Warriors Repent

The warrior did look upon the bodies, a horde disassembled into piles of limbs, flesh and steel and all laying in the putrid mix of mud and blood that constructed the battle’s field of ill actioned chaos

Amongst the ruins of humanity that lay now in the bony hands of death the warrior saw eyes of figures splayed with red and brown, moving towards the failed ruins of the hordes camp, away from the green lands of where the war was meant to defend

“I hath spoiled my reputation, spilled my humanity upon the very blade that cleaved men in your name” a raised sword still dripping with the fluid of life “now you claim the enemy’s wreckage and do not thank me by reclaiming your homes, instead you cower in fright”

The crowd of huddled masses, startled eyes widened further with the reddened gleam of the blade raised to mark the victory “But you were the only afflicted, the one for whom you fought” boldly spoke a lone women draped in once white cloth “as much as we may reap the rewards of victory it is you who now we fear, the demon amongst our flock”

Unshackled from his armour, looking down upon the stained reflection staring back from dulled protection he once wore with pride “I see all you say in the way my eyes still burn bright with deathly lust” that blaze from the warriors glare still sharply lit, the release of his battle attire’s weight letting him more readily scan the carnage wrought for justice’s quest “but when I asked for help you faltered, told of the horde’s sins you jested action but failed to act”

The lone women daintily crossed the carnage, stepped around the limbs, steel and flesh without judgement or implied guilt on her face “And those of the horde were the sinners amongst us, only one of you remains now to carry their guilt” a hand on the warriors shoulder placed with care, another hand to help him release his grip on a weapon no longer wanted or wished “and that is yours to know as only you can, as our own part in this tale is ours alone to both use for judgement” a sigh heavy enough that the warrior felt her breathe “and so too for us to measure our own regret”

Into the scene rode an army ranger, the shine of his breastplate a stark contrast to anything once worn that the warrior had now discarded, and with a booming volume the ranger announced “We are here to save you” sickening pride in his gloriously superior tone “you can rest easy and let us clear up the mess”

The warrior retreated to his castle, the masses back to lives of light and life as official bodies arrived and helped them back to where they belonged but in bitter tones the warrior unrepentant remarked, for only his shadow, some faded conscious and the ghosts to hear “Where were the cavalry when I needed them most, my sins will now mark me because I was the worst choice for this quest” a heavy sigh to challenge that of the women “worse choice maybe, but the only one willing to stand the day and give this cause it’s deserved fight” some corrupted pride still capable of enjoying victory at a reputation’s price…

“It is easy to cast judgement on a loudly protesting man of ill mood and nature; when you refuse to see behind the rage and know what has triggered his lesser nature to rise in aid of righting wrongs, and damningly refuse to soothe or calm his wronged nature with a simple jesture of help”

Warriors Curse PT3

The warrior stares into the horde, eyes burning with hate and rage, he cries in unholy tones ‘I am but a shadow of myself, so why do you torment me so for you have taken all that makes me a man’ but the horde just moves forward in rhythmic chaos

As his bloody rapier cuts through the swarm he feels himself become another jaded ghost, as the light he seeks is clouded by the storm he knows will hit him soon, yet in faded form with no path to follow he slashes more viciously in revenge for his life once content, now lost

‘I may be a ghost, lost in the mist of endless night, but my blade is sharp and my mercy slain’ he calmly states, as the hope he keeps inside dies a little more with each second he is denied the dream of peace in a world of pain

Warriors Curse Pt2

As the warrior draws breath, in-between battles and conflict, he cries with unholy tones ‘Show yourself demons, and be named’ as fresh hordes besiege him

The demons only he knows await his fall, as he looks on with resentment at those soldiers who have won their war, with the spoils that have been awarded them

But somehow with only shreds of faith he fights on, his sword sustaining him ‘Bring forth your hordes and I shall fell them’ he cries as the battle continues, and what little hope he has left is pushed further down

Knowing only that life will one day run out of excuses to deliver what he knows he deserves, even if by then he is broken and bloody, able only to laugh for a moment before his end

Warriors Curse Pt1

As his enemies swarmed the warrior cries, ‘I am no hero, you are no saints, cross this line and my steel will be your end’ as with his stained blade he scores the ground

The enemy charges, many fall, lesser men run as the more skilled meet their match

The warrior falls, cold metal in his chest ‘Well done my friend, for you have caused my end’ he defiantly laughs, ‘now as the new champion you have to defend the line’

The new champion turns to see the horde, and rescores the line ‘I have taken my victory, at the inevitable cost of my life’, as he becomes the punch line to the joke that upon him life has played

One in a long line of men defeated by their own pride, for great it is to know victories prize, the price is to lose it to another at the cost of your life