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The sound of metal clanging, mixes with the sound of dying screams. The smell of death and brimstone fill the air with putrid intensity. Screams of man and beast split the air as both fall to blade and spell.
"Get the bastard Allen!" The scream pierces the battlefield.
"Quit watching me, and kill one yourself!" He retorts between dodging blows and swinging his blade.
The once peaceful village is charred by infernal magics and covered with the corpses of hellish beings and men alike. Any signs of life have all but receded from this place that has long been home to beasts spawned forth from the abyss..
The battle rages on for some time, finally ending in retreat as few beasts remain. The formations make haste to a makeshift camp at the base of a cliff some distance off. Men carry the many many wounded to place with the rest of them, as priests watch over both these new and the many previously injured. Walking through the area Allen sees men he has fought beside more then once, dead and dying of magical burns and brutal wounds inflicted by steel, claw, and spell.
"More for us Allen, dont let that shit get to you." The man walking beside him keeps his eyes off the bodies and walks a bit faster.
"Yeah don't worry about me. I aint going to turn out like that." He responds in a quiet grim voice.
The two men make for a fire, the men around this fire much rougher looking, and meaner then the men crowding the tents farther down. Armored to the teeth they pass containers of hard liquor about and re-live the horrors of battle with grim humor, and little respect for their numbers lost.
"Look boys, the runt made it out alive! He's keepin his share after all!" The man laughs throwing a wineskin at Allen
"No thanks to you, you old bastard. I saw you running off at the first sight of blood, forget your sword?" Allen retorts hotly, though after a moment starts laughing. He is quickly joined by the man and the rest around the fire.
"Glad to see this shit hasn't got ye down yet. With all those poor bastards dead this is looking to come out the best pay yet."
"Just proving you wrong old timer, I was always going to be better than you." He responds taking a swig out of the wineskin.
"Well since your so chipper, boy, you get first post." The bearded man chuckles
Night turns to dawn and the men begin preparing for more battles, only short shifts of sleep had by each. Ready, they march forth grimly with the more militant formations at each side. They let the mercenaries keep the deadliest position at the front. Marching on they are ambushed, Demons and all manner of hellish beasts spew forth onto the battlefield, coming from behind boulders and the ruins of what was once a small village.
The battle rages on for what seems like days for the men, mixing victory with bloody defeat as they push forward and retreat along the bloody ground beneath their feet. Silence befalls the battle field as the hellish beasts they are fighting are all dead or retreating, Screams of triumph fill the air.
"See, boy!? This place's been infested with these damned things for years.. Now a proper force's left 'em runnin' tails between their legs." He laughs and raises his blade in triumph
As suddenly as the battle stopped a deafening noise, an angry howl of something terrible, splits the air. The entire battlefield freezes in horror as the ground splits and shakes violently, producing a Demon standing twice the height of the tallest human. The beast looks around at all the men and releases what could only have been a laugh before charging.
Even the most seasoned warrior instantly turns to flee from the massive beast, only those too scared to move standing their ground as the beast, now flanked by hellish beasts far worse then anything they had fought, advances. Their retreat is far too slow, and the Demons far to quick as the sounds of the first men being crushed and killed fills the air.
Allen looked forward in horror as the beasts spewed from the charred earth, looking at the bearded man cutting his celebration short to call retreat, but too late. The bearded man took only one step before being caught in the back by a spell, splattering blood and hunks of his armor and body across the rest of the men.
Allen ran his fastest seeing in his peripheral everyone being cut down by the Demons and their infernal powers. His fear driving him forward until something hits him, sending him flying like he was kicked by an angry giant into the side of a ruined building....
Pain... How can death hurt like this...?
He stirs only slightly, quickly stopping as the pain nearly sends him back to the blackness he was now trying to shake off.. Managing to open his eyes he can only see blood and corpses, complete silence.. He lays for hours, trying to decide whether or not this is death, passing in and out of consciousness. He hears and sees no signs of any kind of life, in his brief moments of consciousness. All hope gone he waits for death to claim him.
Drip, drip, splat, the sound of sprinkling water turns to torrents of rain in a matter of seconds...
He awakes to the feeling of the rain, straining to lift his head. He manages to work his way from his mangled armor and to his feet, clenching his blade with all the strength he has. Looking around he sighs and grabs his pouch of gold, and those of the corpses laying about him and limps towards where their makeshift camp was, only to find it a bloodied ruin. Finding a tent, still standing, he bandages to the best of his ability before giving into the darkness once again...
"Get the bastard Allen!" The scream pierces the battlefield.
"Quit watching me, and kill one yourself!" He retorts between dodging blows and swinging his blade.
The once peaceful village is charred by infernal magics and covered with the corpses of hellish beings and men alike. Any signs of life have all but receded from this place that has long been home to beasts spawned forth from the abyss..
The battle rages on for some time, finally ending in retreat as few beasts remain. The formations make haste to a makeshift camp at the base of a cliff some distance off. Men carry the many many wounded to place with the rest of them, as priests watch over both these new and the many previously injured. Walking through the area Allen sees men he has fought beside more then once, dead and dying of magical burns and brutal wounds inflicted by steel, claw, and spell.
"More for us Allen, dont let that shit get to you." The man walking beside him keeps his eyes off the bodies and walks a bit faster.
"Yeah don't worry about me. I aint going to turn out like that." He responds in a quiet grim voice.
The two men make for a fire, the men around this fire much rougher looking, and meaner then the men crowding the tents farther down. Armored to the teeth they pass containers of hard liquor about and re-live the horrors of battle with grim humor, and little respect for their numbers lost.
"Look boys, the runt made it out alive! He's keepin his share after all!" The man laughs throwing a wineskin at Allen
"No thanks to you, you old bastard. I saw you running off at the first sight of blood, forget your sword?" Allen retorts hotly, though after a moment starts laughing. He is quickly joined by the man and the rest around the fire.
"Glad to see this shit hasn't got ye down yet. With all those poor bastards dead this is looking to come out the best pay yet."
"Just proving you wrong old timer, I was always going to be better than you." He responds taking a swig out of the wineskin.
"Well since your so chipper, boy, you get first post." The bearded man chuckles
Night turns to dawn and the men begin preparing for more battles, only short shifts of sleep had by each. Ready, they march forth grimly with the more militant formations at each side. They let the mercenaries keep the deadliest position at the front. Marching on they are ambushed, Demons and all manner of hellish beasts spew forth onto the battlefield, coming from behind boulders and the ruins of what was once a small village.
The battle rages on for what seems like days for the men, mixing victory with bloody defeat as they push forward and retreat along the bloody ground beneath their feet. Silence befalls the battle field as the hellish beasts they are fighting are all dead or retreating, Screams of triumph fill the air.
"See, boy!? This place's been infested with these damned things for years.. Now a proper force's left 'em runnin' tails between their legs." He laughs and raises his blade in triumph
As suddenly as the battle stopped a deafening noise, an angry howl of something terrible, splits the air. The entire battlefield freezes in horror as the ground splits and shakes violently, producing a Demon standing twice the height of the tallest human. The beast looks around at all the men and releases what could only have been a laugh before charging.
Even the most seasoned warrior instantly turns to flee from the massive beast, only those too scared to move standing their ground as the beast, now flanked by hellish beasts far worse then anything they had fought, advances. Their retreat is far too slow, and the Demons far to quick as the sounds of the first men being crushed and killed fills the air.
Allen looked forward in horror as the beasts spewed from the charred earth, looking at the bearded man cutting his celebration short to call retreat, but too late. The bearded man took only one step before being caught in the back by a spell, splattering blood and hunks of his armor and body across the rest of the men.
Allen ran his fastest seeing in his peripheral everyone being cut down by the Demons and their infernal powers. His fear driving him forward until something hits him, sending him flying like he was kicked by an angry giant into the side of a ruined building....
Pain... How can death hurt like this...?
He stirs only slightly, quickly stopping as the pain nearly sends him back to the blackness he was now trying to shake off.. Managing to open his eyes he can only see blood and corpses, complete silence.. He lays for hours, trying to decide whether or not this is death, passing in and out of consciousness. He hears and sees no signs of any kind of life, in his brief moments of consciousness. All hope gone he waits for death to claim him.
Drip, drip, splat, the sound of sprinkling water turns to torrents of rain in a matter of seconds...
He awakes to the feeling of the rain, straining to lift his head. He manages to work his way from his mangled armor and to his feet, clenching his blade with all the strength he has. Looking around he sighs and grabs his pouch of gold, and those of the corpses laying about him and limps towards where their makeshift camp was, only to find it a bloodied ruin. Finding a tent, still standing, he bandages to the best of his ability before giving into the darkness once again...
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