Hello, ModernDayBard here! Welcome to the second chapter of Upon this Blasted Heath, my Macbeth fanfic. Pretty much this entire chapter (except when I'm talking about the witches) is a direct transcription of the first opening fight scene of Regent University's production of Macbeth.
Remember: I don't own Macbeth (plot, dialogue, or characters), and anything in bold and italics are words that are either Shakespeare's or part of the prologue of Regent University's production of this show. However, the words with which I narrate and the new direction this story takes are completely my own.
In a twisted ruin that was once an IT firm's office building in the days before the virus, three figures watched as the large screen in front of them flickered to life, showing their master's champion-pawn, Macdonwald.
The watchers may have been women once, but now they were barely even human. They pre-dated the catastrophe themselves, being a part of the order that had released the virus and withheld the cure until the very end, vanishing as civilization collapsed and taking the secrets of technology with them. Their mysterious 'master'— who refused to meet them in public and went only by the moniker of 'Hecate'—directed them in the use of technology to extend their life: replacing flesh with machine parts as it wore down.
At first, the three 'sisters' had wondered about the true identity of Hecate, and what he'd intended to accomplish the virus and the subsequent collapse of society, but as the years turned to decades, they abandoned the fruitless attempts, and instead drew a sadistic pleasure from observing the chaos he caused, helping when he would allow them. They also found it amusing how quickly humanity had forgotten technology and its power, terming the three 'witches' on the rare occasions that Hecate's orders brought them into contact with the pitiable remnants the virus had left behind.
For now, the three 'weird sisters' were alone, watching the battles unfold, snickering at how easy it was for them and Hecate's other followers to find someone to rise up against the rightful king, no matter how justly and honorably he reigned.
Macdonwald found herself surrounded by four warriors who had managed to slip past what remained of the fighters who'd followed her. They wore full-face masks, the tell-tale sign of non-noble fighters—mercenaries maybe? Not that it mattered to the rebel who was now forced to fight for her life.
The first attacker roared as he swung his makeshift axe at her head. Macdonwald ducked under the kill-blow, letting her opponent's momentum carry him in an almost-complete circle. While he was still stumbling, the black-haired rebel swung her great sword with tired and blood-streaked arms at the second attacker who dared to approach her. The flail-wielder leaped back to keep his intestines inside, but—since he was uninjured—he prepared to attack again as soon as Macdonwald's back was to him.
His opportunity came in the next few moments, as the rebel turned to face the machete-bearing fighter behind her. She parried a strike that would've split her skull and, while their blades were still locked, she saw movement out of her corner of her eye. Reacting instinctively, she kicked out, catching the second attacker in the midriff and temporarily winding him. With a twist, she disengaged from the machete-wielder, knocking his weapon a side and creating a deep gash on his right arm. With a yell, he dropped temporarily out of the fight as well.
Macdonwald had no respite, however, having to duck under another axe-strike from the first fighter, taking the opportunity to slice through his armor (such as it was) at his stomach-level. Now bleeding out, the axe-fighter stumbled away, yet another victim of Macdonwald's battle-prowess and desperation. Paying him no heed, the rebel let her momentum carry her around to face the fourth and final warrior as he charged her, hammer in hand.
Macdonwald caught the repurposed croquet mallet on her leaf-shaped sword, twisting it to the side much as she had done with the machete only seconds before, but this time, instead of only drawing her blade across her opponent's arm, her aim was higher—his throat.
Now only two of the four attackers remained. Both tried to attack Macdonwald at once from opposite sides, but the rebel Thane used this to her advantage. Knowing the long chain of the flail would force the machete-fighter to hesitate, maybe even flinch, Macdonwald kept low, focusing most of her attention on the second fighter. As he charged her, she lunged deeply, her sword sinking into him, up to half its blade.
The flail dropped from nerveless hands, and the dying man dropped to the ground as the rebel pulled her bloody blade free, dragging himself away as if trying to get back to the main unit and the medics, but expiring before he'd made it more than a few feet.
The last warrior standing, the one with the machete, had hesitated in his attack as expected, but now continued through with his intended strike. Macdonwald parried two or three of his attacks, before lunging forward with one of her own. The masked fighter leaped back, then caught a follow-up over-head-strike with a two-handed parry. Desperate, he pushed back with their blades still locked together, forcing the rebel to one knee. With a yell, Macdonwald forced the locked blades to the side, then reached into her belt, withdrawing her secret weapon.
Upon first rebelling, Macdonwald had been met by three inhuman figures who'd handed her a small, strange black box that mysteriously caused agony in any who came into contact with the top of it.
Whatever strange magic powered he weapon was beyond Macdonwald's comprehension, but its use had been proven time and again in the early days of the rebellion, and so it did now. Her opponent staggered back, almost dropping his weapon, and Macdonwald stood up, casually taking a moment to holster the strange box before impaling him on her blade.
The dying man tried to swing at her one more time, but she caught his wrist and forced his weapon down. Planting a foot on his chest, she pulled her blade free, internally marveling that he was still managing to stand more-or-less upright. With a yell, Macdonwald brought her sword around in a wide arc, catching him just under the chin and dispatching the last warrior for good.
The weird sisters watched intently, grinning at the grisly images on the screen as their master's champion-pawn mowed down the foolish warriors who dared to challenge her. Just as the last of the four dropped however, movement behind Macdonwald caught their eye: yet another unit of the king's soldiers were coming over the rise, most taking on and quickly dispatching the last of Macdonwald's followers, but the leader making straight for the rebel Thane.
The watchers hissed in distaste at the twin flashes of fiery red hair that were evidence that the king's children, Malcolm and Donalbain, were a part of the unit. That meant the bald and clean-shaven man now making for Macdonwald was none other than the Thane of Glamis, Macbeth.
Witches, rebels, and tasers—oh, my! If you had trouble picturing the fight scene and want to see it actually unfold, here's the link to a YouTube video of the fight, just take out the spaces and watch away: www. youtube watch?v= Fm0rTg1w6_E (Fair warning: if you watch to the end of the video, there will be spoilers for next week's chapter. If you don't want to see them, stop the video when the fourth fighter dies.)
Oh, and if the titles of the chapters look or sound weird, all of them are lines or phrases from the actual play (with the exception of 'Prologue,' of course).
If you like it, or if you see something that I can improve on, don't hesitate to leave a review and let me know!