The Teutonian Army was making poor progress. Despite the assurances of their Leader, the one who would lead Teutonia into a world-spanning million-year empire, the efforts made to march through the Gallows Woods were not paying off. Why anyone in their right mind thought it was a good idea to march through that maddening place was anyone’s guess, but the extreme nationalism and jingoism that had long since taken over Teutonia was now at a point where even common sense could be ignored by the masses if the state told them so. If the Leader said that the color of the clear sky was green with pink polka-dots, they would believe it as if it were actually true.

It was this blind and feverish devotion to the state that had gotten them into the mess that they were in, as the massive columns of troops that had marched into the Gallows Woods were now separated and hopelessly lost. Not that they lacked hope, mind you, as they had the fanatical belief that this was all according to the great plan of the Leader. Lost? Who was lost? No, they were merely splitting up to attack from various angles, like their Leader had secretly wanted!

As the dark magic that permeated the Gallows Woods slowly inched its way into the hearts and minds of the men of Teutonia, shapes could be seen by some in the everlasting fog and gloom that swirled between the trees. As the day turned to nigh and back again, it became harder and harder to keep track of their location relative to everyone and everything else. While they were utterly incapable of admitting it, they all were well and truly trapped. Even IF they somehow managed to reunite, they were now deep within the labyrinthine maze of desiccated trees and were being accosted more and more frequently by the rouge undead and numerous other nasty things that made their homes there.

On the tenth night of their doomed march into the accursed forest they now occupied, the distorted sounds of screaming and wailing could be heard floating through the fog like a banshee’s wail. Throughout the Gallows Woods, the forces of Kain were doing their bloody work and the residual echoes of those in pain and on death’s door slowly formed a haunting choir that would ebb and flow through the night with varying levels of intensity and frequency.

The Teutonian forces had ignored rule number one of fighting undead on the Planet of Mortis; Do not fight the undead in the Gallows Woods.

…

“It was a simple operation, or at least it was supposed to be. After all, our Leader was never wrong and had never led us astray before, how could this campaign end any differently from the border skirmishes with the Ruskian Untermensch? We were the truest and purest version of humanity, the true Ubermensch of the world, so how could any being give us a defeat? If we had only paid heed to the old stories and simply cut down every tree in the way to the center of the Gallows Woods, we wouldn’t be in this situation. But ultimately, the fault is not our own, and certainly not the fault of our Leader.

It was the fault of these damn Untoten, not ours! Maybe the other members of the feeble Confederacy were partly to blame, they could not be trusted after all. They were only there for us to use until we no longer needed them, because Teutonia was the axis the world spun around and we didn’t really need their ‘help’. But right now, we could use them as the meat-shields they were meant to be, even if only to help grind the Untoten to dust beneath the inadequacy of the Untermensch armies that they could field.

I and my fellow soldiers are now on a forced march through the damnable Gallows Woods, trying to meet up with those we have misplaced. Occasionally we come across the remains of one poor unit or another that was destroyed by the Untoten or the other fault monsters in the forest, likely stabbed in the back by the Untoten like the cowardly devils that they are. We were told that at the center of the Woods was a ruined city that was filled with the ill-gotten gains of the greedy and deceptive Abominable King and his Untermensch subordinates long ago; these were to be our rightful prize for doing what the other inferior humans could not.

If only we knew the way to the center, and if only we had paid heed to the stories and simply lumberjacked our way to the city. Still, I have high hopes for our safe return, and I look forward to seeing you again, my dearest Heidi. Our little Heinrich will be pleased to see the treasures I will eb sure to bring home for us. Have faith that I will return shortly and bring tales of our glorious triumph over the forces of the various Untermensch that have made their home in this wicked place! I must stop writing, as the sounds and stench of the Untoten are close but have no fear for I will return to you in a short while. Lovingly yours, Hans”

The widow who sat in her home read this letter for the seventeenth time that day. It had been over a month since the forces of Teutonia had vanished into the forest and lost all contact with the outside world. Only recently had these letters mysteriously arrived on the doorsteps of wives and mothers throughout Teutonia. Each was accompanied by a box, wrapped with a neat little bow and in each box was the skeletal head of the man who had been sent out to die a pointless death in the Gallows Woods.

Heidi could not hold back the tears when she read the letter the first time, or the second or the third. Over time she slowly tried to come to terms with the fact that her beloved Hans had died in some far-off backwater, and al the enemy did was send his skull. Did the Untermensch have not the slightest bit of honor? She grappled with the grief she experienced for what felt like an eternity and was unsure of how to tell their six-year-old son that his father was never coming home, at least not as a living being. As she and many others grappled with their loss, the one who sent them to die a pointless death enjoyed another bottle of the finest Lager and sat in a luxurious suite nibbling on the finest salad his nation could afford.

He was the distant descendant of a Hero of yore and had the position and privilege he felt he rightfully deserved thanks to his lineage. He and his wife could both trace their lineage back to a single man who had come to this world to save it from the impure and undesirable. They were proud that they would be able to help focus the blood of the Hero into a new child, although as of yet there was no child on the way. The man who ‘bore the weight of the noble and pure Teutonian Blood on his shoulders’ could not be bothered to even think of blaming himself for his force’s failure, after all as the Perfect Leader he was beyond reprisal and beyond failure. His forces were likely betrayed from within by Untermensch from the other nations in the Confederacy that sought to undermine the inherent superiority and perfection of his nation.

He had little care for the cogs in the machine, little care for the grieving families of the men that he had sent to die in a pointless assault. This setback could be ignored. After all, what were the lives of a few thousand men to the glory of Teutonia? He would send a miniscule payment to the bereaved and make a grand speech about how they were betrayed by their fellow members in the Confederacy and that they died bravely without showing even the slightest hint of cowardice. Even if he lost a hundred thousand men, he would still be able to call upon the women, children and elderly to fight in his name, so the loss that was suffered was not worth losing sleep over.

Next time he would send an even larger force. Surely, THEY would be able to do their job!

…

Kain watched the slow buildup of an ever-increasing number of soldiers outside the Gallows Woods through the eyes of his Fel Bats. Through their potent hearing their plans (or perhaps lack thereof) were heard loud and clear.

“What kind of idiot is in control of these people? Are they seriously going to try the same thing again? Does their Leader not understand the dangers of the Gallows Woods; does he not understand tactics and strategy? Well, I guess I should thank them for making my job of defending my territory that much easier…”