Dealing With Victory

[Guzr 2050]

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|DEALING WITH VICTORY|

Edwin’s Journey

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The Orenian Forces on the march.

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Who knew the air could grow this cold. The very wind chilled the bone of the Orenian formation as they marched upon the Iron Accord. Amongst the grizzled soldiers and levymen, amongst the generals and lieutenants marched one who had not near their experience. Edwin, a 14 year old boy, with his kettlehelm atop his noggin and his trusty sword in hand, marched forth beside his father. Even under his protective wing, the boy could not help but feel death itself beneath his skin, slithering across his spine downwards as if luring him to Hell in a freezing chill. 

 

Nevertheless, Edwin marched on; no doubt spurred on by the cadence of war drums and flutes, aswell as the heavenly voice of a superior officer calling “LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT, RIGHT.”  Suddenly, the formation halted. Edwin could barely see over the head of the man infront of him; though it did not take a genius to know what was happening. All was silent, except for the hushed prayer of the occasional soldier before it blasted loudly:

 

“COMPANY, FORWARDS.”

Their march started slow, the cadence of the drums rhythmically speeding up over time to match their increased tempo. Before Edwin knew it, he was in a jog, then a sprint. A few lines to his front Edwin could hear the clashing of blades and the cries of men. A splatter of blood painted the air above the Orenian crowd as a cheer lofted up from the front line. Edwin’s heartrate increased, and it did not take long for an arrow to twang! Off his kettlehelm, causing the boy to recoil in shock. He had no chance to recover himself, however.

 

 

“NOW, MEN, NOW. CHASE THE BARBARIANS DOWN THE HILL, WE’VE ROUTED THEM!” 

Routed? What did he mean? Edwin watched as all formation broke around him, men flourishing their blades and blunts as they chased down the Norlanders. Edwin too, charged forth, striking the boomsteel blade against the ground beneath him to ignite it onto flame. The ranks of Norlander and Imperial merged, forming a mashed free for all. Alas, a trick was afoot. Edwin saw as the Norlanders suddenly turned, smashing with a wrothful fury against Imperial lines. Then, he saw only black.

 

When the boy’s vision had returned, infront of him stood a goliath Dark Elf, brandishing a weapon far heavier than Edwin’s. Diome Indoren was not a greenhorn like Edwin, no, more the likes of a seasoned veteran who had seen his fair share of war. Edwin looked to his breastplate, which now had been painted red in blood and dent. The boy knew not who’s blood it was, nor did it matter, as he stepped forth and delivered a strike or two to Diome’s guard! 

 

Diome blocked such excellently, laughing off the boy’s flaming blade and sending him to the floor with his boot. That warhammer of his lofted up into the air like a soaring eagle, preparing to strike down upon Edwin’s skull and turn such into splatter of red. Then, the angels came.

 

 

The very earth shook, a mighty dust cloud grew like protective wings over His Imperial Majesty’s troop as a trumpet sounded triumphantly. The sound of hooves bombarded the ears of those about as the Shield of Providence, Antonius, rode in with the 3rd brigade to his back. Edwin’s father, Tobias, bravely screened forth, pushing the Dark Elven veteran back into the crowd with a passing yell to Edwin.

“Stand, my son! On your feet, for the Emperor! For yourself!”

 

Edwin did not disobey. The boy took to his stand, his feet carrying him deeper into the chaos; swinging wildly. Screams, slashes; sprays of blood and furies of fire surrounded his vision; and his heartbeat thumped loudly with fear within his throat. . .

 

***

 

 

Now all was quiet. The crows circled above Edwin as the boy sat, his extinguished boomsteel blade cradled in his arms as he hugged it, tears strolling down his face. A chorus of pained groans complimented by the high notes of a blade finishing a soldier off was sung by the battlefield’s remnants. Edwin’s glossy eyes looked about, as he saw a lone knight venture across the field, delivering mercy to those unlucky enough to still live. 

 

Flashes of the previous days mined their way into Edwin’s conscience; the pained squeal and sizzle of a man as Edwin dug his flaming blade into his shoulder; the gargling of blood as an ISA corporal clawed at his throat, which had become the home of a crossbow bolt.

 

The boy got to his feet, limping to the tents in the distance; the Orenian camp. He had been lost on the field for two days, wading between a maze of corpse and carrion. At last, the malnourished teenager’s eyes were set on friendly company. A mantra was repeated to himself repeatedly through his sniffle and snob.

 

“The Empire has won. . . Oren Aut Mortem. . . The Empire has won”

 

[Sham404 518]

"Pride comes before the fall." Edric announces, as he observes the thousands of Anti-Orenian soldiers prepare for the next battle.

[Taketheshot 3834]

14 minutes ago, Sham404 said:

"Pride comes before the fall." Edric announces, as he observes the thousands of Anti-Orenian soldiers prepare for the next battle.

Joseph d'Azor raises his brow as Edric observes the thousands of Anti-Orenian soldiers preparing for the next battle by fleeing the field in hurried manner. 

"The rats run for their lives, expected. in truth."

[helldiving 5793]

"Remarkable, simply put." stated a figure as his visage shifts whilst reading the excerpt. Lips curl into a formidable grin as he concludes.

[RaindropsKeepFalling 886]

A traumatized statesman turned soldier appeared bittersweet, twiddling his thumbs, all bandaged up. His gaze rose to the bright, blinding afternoon, yearning for a victory and an end to this bloody war.

[OP bandamont 901]

Ziegfrid gave out a shrug" Edwin just not used to killing yet , got my first one when I was thirteen"

[sergisala 3451]

As he charged towards the enemies of the Holy Orenian Empire, Sir Charles Galbraith would exclaim the following words in the field of battle "Oren Aut Mortem!"

 

After a short battle, the Imperial forces arose victorious from the skirmish in another major victory for the Empire of the Exalted Godfrey.

 

"The Lord saw Godfrey’s good work, and the forces of evil divided themselves. Plague swept the lands of iniquity, and walls crumbled before Godfrey’s armies." (Gospel 6:38-39)