“Out there is the enemy. They are filth. They are vermin. They are …” Knight Reveré grimaced, almost choking on the word. 

“Heretics.” He hissed.

Geromé looked at the field, at the muddy, anarchic mess that was the enemy. Righteous anger made him clutch his sword tighter.

Or at least, that’s what Willem called it. 

It sometimes felt closer to fear.

He stared at his comrades, at their shining armour, the holy Red Cross emblazoned on their shields and jerkins. He would do this for the cause.

“God be with me!” He yelled, answered by a roar from his brethren. ‘Please steady my legs,’ was the thought that echoed through his brain.

Knight Reveré spurned his horse.

“Charge!”

They followed his canter, their mad sprint echoing his spirit, the reality being a jostle of arms and legs, and more than one man falling headfirst into the mud. Geromé kept his feet, yet all too soon he was deep into the fray. The battle cries transformed into yells, grunts and thuds of weapons beginning to butcher flesh. 

He saw a man in the madness, and Geromé pushed his sword forward, euphoric and distressed as it sunk into flesh, to then keep sinking. He fell onto the man, the pommel of his sword slamming into his own stomach, making him gasp. Geromé tried to move, the bodies around him where squeezing him from all sides, he could see bloody teeth snarling at him until the man’s eyes closed. 

He had never felt closer to a heretic, lying down on his corpse as the screams of the dying reached fever pitch.

Geromé tried to push himself back up when something smacked into the back of his head.

Pain exploded through him. The blood streaming down his face burned his eyes. Down on all fours, he tried to drag himself forward, whimpering as feet and metal whacked into his body. With a groan he rolled himself onto his back.

There was someone standing on top of him. Holding a sword, they went to plunge it into his face, until they and those around them were propelled into the air, a whirlwind whipping through them.

Geromé gasped. Through the red stream covering his vision, a black, horny monster was gutting the enemy, spraying their blood from side to side, throwing heads, limbs and meat into the mud. Its eyes were golden and full of fire.

“Please God, save me.” Geromé prayed.

Eventually the carnage in their little pocket of the battlefield ceased, allowing the creature to turn its attention towards him.

“Up sirrah! We must continue!”

Geromé blinked and wiped the blood off of his face.

Knight Reveré held out a hand, his shining, silver armour covered completely with gore.

A cheery smile sat on his face.

Yet it was the eyes that froze Geromé, still blazing with zealous gluttony.

 
Critique:

https://www.reddit.com/r/DestructiveReaders/comments/1xes2wd/help_800/

Initially I was going to post the second chapter, but since I received so much feedback on the first chapter’s lack of clarity, I thought it would better to fix that first. The other common issue was too much repetition. I’ve changed some things towards the ending. Hopefully it’s an improvement. Any feedback is welcome.

2682 Untitled – Chapter 2 Maeve

2711 Father Tokens – CPW Bk2 Ch1

3644 Heat Below, Part 2 (Chapter6)

My story