An obscene mixture of smoke and fog smothered the shattered remnants of what used to be a village. The once verdant fields that surrounded the village are now barren, save for the mud filled craters that riddle the surroundings. Years of bitter fighting have ravaged the rolling hills, reshaping the landscape. What used to be a quiet, out of the way village, was now pock marked with shell craters, trenches, and the grotesque stench of decaying corpses mixing with toxic vapors.

  The river that had once provided to this place was now broken and the water that had given life to the people here flooded the land. Mixing in with the churned earth, the water formed thick devouring mud which swallowed people and animals alike.

  Now war weary souls were busy trying to recover from the previous attack. Bodies that could be retrieved were grabbed, anything to prevent more decay from spreading. This place was supposed to have been safe, it was supposed to be the reprieve from the front lines, where men, elves, dwarves and others were fighting and dying.

  Recovering from the attack was a single knight, his features were stained by dirt and grime. His once radiant blond hair was ash and mud stained. His once bright blue eyes, were now clouded with gray. His breastplate once bright and the symbol of a setting sun over the sea, now dull and scarred.

  The knight pulled himself up from the crater his young lieutenant had pushed him into. His body ached, but, he was otherwise uninjured. He clawed at the muddy earth that resisted his attempts to leave its grasp. However with a bit of magic fueling his body he was able to pull himself out of the crater.

  Then he saw the corpse, the young boy… no, the young man. He had been eager, like they always were. Ready to fight for Krantz, ready to give everything… he got his wish. The once sharp handsome features were now contorted in an expression of shock and anguish. The young man’s still bright almost golden hair, and hazel eyes were now stained with his blood. The left side of his body, arm, leg and chest was gone. His organs spilling out and mixing with the blood and mud on the ground.

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  The knight knelt down and closed the young man’s eyes. He used to cry at this sight, but he long got used to seeing young men, the youth of his nation dying in front of him. He long got used to surviving when other more suitable men should have. Looking around similar stories were playing around him. A female knight her expression similar to his own, pulled the top half of a young supply officer from the rubble of the barracks.

  An armor boy sat staring at his own dismembered arm, one of the remaining aged war priests was giving soft prayers with a shaking hand. The divine light that was emanating from his body offering no comfort as he healed those he could.

  As the knight made to get up as his heightened senses alerted him to a sound. A sound that shook every single person in these ruins. A high whistle that was screeching towards them, time seemed to slow as the knight’s senses processed the information. He abandoned all other thoughts and followed the overriding instinct that years on the battlefield had ingrained into him.

  SURVIVE!

  He immediately dove back into the crater that had saved him at the cost of the lieutenant. As soon as he did so, the whistle that induced so much fear arrived. The crack of thunder that followed drowned out all other noise. More earth, mud, and blood was thrown into the sky as the shell detonated.

  It was a single shell, but there was always more, on que the screeching of dozens of more shells came from the east. Always from the east, from the enemy, from the Romans… As the shells landed, drowning out the world in their wrath, the knight huddled to himself. His ring shining as he raised his small barrier, it wouldn’t stop a direct hit, but it offered some extra protection. The knight closed his eyes, and prayed.

  Oh lord Solar, warm our souls with your light

  Oh lord Solar, strengthen our souls with your radiance

  Oh lord Solar, shield our souls with your divinity

  He continued this small prayer even as one, of the hundreds of shells that would land in this small spit of land, hurtled towards his ditch.

  Oh lord Solar, save us, your faithful servants!