Chapter 20: End of fall, winter’s Start

A soldier held onto his sword.

The various greenskin’s wielding their axes came for him.

Injured, like wrought iron.

This soldier has no name.

Like many who went to the front lines.

Most of them merely become soldiers.

This soldier has no name.

He has no name.

All he could think when seeing the pile of orcs plowing the soldiers was to fight.

Under his helmet, his eyes lit up.

Strength came into his hands as he parries a strike and slit an Orc’s throat. Blood spurted on his wrought armor as he proceeds to step on his comrade’s corpses.

The wisp of black smoke coming from the bodies of the dead, the smog from all the burning and the chaos made the whole place this soldier is standing seems hell. Yet, like any soldier like him, they fought without anything other than their swords.

Afar they could feel a knight’s aura clashing with a high warrior of the demis. The Humans have their knights while the Demihumans have their High Warriors.

In the battlefield when the two clashes everything burns.

The soldier crawled when the shockwave from their clashes.

He went and stood up, only to see an Orc bearing down his axe. He blocked the axe, his bones rattled, he felt weak on his knees but still resisted to bend.

He tackled with his shoulder.

He thrust his sword right at the abdomen of the Orc.

The Greenskin Orc rolled its eyes.

The soldier pulled his sword out only to see a rock coming down his way.

The soldier rolled away from the rock.

He saw three more orcs coming at him.

Hear me Roar, oh heavens! The soldier thought.

He bears his sword and slashed it down upon one of the Orc.

He rolled away from an Orc’s strike.

He then slashed the knees of the Orc and standing up, he pulled his blade back and uses it to decapitate the Orc in front of him.

Swoosh, Swoosh, two arrows hit his wrought armor.

Scream came out of the soldier’s mouth,

Boom, two clashes of shockwaves made the soldier stumble.

Oh, the tired soldier stood up, his face sweating with blood, his eyes hazy within a fog of despair. Stand up, the Soldier thought to himself. Bearing his sword once again he scanned for any comrades he could see. Dead, and dead, two soldiers getting ripped apart by a high Orc with a huge two protruding fangs smiled at the Soldier. His eyes narrowed, his wrist tightened as he rushes at the High Orc.

Shout and hear me roar!

The Soldier chanted his own mantra of courage.

The High Orc responded with a bellow.

Clang, clang, and clang, the backdrop behind the soldier as he rushes made time slow down. Every step made the dirt fly above, the corpses, and the blood he stepped on rippled as he slashes his sword at the High Orc.

The High Orc gnashes, his smile, unwavering strength bearing down upon the weak human before him. But the human in front of him was a soldier, and as a nameless soldier with nothing to lose, he rolled, and then use another sword to throat it at the High Orc. The High Orc deflected the sword, but that was merely a distraction, the sword of the Soldier stabbed upon the High Orc. The Orc bled, it kneeled and before it can even make a sound, the Soldier gutted it.

The Soldier gasped for breath, saliva spilling out of his mouth, his grungy face stained with dirt and blood made him look pathetic, yet the Soldier never stopped, he bellowed and went further beyond the hill of corpses. Beyond the hill of corpses, reveals the thousands of greenskin barbarians coming at them with a roar, and thunder of their foot. The Soldier went pale, despair flooded his heart yet a single fire, the torch on his body lit a light.

The Light inside him was broken but he still works.

Ah, I could never see those pastures of green, the Soldier thought in despair. May the God of light shield me, oh here I go hordes of green, and may your blood and your skin give me a death in honor of my dead comrades. The Soldier mumbled as he rises up and heads to the despair in front of him.

Tap, tap, the soldier walk on the slope while occasion feeling the entrails covering his foot. He removes his helmet, and armor, his sword only with him, he made a maddening smile. This smile of a madman facing death, in this time he was the hero of this story, a story of his own before death.

Another person, saw him standing up. With his wounds lashed upon, death was the only thing he could do. Another one saw another person, the person saw the others, making rows fall, like dominoes falling, and the Soldier leads the wrought iron soldiers to the green horde.

When can they be brave other than this?

A man can only be brave as they face death.

Fear death, they did not; they embraced it with maddened smiles.

Some fled, like chickens, while those who could not let go of their honor, pride and manliness stared down death with foolish smiles.

Death you say? They might as well fuck him in the bum.

The soldier didn’t notice the lads wanting to fuck death in the bum.

None of them could recognize each other.

Yet, they are here, fighting for themselves, trying to give their reliefs at the hands or at the ass of death.

It’s either their abandon braveness or defy death.

What is the most exciting of them all?

They ask themselves that and chose without thinking.

I raise my sword, and fight for myself, The Soldier thought. The others thought the same, and as they thought that, the bellows of fire, the roaring lion of rage came upon their hearts, charge! Brave warriors of wrought iron! May death take them in their charge!

And so Fall Ends with hundred of soldiers dead on the ground.

The Wight King of Dread has led the green skins to Victory.

The First line has been broken.

Winter has arrive on the continent of old.