A Battle To Be Sung.
#1 of Bursts of imagination.
This is something I couldn't get out of my head for quite a while today, Thought I'd let it out and show people a glimpse of what my mind can create at random when it cooperates. I don't know how good or bad I am really but I know that I want to be a great writer and author. How does one get that good? Same as anything else! The harder you work at something and the more effort you put in the better you get at it. If anyone out there ever wants to be good at something or do something amazing then put in the effort. If you actually work toward your goal then you will succeed. Don't give up cause you'll reach your goal eventually.
Fires crackling about the field, corpses strewn all over, swords and shields and all sorts of weapons scattered and stuck in dead bodies. One man stood as he pulled his falchion blade out of the fresh corpse of an opponent, blood spurting with the sound of metal on flesh as the blade came out from between the shoulder and neck. As the body dropped to the ground the man dropped to his knees, stabbing his blade down in front of himself for support, looking up and forward at a new group of enemies coming up over a small hill. He looked around the field and then backwards at the city him and his comrades had fought to protect, still untouched by battle. He grunted and stood before looking down at himself, clad in but simple grey cloth pants and nothing on his chest, worn sandals on his feet but also a small dagger imbedded in his gut. With his left hand he took the blade by the handle and pulled it out before throwing it to the side, righting his hold on his falchion and tightening his grip, taking a step forward and looking out to the approaching enemies before yelling out. "We will not fall!!! Not today!!! We will always fight, we will always resist your tyranny!!!" At this a horn sounded out and the ones ahead all let out war cries, the ground rumbling as they began to rush forward. This lone man who had just pulled a blade from himself steeled his nerves and ran at them as well. Blades clashed and men screamed out in pain, the lone warrior fighting with the fury of one thousand as, strike after strike was blocked and parried, dodged and countered. Soldier after soldier fell to his blade yet he kept fighting, the enemies faltering and stepping back, not wanting to approach this man any more. Even as this man once again fell to his knees, bringing himself to one instead of two, pulling another dagger from his torso, not one enemy made a move forward. This man again rose and yelled out. "We will not fail!!!" And as he yelled out distant war horns sounded, the gates of the city far back opening with a fresh army coming forth to fight. On the winds was carried the sound of war cries and the sound of hoofbeats, a fresh rumble shaking the ground as cavalry could be seen galloping forth. The man that had fought so ferociously dropped to both knees one more time, speaking in a soft voice, tired and low. "In this war, you have already lost." With those last words his head fell back as he sat upon his heels, finally dying with his gaze to the skies.