Godsbane, Thumbs 1

EXT. FOREST OF EIDHIN, SUNSET
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There are shots of the forest before the scene closes in on the footsteps of STEWART, frantically running away through the salmon glow thick forest trees at sunset, his shoes beating against the shifting dirt and roots laden on the forest floor. STEWART is scratched and clawed at, clearly having taken some injury beforehand. Trying to scamper away from the snarling and growling beasts, the tip of his shoe knocked against a wayward root and he crashes onto the floor. The beasts that were chasing him, with bared fangs and dripping an ooze of inky darkness. They snarl at him and leer hungrily--he could try to run again, but he knows it’s be for naught. Accepting his fate, he shut his eyes tightly and tensed his body, fearing the worst.

There is a pause.

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He no longer heard the barking and snarling but only a slow, even growls, then the cry of a horse and a clanking of metal, and when he opened his eyes, the scene had changed.

A figure stood before him; MORRIGHAN, a solemn, dark haired, and tall woman clad in glossy yet nicked and slightly worn armor.

MORRIGHAN
Shield yourself.

She drew her sword, a long, tapered blade cast in iron and steadied her stance. STEWART scrambles around on the ground for something to use as a weapon eventually settling upon a medium sized stick. He feebly readies it shaking in a low stance behind her. In front of her were three wolves, although they looked much different from normal, their fur taking on a black color deeper than she'd ever seen. Their teeth bared and hunger dripped from their maws, and there was little time to assess them before they made her their dinner.

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Watching from the safety of the worn and knotted trunk, STEWART looked up at MORRIGHAN, as she began staving off the creatures. The wolves attacked at once, but as they came she was felling them just as quickly, one-by-one, needing only a quick blow or a decisive strike before stopping them for good. Her approach to fighting felt calculated, yet adaptable, her swordplay swift and decisive, and in a matter of minutes the foul beasts were slain, the smell of rank blood emanating into the air.

Save for one. While MORRIGHAN dealt with the others, STEWART makes a mad dash for the horses. One of the wolves tries to break away and rush him. Before it can, however, MORRIGHAN takes a few quick steps and decapitates him.

MORRIGHAN wiped the blood from the metal with her glove and pauldron before wiping it on the bark of a tree, and then walked towards the MAN. She kneeled down to meet his cowering form and extended a non-bloody hand out to him.

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 MORRIGHAN
Are you well?

STEWART, shivering in fear looked around frantically, looking around the trees and bushes for any signs of more impending monsters.

STEWART
A-Are they gone? There must be more of them! We need to run.

The WOMAN simply looks back at the dead wolves, oozing guts and blood on the ground, before looking back at him slightly incredulously. The MAN picks himself up and tries not to look as craven. He searches himself for damages and looks around for his bag. The WOMAN gives a subtle smile to ease his fear.

MORRIGHAN
We’re safe for now.

STEWART
Thought it was all going to end… Lucky to have you come by.

He cringes, as now he's letting the gravity of accepting the death catch up to him. He's trailed off in a sentence because he probably wasn't fully accepting he'd be ripped apart and devoured.

STEWART
...Luck and foul, cruel fate.

When he opens his eyes and stops cringing he catches sight of her brooch and that pales him a little, despite accepting his death this would be the most frightening thing he's seen today. It implies a much greater situation he's not a part of.

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STEWART
World’s gone mad, innit? You’re not a brigand, are you?

MORRIGHAN
Morrighan. Of Ulster.

The MAN’s expression shifts as he realizes who the WOMAN must be. Morrighan sees this and subtly grimaces.

STEWART
M-Morrighan of Ulster...Bane of the Gods.

MORRIGHAN averts her gaze and rubs the back of her neck, aware of her title but clearly unhappy with it. She reassesses the surroundings at this time, looking to see if anything else is looming. STEWART sucks at his teeth.

STEWART
Foul fate indeed. Still, luck though.

MORRIGHAN finds nothing, and turns back to him, suspicious.

MORRIGHAN
And you are?

STEWART stumbles a little at the question, a slight fidget of uncertainty as answering and giving her his name might have mythical connotations and certainly means he's now part of something larger than him. He says his name somewhat nervous and forcing himself to do so.

STEWART
Stewart, pleased to have had your assistance and meet your acquaintance.