to start her own war!"
How could one be so foolish? How can one act with such little regard for their own life? Does she not know who she has angered? Surely she must have. He...that thing that is beyond human. He's something horrible and incomprehensible. A creature from the very depths of the pit.
"Bring the minister to me," he says, his voice sending an uncomfortable chill through the messenger. His pale eyes remained unmoving, never leaving the torches that roamed the streets in panic.
"At once."
The poised lord stood in the darkness while the messengers footsteps retreated back down the hall. A wicked smile slowly graces his lips as he glanced down at the town below from the chamber window, pale sharp teeth revealed in the small remnants of light.
"She has finally come..." he chuckles deeply, body tingling with radiant anticipation. "The Black Blade."