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Get of W'soran

CN's Lord of Masks
True Blood
Apr 23, 2008
Behind the Throne
Dieter bled, he was exhausted, his armour was in shreds and his shield lay shattered. At least he still had his arming sword.

He leant against the army's banner, holding onto the thing was the only reason he still was upright. He hadn't dropped it for the whole day that they had been hiding here.

”Are we going to die?” a young voice whispered.

Dieter looked down at the boy with a mixture of disgust and pity. The scared young man couldn't have been more than 18 years old, judging by his cavalry sword and light armour he was an outrider or something, a young noble given an easy job in the army.

Dieter himself was a sergeant of the Stirlander's Honourable Blades, a swordsmen regiment and had been for over twenty years. Sadly he was also the last soldier alive of the Stirlander's Honourable Blades.

”Not if you keep your voice down you idiot!” hissed an annoyed looking halberdier.

The nobleman, who days before would have been outraged at a peasant for speaking to him like that, simply nodded and sat down quietly.
Dieter looked around at the others, a grizzled Greatswordsman of around the same age as Dieter himself, two spearmen of around their mid-twenties and an archer no older than the noble but probably several times more useful.
All of them where wounded to different degrees but Dieter was just to tired to care.

Dieter slid down the banner to his knees, keeping one hand on the standard's pole and the other against his ribs where he had been caught by a beastman's axe.
Dieter opened his mouth to tell the young boy everything would be alright but he blacked out.


”I'll gut you, you little bastard!”

Dieter opened his eyes to see the two spearmen standing over the young outrider. Dieter groaned as he pulled himself to his feet.

”What's...going on.” he asked huskily.

One of the Spearmen, Kurt, if Dieter recalled properly, pointed at the boy.

”He fell asleep whilst he was suppose to be on watch! If Dirk hadn't of woken up then we might all have been jumped by those beastmen bastards! We'd never have stood a chance, hell our entire army didn't stand much of a chance did it?”

The boy shrunk into himself.

”I'm sorry...” he whispered ”I'm just...so tired and hungry.”

Dieter slumped down to the ground again as his exhaustion overcame him.

”We're all tired and hungry! You stupid lit...”

Dieter blacked out again.


When Dieter woke up again it was completely dark.

The Greatsword Stefan was leaning over him holding a flash of water.

”Drink.” he commanded.

Dieter sipped at the water.

”Thanks.” he muttered as he finished ”Is everything alright?”

Stefan shook his head.

”Not even nearly.” he sighed and gestured behind him to the slumped over form of the halberdier.

”He bled out.” Stefan explained ”The rest of us have superficial wounds...except for you. I've changed the bindings over your ribs while you slept...it's pretty bad Sergeant.”

Dieter smiled.

”I feel fine.” he said before breaking into hackling coughs.

Stefan chuckled softly ”You're a great soldier Dieter but you're an awful liar.”

Dieter chuckled and immediately regretted it as pain lanced up his side.

”Do you think anyone else in the army survived?” he asked softly.

The Greatsword shrugged.

”I know the Count survived. He got out with a squadron of knights, I told the Grandmaster to get him out.”

Dieter frowned ”You give orders to a Grandmaster?”

Stefan give a rueful smile ”I'm the Counts Champion, Stefan Talhaf.”

Dieter stared in shock as Stefan chuckled and stoof up.

”Get some sleep.” he said as he turned and strode off. ”Oh and keep up the good work standard-bearer.”
Dieter smirked and leant his head against the standard as he drifted back of to sleep.


”Get up! Up!”

Dieter's eyes snapped open as he heard Stefan shouting.

He pulled himself to his feet and drew his sword from it's sheath.

Using the standard as a crutch he limped over to the others.

”What's going on?” he asked Kurt.

The spearman turned to him wide-eyed with fear.

”Our young archer friend saw them coming, something's got them spooked, we're too tired to run...probably too tired to fight but we'll at least try.”

Stefan strode up with his Zweihander in hand, a massive grin on his face.

”Time for some payback men!” he shouted ”Spearmen up front with me, Dieter and the von behind!” he commanded gesturing at the noble “Arno, just shoot them!”

The all too familiar sound of hoof crashing into the ground could be heard as the beastmen came into the clearing. Luckily, if it could be called luck, they where only the ungors.

”They're runts! Lay into them!” Dieter shouted.

Arrows slashed into the mutants and as they reached the men, Kurt and the other spear wielder, who Dieter only now realised where obviously twins, lunged at the beasts.

The outrider stood with his curved cavalry blade looking terrified.

”Stick close to me boy.” Dieter rasped.

Within moments it had descended into a chaotic melee.

Dieter ducked and stumbled back as he parried an overhead strike from the mutant and tore the tip of his blade across it's throat. Stepping back he saw the young outrider stab his sabre into one of the monster's back.

Spinning Dieter saw a saw-like blade being swung at his head, with blinding speed Dieter removed the beasts hand at the same time as Stefan stepped in and removed it's head.

The Champion nodded as he turned back to the fight.

Gasping Dieter dropped to one knee, the pain from his wound was overwhelming. A shadow covered him as he looked up to see another of the mutant's rearing over him, but it was no ugor, it was some sort of champion with large curved horns.

”Bastard!” Kurt roared as he stabbed his spear into the creature's back.

Roaring the beast turned, the spear still in it's back, and smashed his axe into the spearman's skull.

”No!” his brother screamed but the beast easily shattered his weapon before gutting him.

Dieter pushed himself to his feet and cut at the creature's leg but the Beastman's axe intercepted his blade. The man and monster traded swift blows but Dieter's strength was ebbing fast.

Steel give way before flesh as his arming sword shattered under a strike from the mutant's crude axe.

A shard of the metal drove into the soldier's shoulder.

Dieter let out a cry of pain as he collapsed, the monster laughed as it raised it's weapon overhead.

”Face me beast!” Stefan challenged as he leapt at it's back.

The champion of Stirland fought against the Champion of Chaos.

As the creature overextended it's strike Stefan buried his Zweihander in the beast's chest.

The monster snarled hatefully and drove it's axe into the man's chest.

”Dieter!” he screamed.

With a cry of rage and pain Dieter drove the tip of the standard into the back of the enemy's throat, he held on desperately as the giant of a beast tried to turn.

After a few moment's it's movements became weak and desperate. With their leader dead the small warband broke and fled.

Dieter stumbled over to Stefan but the man was dead, turning he pulled the man's two-hander sword from the monster's chest.
Dragging the zweihander across the ground the man limped across the ground, using the standard as a walking stick he limped across what moments before had been a small skirmish.

He saw the corpses of the spearmen lying near each other, the archer also lay dead but one of the fallen men still breathed. Dieter walked over to the survivor and leant down beside the young noble.

”Are you alright?” he asked.

”I'm going to die.” the boy wept.
”No you're not...get up.” he growled grabbing the outrider and pulling him to his feet.

He was covered in wounds, Dieter couldn't guess the severity but from the pale tone of the boy's face it wasn't good.

”Come on.” he said softly.

Leaning on each other the two men shuffled off into the forest, the end of their second day after what would become known as the Battle of Bloodied Fields.


Dieter awoke five days later and found out that he had been found a day later by the Count himself, leading a second army to wipe out the beastman presence, beside the corpse of a young light cavalryman, still holding the provincial colours, standard wavering in the breeze.

Stirland's ruler himself commanded this lone survivor be brought to his personal physician.

After a while of sitting silently he began to weep for the young aristocrat who he had never thought to learn the name of.

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