A Lone Wolf Among the Black Fang; Legault's Story
Many years ago, the Black Fang was recruiting men, willing or unwilling, to fight among their ranks of thieves and brigands. On this particular day, they happened to be searching for men on the coast of a small and isolated town in front of a lazy river. This is where our story starts…
"Attention!" barked the black fang sergeant as he paced before the long line of unenthusiastic men, each with his mind elsewhere. "I said, ATTENTION!" At this sudden remark the line of men sobered up and stood with their backs straight, paralyzed with fear.
"That's better…" hissed the sergeant. He walked along the ranks of fearful warriors, axe in hand, and examined each one with an expert eye. Occasionally he would jostle one of them to test their patience. He dragged several men forward and eyed each of them carefully. After a long and tense silence, he shouted, "Draw your weapons!" The men, still shivering with terror, complied uneasily.
"Now…" said the sergeant, "Which one of you want to try your skills first?" None of the men moved a muscle.
"Speak, damn you!" yelled the sergeant angrily. "Which of you will fight me?!"
The men stood there for a moment, before one of them hesitantly raised his hand and in a timid and meek voice said "I'll take you on."
"Good…" hissed the sergeant. He wasted no time in attacking his foe. His heavy axe whirled around his head as though it where as light as a feather and clashed violently with the trebling man's sword. Hesitantly, the man parried and counter attacked. With a scornful scoff the sergeant dodged the strike and proceeded to cleft his opponents sword in two, leaving him helpless. The sergeant grunted and said, "This one will do. But I need at least twenty-five men. Who else will challenge me?"
Eventually, over confident challengers began to arise from the crowd. Each of them was defeated and sent slinking off to their broken down homes in humiliation. After over an hour and a half only 2 spots remained. The sergeant issued a final challenge.
"Let any fool who thinks himself worthy of the black fang speak! May he step forward from the cover of his fellow cowards and challenge me!"
A bit of uneasy shifting surfaced in the ranks of the village soldiers. Suddenly a shout came from the top of the steep ledge overhanging the recruiting ground. It came from a young, purple haired man who leapt from his perch as he issued his challenge.
"I'll gladly fight you, just to get a bit of practice," said the man, drawing his sword as he said so. The sergeant was caught off-guard by the man's lively and sarcastic demeanor, but he soon regained his posture.
"Alright then, my young challenger, what is your name?" questioned the sergeant, his eyes focusing intently on the young man.
"My name is Legault," he replied. Slowly he began to circle his opponent. "But names aren't important on the field of battle."
"I like how you think boy. Now have at you!" shouted the sergeant as he lunged at Legault. He sidestepped and countered with surprising ease. The sergeant wheeled around, recovering from his wild attack, and blocked Legault's blow. He hardly saw the counter attack Legault had planned, which nicked his side and pierced his flesh. He gritted his teeth and lashed at Legault. The sergeant barraged Legault with a series of quick, effective slashes, eachof which Legault barely managed to counter. Finally, in a reverse spinning attack, the sergeant knocked the sword from Legault's hand and placed his axe at his throat.
"That was quite a display," panted the sergeant. He wiped his brow of the sweat that had formed on his balding head. "Welcome to the black fang." And with this he helped Legault up and yelled to his men; "Come on! We have enough men. Let's move on. Nergal expects us at noon and it's a four hour ride to our meeting place. Let's go!"
And just like that the hoard of riders galloped off into the distance with Legault among them, never to be seen in the coastal village again.