Vanguard Warrior

    • Vanguard Warrior

      Vanguard Warrior

      Battle for Survival


      Near death, the bloodied warrior staggered across a battlefield of corpses. Among the dead lay several of his kin and the savages that had ambushed the scouting party. During the skirmish, he led a desperate charge when the brutes closed in too near for arrows. The onslaught that ensued drenched the snow vermilion.

      The massive creatures tore through their ranks, mercilessly ripping limbs from bodies and smashing bones into fragments. Some took sword and shield and met the colossal brutes in battle. Those who could held their bows steady, downing a few of the creatures as they charged recklessly into their lines. The warrior stood his ground, evading blows as chaos raged around him. The brutes soon breached further into their defense, engulfing the entire scouting party. Archers let their last arrows loose and frantically scavenged for more stuck in fallen savage hides and among the dead. Those who remained dawned splintered shields and notched broken arrows between bloodied fingertips in a desperate last stand. The bloodbath finally ended once the last savage had fallen. At that moment, perhaps the largest brute ever seen tore from the tree line and through their flank, ripping some into halves and hurling others aside.

      In the wake of carnage the warrior now stood alone as the massive giant looked down upon him. The enormous savage stood more than ten feet tall, arrows protruding from its bloodstained hide as bloodlust filled its veins. The warrior sturdied his feet and adjusted his grip over the sword’s hilt as the behemoth arrogantly strode towards him, sweeping up an axe from one of the fallen brutes. At that moment an arrow streaked across the battlefield, lodging itself beneath the creature’s shoulder. The enormous savage reared back letting out a dreadful cry, and at that moment the warrior lunged forward plunging his sword deeply into the behemoth’s neck. The brute lumbered forward defiantly, slowly exhaled and fell over into the snow.

      The warrior furrowed his brow, gazing across the battlefield searching for whom had saved him. The landscape was a blur of frost and tundra, fading as it rolled up into the mountains. Far off, he spotted his kinsman who had survived. The warrior trudged through heavy snow and past the dead, breathing in the cold air as it howled through the mountain peaks. His blood warmed, heart still racing from the fray of battle. White clouds of his breath rose and fell against the ashen sky as his stark figure trudged across the snow-covered plain. As the warrior approached his kinsman his eyes glanced over a gash penetrating his companion’s armor. He knelt down while removing his helm, and upon examining his kinsman’s breastplate saw he had suffered a grave wound. The warrior unfitted his cloak, wrapped his kinsman in the thick bear’s fur and offered what water he had.

      “The Gods must love you.” His kinsman spoke with certain difficulty. He coughed blood as he drank from the warrior’s flask, lying limply against the mountainside. “You've always been a remarkable warrior. No one takes down a giant with their sword.” The cold air burned his lungs with each breath as he paced those that remained and grinned vaguely, “…You shall live on as a great hero.”

      “You fought bravely.” The warrior leaned forward and embraced his kinsman, coddling his weakened body, “You shall live on in the legends of all the Great Halls.”

      For a moment his kinsman’s hollow eyes gleamed and pierced into those of the warrior’s, even as they began to flicker then fade from the realm of the living. “Vourn, you must survive the trek back.” His kinsman's head then fell forward as his soul joined the dead.

      This is a work in progress. Please excuse all the edits.
      There can be no glory without blood.
      There can be no victory without death.


      The post was edited 9 times, last by Achilles ().