Swords
(working title)
by
Ignatius Fischer
FADE IN:
EXT. FOREST - DAY (MORNING)
A TREE TRUNK; crows caw.
TRACKING A BLACK BEETLE as it crawls over a twig and onto a crimson cloth that moves, tipping the beetle over.
The TREE TRUNK, revealed to be a clean-cut STUMP on which is an ONION, halved and quartered but not skinned, rocking slightly.
IN PROFILE, a cloaked man, the BLACKGUARD, eats.
CLOSE on the BLACKGUARD crunching a piece of raw onion like it's an apple.
TRACKING ACROSS THE GROUND again ... a leather satchel comes into frame, crosses, and is picked up by a weathered hand and opened.
A hard, dry sausage, a half-wheel of cheese, and two small apples are dumped on the tree stump.
TRACKING across the forest, low to the ground, and the tips of a WOMAN'S bare feet come into frame, and then the red cloth that is her dress. TRACK into a TIGHT ANGLE ON HER FACE, smudged and sleeping, sideways in frame ... someone moves in the b/g.
WIDE; the WOMAN in red, supine, and the BLACKGUARD bent over the tree stump.
REVERSE ANGLE, the camp seen from the opposite side, THROUGH THE TREES.
CLOSE ON THE SAUSAGE being cut on the tree stump; when he sets a wooden bowl on the tree stump we notice the HILT OF HIS SWORD. He places the chunks of food into the bowl.
LOW ANGLE, looking up past the WOMAN as the BLACKGUARD looms over her.
He kneels and sets the bowl of food in front of her.
He pauses, and looks differently at her ... he pushes his hood back and leans down, slowly, his right hand coming up to touch her neck, like he's going to kiss her - a distant, wooden SNAP -
HER EYES POP OPEN/HIS HEAD SNAPS UP.
WHIP PAN to the EMPTY FOREST.
ECU on his EYES - he knows who's coming and why.
MEDIUM WIDE on the BLACKGUARD, still half-crouched over the WOMAN - his sword leaps out of its sheath, it's point hovering in front of us.
He stands, steps back while tossing the sword to his left hand so he can pull his cloak off with his right.
REVERSE ANGLE, LOW, the CLOAK falls into frame as his boots step over the woman's prone form.
He strides forward, tossing the sword back to his right, getting himself between the woman and their enemies, forcibly assuming a defensive stance.
FLYING past him as he looks from side to side, trying to discern, in some hunter's fashion, from which direction the threat will come.
CONTINUE MOVE, PAN AROUND, out of the trees march two KNIGHTS, one shorter, barrel-chested and dark, the other light, tall, whip-thin and mean.
VARIOUS ANGLES; the Blackguard flips the sword from hand to hand, shaking out his arms, limbering up, silent snarls flashing across his face.
LOW ANGLE, WIDE, his ROCKING LEGS in frame, the knights in focus out there ahead of us ... another TWIG CRACKS, to the side -
WHIP-PAN onto the forest there, DOLLY BACK, RACK FOCUS to his leg as his hand pulls a DAGGER from the cuff of his boot.
The KNIGHTS, staring.
ANGLE ON THE BLACKGUARD working a kink in his neck, moving forward, sword coming up as he shifts momentum, SPINNING TO CAMERA RIGHT, carrying the motion through to savagely whip the dagger -
WHIP-PAN THUK! into a MAN-AT-ARMS attacking from the flank, knocking him off his feet.
ON THE GROUND, WIDE - WHUD!! the Man-At-Arms lands in frame, gurgling wetly, eyes rolling
BACK ON THE BLACKGUARD as he whips his sword around -
to beat away the incoming blade of a SECOND MAN-AT-ARMS attacking from the opposite flank.
MAN-AT-ARMS POV: after beating away the first attack, the Blackguard SNARLS and SMASHES at him, brutally hammering the sword from his hands, and carving a savage back-hand through the poor fool.
Blood spatters the grass.
HANDHELD ON THE BLACKGUARD, amped up, turning to face the two Knights; the THUD of the Man-At-Arms falling off-screen.
The tall knight, SER LARCHMONT, Captain of the Guard, glaring coldly at us, turns his head to look at his master, the BARON. But the Baron does not look away from the Blackguard.
LARCHMONT turns grimly back to the man they've been hunting for days and draws his sword-catcher, readying for the melee.
FROM OVER THE BLACKGUARD'S SHOULDER, Larchmont advances, tense, focused, flanking to the right.
BLACKGUARD'S POV (HANDHELD): Pan with Larchmont, WHIP over to the BARON, WHIP BACK to LARCHMONT, our sword bobbing in frame.
REVERSE, the BLACKGUARD sizes the Captain up, watching his opponent's reactions.
UNDER THE BLACKGUARD'S SHOULDER as he deflects a probing swipe from Larchmont and LUNGES, thrusting.
WIDE, TRACKING WITH BLACKGUARD'S ATTACK, he almost sticks the Captain who somehow slips away from the blade.
KLAK KLAK KLAK, Larchmont returns fire, throwing fistfuls of steel at the Blackguard.
OVER THE CAPTAIN'S SHOULDER, KLANG KLANG KLANG, vicious whirl of blades, KLANG KLANG KLAKTCH -
LARCHMONT LOCKS THE BLACKGUARD'S BLADE between his swordbreaker and long sword, and the fighters strain against each other ... it's all Larchmont can do to keep the Blackguard from ripping through him, their arms trembling, vibrating with the tension cording up their forearms ...
The Blackguard gives in, frees his blade and Larchmont stings him with a quick slash at his thigh, drawing blood and a grunt from the Blackguard.
The Blackguard attacks, off-balance, to keep the Captain at bay but Larchmont parries easily and stabs with the swordbreaker, piercing the Blackguard's shoulder.
The WOMAN'S EYES flick from the Blackguard to the Baron.
PAN AROUND, TO THE BARON, slow push on him ... the combatants' blades crash in front of us.
The Blackguard and Larchmont rebound, then close again slowly, hovering on the verge of striking ... two cats sizing each other up, searching for a weakness ...
KLAK KLAK! The Captain attacks, the BLACKGUARD parries, feints, smashes aside the attacking blades and plunges his sword into LARCHMONT'S exposed armpit.
The steel slides in, almost slowly, and LARCHMONT'S FACE contorts as he SCREAMS, hideous, nerve-wracking.
The BLACKGUARD wrenches the blade a quarter turn and pulls it free, extracting another horrendous screech.
LARCHMONT sinks to his knees, eyes rolling up in his head, head lolling backward as if he's going to topple ...
REVERSE ANGLE, LARCHMONT pitches forward, revealing the stricken WOMAN, paralyzed by shock and horror.
SLOW PUSH on the BARON'S EYES, his reaction to the loss of a trusted man, the Captain of his guards, someone more friend than anything.
LOW ANGLE, looking up at the Blackguard wounded and winded from the duel, TILT DOWN to reveal the Baron's armored feet running towards us -
OVER THE BARON'S SHOULDER (HANDHELD), running fast, the Blackguard turning to face us, not fast enough, WHAMM!!
The Baron bodily punches the Blackguard off his feet.
REVERSE ANGLE, LOW (on the ground), the Blackguard arcing backwards to bang down right in our faces.
The Baron moves in with his sword, cutting laterally, but the Blackguard somehow gets his blade up to meet it CLANG! CLANG!! CLANG!!! the camera jerking with each impact.
The Baron lunges and the Blackguard rolls across camera -
and up to his feet, blade extended, protecting the woman, sneering. He grabs the blade with his scarred hand and runs the blade across it, drawing blood and the blade smolders with dark magic, but the Baron charges with a battle cry and the Blackguard rushes to meet him, the blades kiss low-high-low, the Baron goes high again and the Blackguard slides low, dropping to his knee and swinging with such ferocity, WHICK-SHINNNNG ...
Everything slows ...
The Blackguard holds his follow-through, blood running off the end of his sword -
TIGHT ON THE BARON, who rises slightly, then drifts out of frame -
TRACKING along the Blackguard's blade as the smoldering magic dissipates, TRACKING across the Baron's armored boots, severed above the ankles, plate mail and legs neatly sliced, blood welling up and overflowing the tops of the boots, the cross-section of red meat and white bone, and the BARON crashes down in the b/g.
PUSH IN ON THE MOANING BARON, his expression terrified, the pain excruciating.
TIGHT on BLACKGUARD'S EYES, PULL BACK revealing the Baron's head in f/g, the Blackguard leans in, glaring.
BLACKGUARD
I told you ... she's mine.
WIDE; he lurches away.
Things are thrust into the satchel, TILT DOWN, reveal the base of the tree stump, his hands lifting up a previously obscured rope.
TRACK along the rope as he pulls it taught, which ends in knots around the WOMAN'S arms, which are bound behind her back, previously hidden by her flowing sleeves.
He yanks her up, frantic.
BLACKGUARD
Move, on your feet!
He shoves her forward, down the trail, and as they pass the Baron, bleeding to death on the ruddy ground, she looses a half-sob she was almost strong enough to suppress - she can't hold it in now, the sudden loss of her husband, a man who not only fought for her, but died for her as well.
HER POV TRACKING PAST THE BARON (HANDHELD), his terribly pained eyes expressing what his voice cannot, a feeble hand reaching for her, weakly ...
CRANING DOWN FROM A HIGH ANGLE, the Blackguard and the sobbing Baroness disappear into the woods; CONTINUE CRANING to reveal the dying Baron's face on one side of the frame, blood trickling from his mouth.
ROLL CREDITS.
FADE OUT.