The Unholy Legions of Anti-Sanctus Chaotica, a Warhammer Online Destruction Regiment, The rise of the ordinary soldier

(( First attempt at writing in awhile, my Biography of Greivus was not an attempt, more an abysmal abomination of my writing.))

Resolve, the heaviest of burdens and yet the most potent of strengths.

The day began to give way to the moon's dominance. The dull light cascading down from beyond the heavens, the light brought visibility to the days carnage. The very air was thick with death and pain, it was the scene of a horrific incursion by the Dark Elves in to the High Elf lands. It was here the battle was staged, this once peaceful field of green was now a sea of corpses. The moon did not discriminate against sides as the land seemed to weep under the glow for its dead.

Beyond sight and sound, into the realm of the unviewable the laments of pain and anguish poured from the souls rend from their bodies. The wind past over the field, howling out the laments of the land, the pain in which it has witnessed the fall of its denizens. Once brilliant whites, noble blues now painted with the blood of its bearer. The sides both equal in its death, this was a battle where the victor would not be able to be distinguished. The only winner of this battle was those able to walk away, while some would believe the true winners were those that died this day. As for those who survived the horror of this day would not be easily forgotten, only entrenching the hatred between the two even more.

The only other sounds aside from the howling wind were the pleas of those still clinging to life, however left to die with the rest. These were the souls most unfortunate, their friends and foes would be their crypt, they would die slowly in the night with no hope of aid. The last sound was that of pilferers and thieves, stripping away the last piece of identity of these bodies, taking their treasured holdings to sell for nearly nothing. How the dead were honored.

It was here, amidst the dead and dying that he stood. Pulling himself above the pain that wrecked through every fiber of his being. Standing with his shield and the bodies of his once friends to pry free of the field of death. He moved from this field, hearing every step of the way, screams and cries for attention and assistance from those dying, both High Elf and Dark Elf alike. Some crying for a quick release, having accepted death but seek a release from the pain. Unable to wield a sword in his current state he had to ignore the pleas of both his enemies and his friends alike.

May 2012

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