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Eukara Vox -> The Everyday Adventures of L&L (7/23/2010 17:16:11)
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The warrior wiped her blade with an oiled cloth, her eyes distant as she prepared for the onslaught ahead. The moment had come, though she was alone this time. The others... they had all fallen to the army that awaited her. Each one had tried and disappeared among the horde of enemies that stood, dense and stoic. It would not be easy.
The gods had watched as each hero fell, none moved by the plight of the mortals below. The scavengers watched too, from their hidden places far above the battle field. They licked their lips in greedy anticipation. The last warrior standing was about to take up the fight.
The warrior stood and pulled her blade, resting it on her forehead and said a prayer to the god that had protected her thus far. She was all there was between civilization and the oncoming horde. If she failed, all of earth would fall with her. Breathing deeply, inhaling the air around her, she opened her eyes and looked at the enemy. There they stood, in mock fear. But, they knew not who it was that would be in their midst today.
For the enemy cared not for those who challenged them. They always won. They took over the land, using up the places that people wanted for cropland to put down roots to build more war engines. Suffocating the people that had already established a home, the army slowly drove away the calm, sweet residences of bygone days. They built huge towering structures, whose faces turned with the daystar to absorb all the energy given by the holy light source. That energy, in turn, helped build their siege machines.
She stepped forward, blade held aloft and issued the challenge. The daystar's light glinted off the blade, momentarily blinding the scavengers. They cried out in anger, as their desire to watch the carnage was strong. The army stood, glaring at her as the wind blew softly through them. A few of them moved, adjusting their stance.
The warrior cried out and charged. Her weapon, now hungry for battle, roared as the army pushed forward. Alive, the blade sang out as the first of the army fell, blood washing over the silvery metal. She plowed through, creating a path of fallen enemies, their bodies broken and dying. The scavengers sang a song of jubilation, their hungry eyes watching as she left death in her wake.
Slow, she pushed through the the throng of soldiers, standing against. Though they fought back, it was soon apparent that they stood no chance against her might and determination. They all fell beneath her, the smaller more agile assassins, the stoic warriors of giant proportions and the well-planted mages that concealed the true nature of certain warriors who clung to her legs and arms in an effort to slow her progress.
The din of battle attracted more scavengers, their black eyes watching, their mouth salivating. Even as she fought, they tempted fate by dropping down on the messy field of fallen bodies. The ransacked the bodies, looking for choice baubles and flesh, to satiate their many hungers.
Slowly, the battlefield shrank. She swung her mighty blade left and right, cutting down ever soldier who threw himself at her. Amidst the fallen, she spotted one that had gone before her. His golden armor, still gleaming in the daystar, peeked out from under the debris of bodies. She pulled him away, wiping off his breastplate, so that even in sacrificial death, he would be remembered with reverence.
Sweat ran down her face as the daystar beat down on her. Fatigue began to set in as the sweat ran into her eyes, stinging them. She paused, wiping the moisture from her eyes, only to nearly miss the chance to cut down a sentinel. He stood before her, self-assured, determined to stop her progress.
She lashed out with her blade, but it didn't make a dent in the fighter's armor. He fell back slightly, as if a hard wind hit him, but nothing more. Determined, she gathered all her strength and threw her body into him, catching by surprise. He stumbled, arms flailing, as he attempted to use those around him to steady his stance. But, the hit was too much and he fell. The warrior, her own armor a mess, scrambled up and swung her blade. She severed his achilles' tendon, then eyes him with cold resolve.
It was as if the moment was everything she needed. Her blade found his neck, slicing easily through with some burst of otherworldy strength. She stood beside his bulk and laughed. Her skin slick in sweat, she looked at what was left of the once great army.
The few who remained quivered, but so scared, they could not move. She cut them down without a thought of mercy, for they showed none themselves.
Suddenly, it was quiet.
The ground was littered with the fallen. The warrior wiped her blade on a nearby body, then replaced it on her belt. She turned her back on the battlefield as the scavengers poured forth. They were no longer concerned with her. They were free to take whatever they could eat and find.
She paused.
The wind blew, cooling her skin, yet carried a song. It was a dirge... a dirge for the enemy. She acknowledged that the warriors may have had family and friends and stood in respect as they mourned. The song carried through the trees that lined the battlefield. After a few moments, she continued her journey. The scavenger's joined the song, to her dismay. But their song harmonized with the dirge.
For... where there is death, there also is life.
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