Edgey Mcedgerton MC (Valkryie/Dark Valkryie)

>Life in the village was never the most exciting thing, its location deep within order territory protecting you from wild monsters and the demon lords armies.

>In fact, the only excitement that ever seemed to happen was Old Haps getting drunk and riding farmer Mccoy's bull.

>You're parents were farmers, just like their parents and the parents before them. Your life consisted of feeding animals, tending to crops, and repairing whatever was broken.

>What little spare time you had was spent with the town millitia, practicing with rusted weapons and listening to the older boys talk about the times they ran off a thug or two.

>The only one who never shared his stories was the leader, a scarred old man by the name of Michael. Whenever you asked he would simply shake his head.

>"You don't want to hear my stories boy..." he would say, eyes glazing over. "Nothing in them needs to be retold or should."

>You would then groan and run back to the other boys, training with dulled spear, rusty axe, and cracked bow.

>You always wished that something exciting would happen, maybe a bandit or two for you to fight.

>You would swoop in with your sword, moving so fast that the criminals wouldn't be able to keep up. With a snikersnack their heads would tumble to the ground as you sheathed your sword, both of them slain in a single stroke.

>You would always dream of tales like this and many others, always wishing that something....ANYTHING....would happen to take away the tedium of harvesting crops and milking cows

>You would always wonder, years later, if your wishing was responsible for what happened. If some maligned force heard your pleas and answered them.

>It was on your fourteenth birthday that you learned one of life's harshest lessons.

>There are no heroes if there is no trouble.

>This morning started like every other morning, a breakfast of stale bread and cold, watery mead before milking cows and feeding chickens before tending the crops.

>Your dad let you go early today, your family was ahead of schedule so they could afford you spending a little bit of extra free time.

>You had gone to the militia's house again, continuing to train with antiquated weaponry and listening to the same old tales told again.

>You didn't hear the screams until the men had reached the center of town.

>Army deserters, men who had turned their back on friends and loyalty for another day of life. They were dead men and they knew it, if they were going to die then why shouldn't they live life to the fullest?

>Whether it was for food, riches, or some other reason, they had picked your village.

>With lit torches and brandished steel they marched, stealing what they could, burning what they couldn't, and giving the cold kiss of the axe to whomever stood in their way.

>The militia retaliated as best they could but years of attacking dummies and running off drunks could not compare to real training and the rigors of war.

>You witnessed real battle for the first time that day. The ordered battle lines and personal duels of your dreams shattering as men wrestled in the mud with daggers, brained each other with rocks, and strangled each other with bare hands.

>You fought alongside Gregory, the blacksmith's son, until an arrow to the throat slew him.

>You could only watch in abject horror as your oldest friend, Thomas, was hauled to the ground by a brute of a man and stabbed to death.

>It was only Michael who kept the pathetic "battle" from becoming a route, bellowing orders as he fought in his old chainmail and wielded his heavy hammer.

>But even his veteran experience could not save you all forever, bit by bit you were driven back until you were all backed into the militia hall.

>It was there that you lost your left eye.

>The inside of the hall was a bloodbath, arrows flew out of, and into, the windows as the two groups brawled within.

>Fatigue filled your body as you grabbed the screaming Francis' spear, trying not to vomit as he fumbled for his spilled guts.

>You frantically stabbed at his killer, your veteran opponent twisting around your probing attacks.

>You could not hit him but he could not reach you, a slow dance that only delayed the inevitable. Your strength was faltering and your comrades were dying.

>With a scream, you dived forward as he charged at you.

>Luck, rather than skill, killed him. Your spear piercing his eye and entering his skull, sending him down in a bloody, convulsing mess.

>There was no joy, no victorious cheer, only a sickening feeling in your stomach at your first kill.

>And a searing agony as the mace struck your ribs, shattering them.

>An overgrown brute with a broken nose and a bloodied mace stood over you, gloating in his cheap shot when it was returned seven fold.

>Micheal saved your life by taking your opponents, breaking his neck with a high hit.

>You wanted to thank the man but pain silenced you. Despite the energy he moved with, the old man had never looked older than he did now.

>He gave you one last look before he giving the call to surrender, the few surviving militia members throwing down their weapons as the leader of the raiders stepped forward.

>The leader did not look like a fearsome warlord or barbarian king, he had bland features, black eyes and brown hair.

>He was a man of business, asking our demands and giving his own. It was well within his power to crush us but we, or at least Michael, would take some of his men with us.

>A deal was quickly struck. Of the remaining seven militia, they would let only one live.

>The rest would be put to the sword.

>You tried to reject the terms, trying to tell the other men to not give up.

>The remaining militia picked you, the youngest, to live.

>It was a scene that would be ingrained in your memory forever. Each militia member's throat being cut one by one.

>Some gave parting curses, others prayed to the chief god, a few met their end in silence.

>Michael died smiling, happy that at least one you would survive.

>With the dead done the leader looked to you, pointing at your first kill.

>"I gave my word to a fellow fighter," He said drawing a dagger. "but I can't let my man die without a bit of revenge for him."

>You killed his man by stabbing him in the eye, it was only fitting that he took yours.

>They tied you up and left you there, a bloody, half blind wreck.

>An hour.....a day.....You don't know how long you waited but eventually someone came.

>She came.

>She was tall, standing a head taller than you and clad in silver plate. In one hand she held a great shield and, in the other, a golden sword. The only part that remained uncovered was her face.

>She had pale skin and angled features, her nose tapering up a bit while her cold, blue eyes judged you. Her long, golden hair flowed freely.

>She was beautiful....

>She was not human.

>From her back sprouted four white wings, marking her as a servant of the chief god.

>A warrior maiden.

> A Valkyrie.

>"Are you anon?" She asked, her expression unchanging in the charnel house .

>"Yes," you said as she cut the ropes that bound you.

>"The chief god has chosen you to become a warrior of light and a leader of humanity."

>"You are to become a hero." She said, looking down at you with an emotionless face.

>Hero.... The word tasted like ashes in your mouth.

>Her name was Herja, and she was to become your instructor.

>She took your from the town immediately, stating that there was nothing left for you there. You did not belong to that town, that home, or that family.

>Your life belonged to the Chief god, and it shall be used to save humanity.

>Your life on the farm had been a holiday compared to your training.

>Everyday you would be awakened before dawn, feeding on a meager breakfast of dried meat and bread before training.

>Weapons of all sizes, shapes, and types were made available to you. Your status as a "Hero' giving you access to the best weapons and armor available.

>Herja would duel you each day, never holding back with her blazing sword as she beat you bloody, healing you after each bout and explaining why you had lost.

>She would have you run laps in weighted armor under the midday sun and break rocks for hours on end. Toughening your body and burning away what little fat you had.

>She even taught you to read so that your nights could be spent studying ancient tomes of arcane lore, schooling you in the ways of light magic.

>Despite all her constant presence and instruction, you never really spoke to Herja. The valkyrie's answers to your questions were monosyllabic at most.

>She always maintained the icy cold demeanor whenever she was with you. Never once showing surprise, anger, or sorrow.

>It was not until you beat her in a duel during your second year of training that she showed a new expression. One of muted pride as you held the sword point to her throat.

>Something in Herja changed after that day.

>She would rest with you between training sessions, answering your questions about the heavens and herself.

>One day you asked her why she chose you.

>"The chief god told me to come." She said, almost proud f the answer.

>"And if you hadn't been told would you have still come?" You asked, more from curiosity than anything.

>She fell quiet, frowning as she thought.

>"No" The Valkyrie told you, sounding a little sad. "I would not."

>Your training soon drew to a close, Herja stating that she had no more to teach you. On that day you officially joined the order as a hero and received your first orders.

>Cleanse the town of Velstar.

>Velstar was a town just inside of a demon realm, its human citizens turning their backs on the chief god to indulge in the dark pleasures of inhuman monsters.

>It took two weeks for you to get there, marching alongside peasant levies, armored knights, and fellow heroes.

>The environment slowly changed as you marched, the sky blackening and plants twisting with corruption.

>"Beware anon," Herja said, your angelic guardian remaining by your side. "These lands can corrupt even the purest souls in a moment of weakness."

>You did little more than grunt. Strength, weakness neither of those would matter.

>The town would be cleansed, you would make sure of that.

>The town was unimpressive, wooden barricades of boxes and wagons filling the entrances with man and monster behind them.

>The men around you roared as the order was given, shouting battle cries and prayers.

>You remained silent, this is your duty. Nothing more.

>Arrows flew as your forces charged, striking down men to your left and right.

>You continued without a care, your armor shielding you from the projectiles.

>Winged creatures snatched men, carrying them off as the men screamed.

>Those that came for you were claimed by your axe or Herja's sword, clean kills that silenced them in an instant.

>The barricades burst into flame and shattered as the mage set them alight, the defenders catching fire or being put down by the archer's arrows.

>"That fool of a mage has created another barrier with his fire." Herja said angrily. "We must go around."

>You ignored her, uttering a prayer as a golden light surrounded you. Your pace increased as holy energies augmented your muscles, leaving the valkyrie behind you as you leapt skyward.

>Your magically assisted jump allowed you to sail over the flaming barrier with your halberd drawn.

>Your first victim died quickly, the head of your halberd bursting through his chest as you landed.

>Ten defenders remained behind the barricade, men and monster in equal measure. A normal man would have been been overwhelmed in a moment but you were a hero, odds no longer mattered.

>A lizard like monster reacted first, screaming in hate as she charged you.

>A simple swing ended the monster as you caved her head in.

>From there it became a simple affair.

>A slash to the groin followed by a cut the the throat.

>Remove the wing and stab the heart.

>Kick the knee, break the neck.

>The wailed as you killed, pleading to the end.

>You gave them the mercy of a quick death.

>Punch the gut and sever the spine.

>Stab the lung then stab the eye.

>How dare they have the audacity to ask why you were doing this when it was THEY who had turned their back on humanity.

>Anger drove you forward, powering your frenzy.

>Weapon destroyed, break the arm, break the neck.

>One on your back, sudden pain.

>IGNORE IT.

>Slam it on the ground, grab its neck. SQUEEZE.

>Arrows in chest, continue forward. Punch in the head, punch in the head, PUNCH IN THE HEAD, PUNCHINTHEHEADPUNCHINTHEHEADPUNCHINTHEHEADPUNCHINTHEHEAD

>Enemy scattered, prisoners taken.

>Torch the town.

>Take an axe. Prisoners gone.

>It is dawn of the next day when the fury fades, leaving you in the ashes of the town with a worried looking Herja.

>"Anon, you are injured." She is saying, one armored hand resting on your should "Please let me treat you."

>You shrug her off, you cannot feel it an there are others who need it more.

>"I am your guardian anon." She says, expression tight. "Not their's."

>"I do not need it Herja." you tell the valkyrie, brushing her arm off you. "I am a hero after all."

>She almost looks like she is crying as you walk off, sweeping the town one last time.

>Thus your legand began.

>Anon, The Butcher

>The Relentless

>The Bloody Handed

>You became synonymous with slaughter and destruction throughout the demon realms.

>Within the order you called a hero, even if it was in name only.

>In practice you were little more than a weapon for them, something to be hurled into the breach without care.

>Other heroes disdained your presence, writing you off as a monster in human skin.

>You did not care.

>Peasants quaked at your presence, avoiding your eye and whispering prayers.

>You did not care.

>The order soon found that fewer and fewer forces would march alongside you. So they set you to the task of hunting deserters, a task you relished.

>The only one who remained with you was Herja, the valkyrie following you every step of the way.

>Her conviction had begun to falter however, her expression become more uncertain with each group you hunted down.

>"Are you proud Anon?" she asked one day, watching as you burned the bodies of your latest quarry. "Is this the hero you wanted to be?"

>"I have no need for pride Herja" You say, turning to her. "and it does not matter what I want, I am a hero in the chief gods service. Nothing more, Nothing less."

>"That does not answer my question Anon." she says. "Are you happy?"

>"I did not answer because I cannot." You say "I am a hero, nothing more."

>You meet her blue eyes. "How about you Herja? Are you happy?"

>She is quiet for the longest time before turning away from you.

>You can almost swear that she was crying.

>"No anon, I am not. I was charged with raising a hero, not creating a beast."

>Slowly the valkryie begins to disappear, light flaking off her.

>"I cannot follow you anymore Anon." She says, her voice choking up. "I wish I had the power to save you from this fate."

>Your heart stops for a second as you last, and possibly only, friend leaves you.

>"What is the chief god telling you Herja?" you ask. "Have I failed the order in some way?"

>"I do not know what the chief god says," Herja's voice cries as she disappears "and I do no longer care."

>And then you were alone.

>Once again, you were abandoned, cast adrift in an uncaring world.

>The only fixed figure in your life, Herja, had left you.

>You buried yourself in your work. Hunting down deserters and traitors where ever they hid.

>You were good at your job...too good.

The fear you had inspired in your foes had now spread to your so called allies.

>"When will the executioner come for me?" they wondered.

>"Is today the day he turns on us?" They whispered.

>You did nothing to allay these fears. Why should you? You are a hero!

>Sadly, paranoia won out in the end.

>The hero Victor, the Gleaming Blade, The Dawn Knight was the one they sent.

>Victor was the ideal hero in the eye's of the church. Handsome where you were ugly.

>Well spoken while you were brusk.

>Adored while you were feared.

>A chivalrous soul send to end the terror of Anon the Butcher.

>He found you in the wilds and made his intentions known.

>"The only way I leave is with your head, beast!"

>You responded by swinging your halberd.

>Victor was your equal in skill and strength, his triumphs and victories equaling your own.

>The fight lasted for half a day, the forest shaking as the two of you clashed.

>You hit harder but he was faster.. You had greater reach but he had better defenses, his gilded armor covered in blessings and wards.

>You tried to call upon the chief god but to no avail.

>It seems that even your god had abandoned you to die.

>Still, you were a hero.

>You would not die easily.

>It was now or never, with a fearsome shout you leapt forward as he lunged at you.

>You halberd met air.

>His sword found your chest, piercing your worn steel plate.

>"Any last words monster?" he asked, smiling a gleaming smile.

>You grabbed his arm and pulled him down to you. Headbutting his handsome face.

>The sword drove deeper into your guts but you did not care.

>Reaching up with your free hand you grabbed his neck and twisted. A last act before all went black

>You floated in darkness.....body drifting in a black sea

>"A....."

>"Is this how it ends?" you thought "Stabbed in the back by the very people I defended?"

>"An....."

>You wanted to feel hatred, to feel righteous fury...Instead you just felt tired...

>"ANON!"

>Your eye opened as your name was called, a starry sky hanging above you.

>And....her face...Herja's face...

>"You're alive.." she whispered, tears forming at the edge of her eyes. "You're alive!"

>You noticed that she looked different . Her golden locks were now an ash grey and her pale, peach skin was now a bluish grey.

>"Herja?" you ask, feeling as weak as you were on the first day you met her. "What are you doing?"

>"I'm your guardian." She said, her hand glowing as she healed your wounds. "I would speak ill of me if I let you die here."

>You wanted to speak but words failed, you felt your heart thump and you patted her head, drawing a happy giggle from her.

>"I can take this life away anon..." She said, expression sad. "You won't have to fight anymore, it will just be you and me....together forever."

>"B-but why?" you asked, looking up at her.

>"Because I am the reason you became like this." She said, angry at herself. "I was meant to be your guardian but I did little more than make you a weapon....I'm fixing that!"

>Her hand moved away, leaving your stomach unwounded. You unsteadily stand, Herja lending you a shoulder.

>Was it so easy? Could this all go away?

>.....

>....No.....you have one last thing to do....

>"I'm sorry Herja.." You say, gently pushing her away. "I still have some work to do..."

>Thats right..there are still traitors....the one who set Victor on you, who stabbed you in the back.

>"Then I will go with you anon." the valkryie said, patting her sword and shield. "I shall not fail you again."

>You smile for the first time in years...a genuine warm smile

>This plan is suicide but you don't care about the odds anymore

>You're a hero after all.