» Mon Jun 11, 2012 4:33 am Mine is a little long, but that's what I'm hoping to see with your war stories. I also wasn't sure if this went in the fanfic section or here, so if it's in the wrong place, my apologies.
As I crouched among the panting, shivering, and nervous soldiers silently waiting in the woods for the imminent command that would send many of them to their graves. The only comfort they had was that of what awaited them in their afterlife. Whether it be Sovengarde, The Void, or any other dimension to house the slain. I remained, unnerved by what task was put ahead of me regardless of the danger I knew was to come when the gruff, uncomfortable voice of the Captain barked the order we were all anxiously waiting to receive. I fondled the amulet I had collected from the corpse of a dear friend of mine who died in my arms only weeks earlier. I was no virgin to combat. I had seen the eyes of death in many men. But I did not see guilt, heartbreak, depression, or acceptance. I only saw the luster of coin in my purse.
We waited for hours, evening had fell, night had rose and sunk below the frosted mountains in the distance. All we were left with was a bitter cold morning, lathered in a thick fog shrouding the cold stone jutting from the ground in the form of fortification for cowards ahead of us. Many soldiers were hunched against trees, getting a final moment's rest before we charged the coward rebels holed up in the fort. I stared at the sleeping soldiers for a while and began to drift myself. The moment the forest around me faded to black the roar of our captain boomed from behind me, I don't know what he said, as his thick Nordic accent had always caught me up, but clang of steel, sighs of fear and shouts of pride and rage; the movement of armour-clad bodies worried faces, paints and marks of war revealed that the hunt had begun.
I quickly stood and grabbed my bow, sprinting ahead to meet the other archers for the initial attack, to weaken the enemy on the battlements. 4 other men were already kneeling at the forest's edge, bows drawn with savage arrows notched. I knelt beside them and did the same. Again, behind us the Captain's voice echoed through the valley. We held our fire. The sound of the enemy's horns shook the birds from the trees, ominous caws spit from their beaks and the first arrow was fired.
The missile found it's mark in the chest of an archer, scanning the forest from his stone wall. One by one we let our arrows fly, each finding a mark in a rebel bastard. The forest shook violently with the thunder of men charging towards the fort. More arrows became airborn, but from the enemy, not us. Several soldiers fell but the charge continued. The rest of the scouts and I stood and followed, drawing swords and daggers. Several of our men had begun to scale the walls of the fort, while other hacked viciously at the barricades blocking all convenient entry. I followed in the climber's footsteps and begun to ascend the jagged wall. I was only a few feet from the top when a rebel saw me from below and began to swing his axe at my head. I quickly dodged, but almost lost my footing. Thinking fast I reached one hand into my boot and swiftly whipped the small knife I had stored in it up towards the attacker. The knife found itself in his face, slightly to the left of his nose bridge. With a bloody gurgle he plummeted backward and out of sight.
When I had finally breached the wall most of the battle was happening in the central courtyard, with archers from both sides picking off stragglers from the battlements and towers. I sprinted towards the first tower I saw, attempting to stay out of sight of the marksmen who occupied it. Pulling out my own bow, I hurriedly fired two shots, one planted in a marksman's arm and he yelled in pain and fell to his knees, blood seeping from the top of his arm. The other arrow, however struck the steel helmet of the other marksman and snapped in two. He looked over at me, dropped his bow and drew a large mace from his hip. He charged me, and I charged him, dagger in hand. We met before I knew it, and he froze chest against my shoulder, mace overhead, dagger in his gut. I threw him aside and took the mace. In that instant I heard a raged-induced, bellowing roar from behind me. Turning my head I saw a large, heavily armoured Nord swing an even larger battleaxe towards me. I dove out of the way and lunged at him. Striking him in the chest with a furious blow from my newly-acquired mace. He let out a painful wheeze and dropped the axe. I looked at his armour and noticed I had dented the plate on his chest deeply. The man was now trapped in a steel cage, most likely with crushed lungs. The dent made it unable for him to breathe, as he frantically clawed at the leather straps trying to remove it. I stood and watched. Both horrified and glorified by my own doing. I looked into the dark helmet holes, trying to search for some kind of person in there, but the person was no more as the holes fell backward and stiff with a muffled cough and gurgle. For the third time I heard the Captain's voice, and snapping my eyes towards the courtyard I saw he and our 3 remaining soldiers were horribly outnumbered. I rushed to them, pushing another marksman off his post and onto a broken shard of wood from the shattered barricades. His innards draqed off of it like some kind of gruesome flag. I cut through several men to reach the Captain, and together we slaughtered the rebels over the bodies of our comrades. Each kill leaving us bloodier than the last. Constantly switching weapons as ours would break often due to the tremendous force and vigor with which we swung them. The air sung and whistled with flying blood and steel. And at last, after hours of bloodshed the rebels laid slain. Only the Captain and I stood in a yard of corpses. Some recognizable as person, and some not. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, breathing in more coin.
