Jared lept over the smouldering debris of the battering ram, in his hand he carried a great lance that flew The Empire of Elva’s Red and white banner. The piece of emblazoned fabric caught the wind magnificently, lifting hearts of the downtrodden and weary infantry battalions that Jared was attached to. He stood atop the bodies and rubble lying at the base of the castle gate and drew his shining sword, winking at the sun he held it high as he pushed his warriors forward through the crushed portcullis.
“To me, Sons of Elva! For the Empire!” Jared pointed his blade toward the end of the gate, into the residential district of the castle, “Let no man live! Wipe the soulless kingdom known as the Silver Phoenix from history!” He turned and instinctively knew that his infantry was behind him, loyal to the end. Jared’s boots sucked at his feet with every step, the blood and gore of friend and foe creating a gigantic puddle at his ankles. Freeing himself from the clutching crimson pool he continued down the gateway, looking on as not twenty feet away the enemy prepared their civilian militia to defend against his assault.
As the sun struck his sword he paused to turn to his troops, roaring like a dragon he took his banner and pointed it at his hated enemy. The Red and white tide of Elva surged forth from beneath the stone gatehouse, clashing iron sounding the beginning of the fight. Jared slashed left and right, killing two militiamen in a twin spray of bright red blood. He parried the blade of a large swordsman and thrust forth with his banner lance, his assailant gurgled in dismay as the tip pierced his throat. He lightly loosened his grip on the lance, allowing his hand to move along it as he dashed to his enemy, kicking the weakly struggling body off of his honourable weapon.
Suddenly Jared was knocked down, and fighting to see his attacker amidst the blood in his eyes he saw the culprit; a skinny and decrepit man who’s athletic days were long past, puny civilian militia. He swiftly blocked the old mans mace as it came swinging down again towards his chest, and pushing himself off of his knees he came face to face with the old man. He deftly parried another amateur swing before disarming his opponent, as the old man looked on in dismay Jared planted his lance into the sopping ground and with his newly free hand lashed out to grasp the old man by the collar. He breathed the scent of blood and sweat into the old mans face and laughed at the cowards terror, “Does the Silver Phoenix not have troops more worthy than old men and babes?” He spat into the old mans face, grimacing as his victim flinched and began to weep in despair. “You follow these heretical fools, do you not?” Jared yelled, and when the blubbering old man said nothing intelligible he continued his tirade, “Fear not then, old man. For soon your weak and misguided masters shall follow you!” With this Jared thrust his sword into the mans belly, ripping the blade upwards before throwing the mans collar away and letting him slide off the sword to crumple to his knees; his guts falling out onto the already gore soaked earth.
Jared glanced around him, his infantrymen stood about him cheering in victory with the white on their tunics stained red like a butchers apron. Smiles on their faces as they looked on at the sun and their living brothers in arms, not caring to look at the twisted faces of agony that littered the ground. Jared pulled the banner lance from where he had placed it and raised it high, crying his victory to his unhearing masters as the rest of Elva’s forces poured through the gatehouse. He quickly gathered his men when he saw his captain riding in through the gates, seemingly floating above the shoulders of his army as his beautiful white horse strode through the swarm of soldiers.
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eckart tolle
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