I don't know if this belongs here but i'mma do it.
Bored of the peace of castle life and being among those who would simply bow to him out of subservience, Crown Prince of Onerholt, Wilhart stole away one eve and never looked back. He wandered until he came upon the village of Halsgrof, which he noted had surprisingly few guards, even for being a smaller village as it was. It was here that he had been taken in and cared for by a kindly family for a week in turn for labor services. They fed him and even bade him stay in their home. He had even grown fond of playing with their little girl, Anna, who was fascinated by his impressive flourishes and tricks with his Halberd. "She's a blessing to this family", Wilhart thought, "she obeys her elders, helps with chores, and has the most adorable head of blonde hair like wheat in the fall harvests."
 
That was why when his time came to leave he felt disheartened to go, but thought that he could simply come back and visit them from time to time. He hadn't made it more than half a day's travel from the village when he turned his head and saw smoke coming from the direction of Halsgrof. He took to the sick feeling he had in his stomach and throttled the horse onward, returning to ensure nothing had befallen his patrons. The sun had just passed the edge of the horizon, the red haze of it's glow lighting up the sky. Or that's what Wilhart thought...climbing the hill overlooking the village he saw that embersand flame were the cause of the colors in the sky.
The whole village was beset by Orcish Raiders all of which wore some form of body paint, white in color. with his vantage he could see over all of the village as they were annihilated with no remorse. Women were taken from their homes or the street and hauled off, men cut down, what few guards in town had probably been slaughtered. Then Wilhart caught sight of a golden glow against the fire, a little head of blonde hair, and he rode his mount as if Hel were at his heels. As he approached he saw Anna run toward one of the marauders, a stick in hand, with a little warcry beginning to emulate Wilhart's techniques against the Orc. Would that she were 10 years older and had more practice...the Orc raised his axe to the little girl, and her form toppled so weakly to the ground.
 
Pure unrelenting anger followed in that moment, Wilhart flew past the Orc shouting his rage in a long drawn out bellow, shattering his skull with the sheer impact of his Halberd. His rage continued, into the thick of a group of 9 or so Orcs all turning around to engage him. He holstered his halberd under his arm and drew his longsword from his left hip. With his longsword he cleaved clear through two of them, and with the head of his pole-arm he lifted another off of his feet at the chest and carried him 5 yards past the mob. Wilhart's pass wasn't without consequence however as his mount's side had been cut.
With a wounded horse, and a now gathering group of 5 cutthroats staring him down Wilhart made a second pass. His mount's speed allowed his blade to sunder an Orc's rudimentary axe and bite into his face, as well as skewering another on his trusty Halberd. This was the breaking point though, as his horse was opened from front to tail by an axe sending beast and rider tumbling into the blood soaked dirt. Next to the body of Anna. Wilhart rose with renewed vigor with his pole-arm and repeated the spinning flourish that Anna had tried to do before him. He began slowly at first, as the Orcs spread out around him, spinning it at his sides then above his head and back to his side, then began to increase in speed whilst alternating. His axe-head becoming a glinting blur, keeping his enemies at bay lest they lose their limbs to it's edge.
 
One made the fatal mistake of moving toward him, and Wilhart lashed out, lobbing the Orc in half and sending his entrails soaring. Capitalizing on the moment another one attempted melee only to meet the same fate, the flat of the blade meeting the side of his head and taking it from his shoulders like a ball. Wilhart heard a whistle, then felt a great pain as a cold sensation dug through his chain mail into his shoulder, stopping the momentum he had gained. He turned and saw another Orc about 15' away  approaching with bow drawn, loosing another at his leg, barely missing. As fast as he could Wilhart grasped the arrow and broke the shaft off where it met his flesh, wincing as sparks of pain shot through him, but anger drove him onward.
The archer rose his voice, "Oi, 'uman! You stop resistin' now! When our Boss gets here you's a dead man even if we lose! So you-", Wilhart, the part of him that was a normal man, wasn't listening anymore. Wilhart the Prince was at the front of his mind. He shifted towards the archer, lunging his whole body outward, letting the haft of the pole-arm glide far as it would in his hand while allowing grip, and caught the Orc in the throat like the strike of a Black Adder. Reeling his weapon from the neck of the bleeding big mouth he turned and stared down the last 2 Orcs with dark hatred in his eyes. "I am Sovereign Prince to these lands!", one step forward, then another, the Orcs beginning to falter, "and for the decimation and pillaging of the village of Halsgrof I pass JUDGEMENT!" The Prince dove forward and he impaled the Orc who had slain his mount, "For CINNAMON!", lifting him off his feet and tossing him to the ground.
 
Sounds of thunder clapped over the skies, almost drowning out the scuffing of booted feet, and he turned expecting the Orc to leap upon his back, but instead it chose another option. To flee...to flee? TO FLEE!? No! This bastard still had his punishment to accept. Prince Wilhelm ran forward a few yards, still behind the Orc unable to gain on him due to his wounds, so he whipped his Halberd up and over his shoulder. As he took aim he shouted, "FOR ANNA!", and let it fly. Axe blade gleaming next to a shock of lightning. Fear in the eyes of the Orc as he turned and realized.
A sickening "SCHLUK!" as Orcish flesh was bore through by a grand arrow that had dug into the dirt, holding him aloft. Prince Wilhelm stood there for a moment to breathe. Falling to his knees he relaxed for moment as small drops of rain pattered off of his face and hands. With difficulty he rose and set to the task of burying those of the villagers he could find. He left his Longsword, the symbol of a knight, at the head of Anna's grave. After all, the oath of the knight was to uphold peace and protect the people, the weak. He had failed, and thus, would discard it. By bequeathing it to Anna, knighting her before her burial.
 
Anna the Lion, he dubbed her, and would make sure that the knights of his kingdom knew her bravery and listed her in the ranks of the honorable fallen, or they could duel him personally. With the last buried dead seen to, Wilhart retrieved his last piece of equipment from the Orc carcass and left his kingdom entirely.