Mercia: 400-500 AD
A foot crunched down upon snow. In the vast wilds of old Britain's inland strode a man garbed in a dark, weathered, old cloak.
"H-Help!" A voice rang echoing between the white covered trees from a far. With pause in his step, blue eyes became slitted and scannd afar before catching sight of a young boy running for their life from a-
'Demonic Boar... How convenient; some of my quarry.' The man soon vanish to human eyes, a cloud of white and a clap of sound following after him as he weaved passed each tree to reach his destination.
Soon reappearing to human eye, yet now next to the Boar alongside an arm that soon blured forwards in ferocity. A great clap sounded as the Demonic Beast flew with an explosion of unearthly gore, before at last crashing into several trees and stopping on the last caving the old oak in.
'Wild' would come to the mind of most who were to see him. The man cared little in the way of clothing, leaving his pectorals bare and proud to dare any other fellow to compare. Not even shoes were worn, but the bitter snow seemed not to affect him, his feet looking healthy and fine. The only thing other than the cloak that appeared exempt were his old trousers. A bag hung over one of his shoulders.
As the teenage-boy of fifteen looked towards their saviour in awe. The word 'Powerful' came to their young-mind. Perhaps, it was the primordial feeling to the 'wild' man?
Perhaps, it was his exotic skin in combination with the blue-tribelistic markings, the fearsome blue-eyes and the long-mane of dark-blue hair? OR perhaps, it was the frightening Magical Energy that briefly ebbed forth when the man had appeared?
Somthing about it felt... alien?- No... like something ancient, but fundamentally out of place.
'It was... difficult to breathe for a moment.'
"Are you fine?" The boy's thoughts were interrupted and they looked to the man clearly in his early-twenties.
"Uh? O-oh yes! Thanks to you that is!" Their response was flustered, yet thankful.
However, the man merely shook his head. "You did well to survive as long as you did." He stared at the Demonic Boar's corpse, seamlessly taking note of small minor injuries he himself didn't inflict. Before looking back at the brown-haired teenager unworried. "A person without a form Mystery would have likely died before I arrived. Are you a Magus?"
His tone spoke of knowing.
And the boy, whether knowing it for the rhetorical question it was or not, answered out of honor and respect. "I am, and I am obliged to give my name...
"I am Ludvig Borzak, 3rd Head of the Borzak Family." He was able pull that off without getting jittery this time. Ludvig hoped his grandfather would be proud!
The 'wild' man simply nodded, without a change of expressions in slightest. Ah! Young Ludvig felt intimidated! But soon blinked as his saviour raised a hand up to shake, and the boy obliged.
"My name is... Accolon. And I have come to slay these Demonic Boars."
Around an hour and a half later. The two of them -Ludvig, and Accolon- found themselves sat opposite the other on a small table.
The walk to the Borzak's quaint little cottage had been a silent one. And even upon arrival, while Ludvig welcomed his saviour, he wasn't the conversationalist his grandfather was. So unfortunately, as they both sat there drinking nettle-tea, the silence still permeated.
Fortunately, Accolon finally broke through it. "This tea is pleasant."
Being the good opportunist he was, the young Borzak seized it. "I should think so. The honey I added came from my own bee's."
"I noticed them working even though it's mid-Winter." The man from Gaul looked from his tea to Ludvig. "They your familiars?"
The Mage interlocked his fingers. "Yes, but only some. I've been experimenting on them this last year or so." Bilinking twice, Ludvig quickly raised his hands up and he spoke with some worry. "B-but don't be alarmed! The bees this honey came from are my more... m-mediocre batch!"
Accolon's sighed. "Don't worry. I'm sensitive to Magical Energy. I can tell, there's bearly a lick of it in this tea." To this Ludvig visibly calmed. Having an absurd Magic Resistance went unsaid by the Gaulishman. "I suppose they're not for combat then?"
"I have had the thought. And this whole... Demonic Boar incident has made me realise just how lacking I am in combat spells." Borzak tapped his chin in thought. "I'm gonna need some materials to strengthen my bees."
"Ohh?" The older man's voice held the barest hint of intrigue, as a lone brow raised. "If you'd like; I'll give you the Boar carcase."
The teen blinked twice as he responded. "A-Are sure?" The Borzak then quickly coughed into his hand, before interlocking it again with the other. "I wouldn't want to impede whatever you were planning to do with it."
"It's fine. I'll be getting plenty more anyway."
Ludvig nodded. "Well, if it is fine with you. Would you like compensation?"
Accolon gave a hum. "I suppose some honey from your more mystical batch of bees, and the location to where you ran into that Demonic Beast would be fine."
"...If that's what you would like. I can't possibly refuse." Though the young Mage smiled, his mouth twitched into a frown. "However, the area I ran into the Boar was around two hours Southeast-off from the village Pæga." He sighed. "From what the villagers have been speaking of, these beasts were spotted more often further up North. I... was hoping there'd be non further down south. How foolish..."
The man knew it wasn't his business, yet asked anyway. "What were you doing if you knew there were Demonic Boar sightings nearby?"
"Gathering Magical Herbs from a rare patch I found."
'Of course. Mage reasons...' The Gaulishman rolled his eyes. To be a Magus is to walk with death. And Accolon likely just encouraged the boy by giving him of the Boar that nearly killed him... Oh well. "Hmph... Once I finished the tea, I'll be on my way to this village then." Accolon sipped from the cup.
"Very well. I shall go prepare the honey then." Nodding Ludvig stood from his chair to go, though soon gave pause and regarded the older man once again. "Oh, I should warn you. The folk in Pæga are rather a bit... crass."
One of Accolon's brows quirked. "In what way?"
The Borzak smiled. "You'll see..." And left the room parting on such words.
Pæga was a relatively 'new' settlement as far as Angle settlements went. Average. Disposable. To be thrown away like a used tool.
Just another unimportant foundation in Mercia's expanse under King Icil's rain
But, alas, miraculous things occur bringing buds of new possibilities. So, Accolon arrived within a few hours upon the outskirts of the humble village. And the sky reddend with twilight's next approach upon the old Isles.
There were two guards stationed atop the wooden wall that surrounded the village. "Oi, oi, oi! Wake up, old man!" The younger guard named Osment, woke the older guard Bradwin up and nudged his chin towards the coming Gaulishman. "What're you make of that fellah?"
The older guard's lone-eye squinted, as he stroked a braided beard. "Exotic... Bah, I've seen some like his sort before, back when I was travelling."
"Uuh, looks kind of suspicious if you ask me." The junior guard tightened his grip around his bow.
Sighing, the senior of the two shook his head. "Lad... Yer say that about everyone new."
Looking up, the Osment's grip slackened a bit with a sigh. "Fair enough..."
Fiddling with his eyepatch. Bradwin, called over. "Halt! Speak yer business friend!"
Accolon's two blues looked up towards Bradwin's lone grey-orb. And he spoke firm. "I am here deal with your Demonic Beast problem."
The young of the two guard's gave an O' so incredulous look. Mumbling to himself, "I don't see any weapons; Hel he'd need armour for those things." He looked towards old Bradwin. "I don't trust this wanker."
"Lad... Osment... Yer never gonna get stuck in a woman if yer keep being distrustful of everything like that..." At the old guard's lament, Osment sputtered some gibrish. To which Bradwin ignored in favour for observing the Gaul. He had seen his fair share of strange things when he'd been a young adventurer, and Bradwin knew very well that a man or woman didn't need to wield a blade to be lethal; so he asked, "You a Mage?"
"Of the sort..." Accolon's expression remained even.
"Hmm..." Bradwin stared a while longer at the supposed Mage. At last coming to a decision. "Alright... But after the pigs are dead, yer have two days to piss-off outer here. Dealing with one of yer ilk's enough."
The hunter grew an amused smirk, although held some undstandnding in his gaze. "I intend to get rid of the beasts before I return in for the night and gone in the morning. "
"Good... Come on in then." The older guard looked to his junior. "Keep watch. I'll go get yer a replacement for me, while I show this sod around."
"...Right." Osment nodded, yet clearly held some form of reluctance on the matter. Though, he knew whatever he'd say would be turned down by Bradwin.
Upon entering through Pæga's gateway, Accolon was met again by the old guardsman who motioned for him to follow.
"I'm Bradwin by the by." As they began to go on their way, the eyepatched man spoke. "Yer'self?"
"Accolon." His response was curt and he cut to his own questioning: "How long have the Demonic Boars been in the area?"
"Heh, straight to the questions, eh?" Bradwin gave a chuckle. "The pigs had been around longer than Pæga has. Village's only been round half a decade. Those Demonic Beasts on the other hand..." He sighed and continued. "They'd keeped to themselves for all that time. Didn't seem like the buggers gave a sodding damn about us- Oh. Smith over there." Lazily, Bradwin nudged his head to his left.
The 'Mage' ignored the Blacksmith's workshop. Instead continuing the conversation. "What changed, then?"
The guard shook his head. "I got an idea." Seeing raised brows of question from the Gaul, Bradwin elaborated. "Look... A week ago, some poor brat thought'd be a good idea to try and kill one of the scary fuckers."
As the two passed a station of three guards lazing about, Bradwin whistled and the group looked at him. "I'm on brake. Al, keep watch with Osment." In a groan, one of the trio got up, leaving in the direction the pair came.
'A "brat"...' Somthing stirred in the Gaulishman from the word. "Oh. And what happened to this "brat?""
With little pause the answer came. Accolon guessed the likely result, but... "Pig's leave nothing but a stain... " Of course, that could only be the answer. "Someone caught the brat's mother trying to off herself after. And we had to restrain the poor gal."
"I see..." Rage... That was what churned within the hunter. A harsh flame that yearned for justice. Yet, he quenched it before it could even start it's roar; leaving it to smoulder in his gut.
"Since then, the buggers been more... aggressive. They killed some of the cattle that went a wandering near their area. They also started watching us at night. And I killed bought two, a night ago, for wandering too close to Pæga." Bradwin gave a hum as he stroked his beard. "Not sure quite how the things'd act tonight... Don't think it matters much with yer here to deal with'em and all though."
"I should think the beasts would not take it kindly at all." If anything the Demonic Boar would likely come in mass this night... It's honestly fortunate Accolon arrived today, lest the villagers be potentially overwhelmed. 'The beasts clearly had some form of an alpha among them; their actions are too intelligent, as far as normal Demonic Boars go.'
"Ah, here's the Inn." Drawn from thought, the Gaul looked at the homily building. Bradwin spoke on. "The pigs lurk somewhere northeast of the the village. Being a Mage, I guess yer'll have a means to track 'em." With a nod from the 'Mage', the guard began to depart the way they'd came. "I'll let yer get all settled in. The Innkeeper, Darlene, used to be a whore; she may let yer stay for free if yer... to her liking."
"Tempting, but I'd go to a proper brothel if I needed something of the sort." It wasn't tempting in the slightest, and Accolon's voice spoke volumes of that.
"Bahaa!" The senior guard let out a bark. "Soot yer'self. Now then..." Bradwin stroked his beard mumblin. "I have to go and make sure Osment hasn't shot Al out've suspicion..." Then gave a wave to Accolon. "Good hunting to yer, then!"
Oh...
He had no idea.
It would be much less a 'hunt', rather than a 'slaughter.'
Twilight. A grand moon hung low in the blackening heavens. The sun now far and distant over the horizon; it's light, a dieing glimpse.
In the woods there was trembling. The Boar pack moved in their red hunger, towards the crass settlement of Pæga. Birds shuddered in the trees. Twigs, brambles, and fallen branches broke, crushed beneath heavy hoofs. Their Cheif would have blood, so they would follow his grand rule.
It is unfortunate, however... that this night would have them fall into the role of game. For someone sought their blood.
And so, Accolon began his slaughter...
The first cought just the blure of somthing in the corner of its eye, but soon after, it saw the world upturned and its headless body, before Death's boney hands took away its Soul. The beast's head had been twisted-off.
"That's one..."
The next Demonic Boar saw something come from above, alas before it could look and squeal, a hand came down like the hammer of a judge into its brain.
"That's two..."
With the third, it didn't see a damn thing, as the tusk of one of its own litter flew through its eye and out the back of the Boar's head.
"That's three..."
Accolon's kill count continued to go up. Passed four... Passed eight... Passed sixteen and then twenty. A feeling built up within the Gaul. Each Demonic Boars death growing more violent and frightening than the last.
Limbs were torn asunder.
Some limbs reused as weapons.
Their eventual squeals and panic, a symphony.
Organs were thrown about like a bloody selibration of gore.
Upon the thirty-eighth kill, the settled darkness of night was illuminated by the moon.
Sat at the foot of a raw wet hill of meat. Accolon gnawed upon in his mouth the fat from one Demonic Boar he had slain along with its brothers and sisters.
The meat in all honesty was disgusting, but he had long grown used to it ages ago. He had to, to grow strong again.
The hunter then heard it. A large huff, and a puff, a stomp and thump. Their Chief had come. Rage in the beast's chest with fury in its foot. Accolon felt the Boar King's bloodlust.
This would be fun.
"YOU DARE!!!" Tree's fell over. Hooves crushed bark. The Chief bellowed as the moon revealed his monstrous white form. "Kir... You dare enact harm, UPON MY SUBJECTS?!!!"
"Surely, I dare." Accolon's grip grew tight. "I would not allow them, nor you to harm that village anymore."
"I am The White Tusk... I am Ysgithyrwyn!" A shuddering breath was made clear in the cold night. "I AM A KING!!! AND SO I SHALL PASS JUDGMENT, AS IS MY RIGHT TO RULE!!!!"
'King...?' How laughable. "Well, then..." The slaughterer blured as he vanished into speed that surprised The White Tusk. "I guess, that's my right as well!!!" And so his tightened hand rammed into the Boar Chief's side. Although, the beast had been hefted upwards it did not fly. Far too heavy even for its freakish size; further evidence of it nature as a being not born of Mankind's Age.
"HMPH!" Ysgithyrwyn's hoofs thundered onto the ground, as the Boar King regained foot hold with ground and twisted faster then size should allow; sending massive hind hooves slamming into the hunter who's eyes for a brief widened.
Accolon flew for but a moment. He flipped midair, gouging a hand and his toes into the ground coming to a swift stop and regaining his balance again. Recovering before he could tumble into a mess.
Standing up straight again, he looked toward the Demonic Beast. "It seems I underestimated you. My apologies." The slaughterer's expression changed nort in the slightest.
"Survived err...?" The Boar King gave a grunt alongside an acknowledging look. "I suppose, you have earned right to give your name."
"My name..." Magical Energy spilled worth as if a dam burst. "To men, women, and children, I am Accolon..." A grin of bloodthirst spread apart his lips. "But to monsters like you or I...?" His muscles traded places with somthing else's, and his hands were replaced by black-scaled talons marked with blue.
Bloodlust beyond humanity filled the air.
"I am Acnologia."
The Dragon Slayer disappeared faster than he had done before. A clap sounded where an empty space had been left.
Ysgithyrwyn could not grasp what happened. One moment he was stunned by bloodlust the next...
The Boar King was flying as he stared at his own headless form.
I was tempted not to do this, but I set out to do it. Critiques are welcome, by all means. I want to improve. Don't expect anything from this fanfic, it ain't my life's work.
Also... Sorry, for being late. Elden Ring is additive. Runni is Best Girl (Melina needed more screen time)... Morgot is Best Rival... Mohg is Best Ehh...
I was honestly tempted to redo this. Instead of Acnologia, I was going to change him out for Morgot or Mohg (don't ask)...
Hope this was worth it.
Thanks for reading!