HOME | DD

Description
        The sounds of steel boots echoed through the corridor as the knight strode forth into the stables.
        A squire stood there, waiting for his master. He grabbed the reins and climbed onto the horse, the squire right behind him carrying a quiver of javelins, the knight's shield and his lance. The knight enticed his horse forward, the horse's hoofs imprinting his trail on the dusty ground.
        The knight joined his ranks of troops. He was a veteran of war, he had seen this scenario many times. He was prepared to die, since in his mind he should have died long ago. But something allowed him to carry on, to continue this life of servitude, to carry forth his lord's will.
        Horns tore the silence of the battlefield, as the enemy approached. Crude filthy beasts, wieilding flails and huge battleaxes, with snouts of pigs for noses and brown logs of muscles for arms.
The horn sounded once more, the knight took his position on the front of the talon, his squire right behind him, ready to give assistance.
"Squire!" bellowed the knight "My lance!"
The squire hefted the heavy lance, a long wooden shaft with a stout metal tip.
He hefted it on the arm of the knight, strapping it on tightely so that it wouldn't fall off.
"Stand fast, men!" Bellowed the General atop a nearby hillock "Take with you as many as you can. Better to die free than to live in shackles! To arms!!"
The beasts started forward, banging their weapons on their shields, chanting their songs of war.
Rain started falling, the line of knights so straight that god himself must have drawn it. The cavalry banner rose from the hill, the signal for a cavalry charge. Another horn sounded and every knight spured his horse forward at half-trot.
The banner of the House of Lion fluttered in the air.
The old veteran knight felt the world slowing down, the noises diminishing, as he prepared himself for the frontal impact. Inner doubts, past demons, regret for choices made and not made vanished. Now the only thing that mattered was the enemy.
The sounds of hooves slowed down to a crawl, every knight on that battlefield drifting into the mind of the warrior, the place where the only thing of value is the skill of brandishing a sword.
The beasts started running, the knights at a full gallop now.
"For Glory!!" Shouted the banner-bearer.
"For Glory!!" Shouted the knights, their voices echoing throught the battlefield in unisson with the thundering hooves of their majestic horses.
Screams mingled with the sound of clashing metal and the grunting of horses, foaming from the mouth and bleeding from the flanks, as the two armies clashed on one another like two tidal waves.
The knight's lance broke on the chest of  one of the beasts, while the stump left cracked open another one's skull. The horse's breastplate felt the first taint of blood as it ran over another one of the beasts. With a quick motion, the knight unstrapped the lance and unsheathed his broadsword.
The other knights riding beside him ran throught the beasts lines like a tiger's claw ripping through silk, leaving behind only bodies, cracked bones, fresh blood and red flesh. Every bounce of the horse's saddle, one arm or one head was cut off, every step of the horses gallop another beast was trampled.
The horse stopped at a point where he could cross no further, the bodies so tightely packed that only through death could be cleared.
"To me, comrads!!" screamed the knight as he pulled on his reins, manoeuvering his horse to dodge the blows of the beasts, his comrads in arms coming to his aid.
Nothing mattered inside the mind of that knight, but to die and take as many beasts with him as he could. He had accepted death before, he had invited her for dinner, and slept with her, he walked daily with her, he had faced her countless times in the battlefield. But death didn't bless him with her ghastly touch.
A blow to the stomach, another one to the head, and the old veteran knight slumped from his saddle to the ground.
He felt blood in his mouth and feet on his back, as he was being ignored by the beast men that only wanted to kill more and more enemies.
The sounds of battle faded and he saw her again.
Finally Death came to him.
He saw as she waltsed through the battlefield, taking souls with her as men and beast fought each other. She walked to him and crouched on the  floor. The knight smiled, he finally was going to have his rest. The rest of a warrior.
"Your time has not yet come." The sound of her voice was like spiders walking on a stone floor" Rise Sir knight, and live yet through another day".
What cruelty, what torture, to live another day whithouth finding any peace.
Whit a bellow of war, the knight grappled his sword's handle and rose to his feet with a battle-cry that made the nearer beasts shiver with fear. He slashed down on the first beast in front of him, cutting him down from shoulder to waist. In one fluid motion he continued on, slashing through the neck of another nearby creature. He hacked, slashed, lunged, thrusted and parried in a sadistic dance of the sword, blood spurting everywhere he crossed.
After the last of the creatures was cut down, the knight stood on the battlefield, his face red with the blood of his enemies, his sword dull and dented from all the slain beasts.
He slumped to his knees and wept, not being able to face another day alive.
Looking down, he saw two feet, white as ebony and a mantle as black as the night. He looked up and there she was. She touched his chest and smiled a lover's smile.
"Come with me warrior, it is time for your well earned rest".
The warrior smiled, a tear rolling down his cheek. He would fight no longer.
He slumped forward, dead, His comrades coming for him.
Nothing mattered. Now he could sleep in peace, he would never feel tormented again, he would not have to live this existence again. He was free. Free at last.
        Death. The warrior's greatest gift.

Description
        The sounds of steel boots echoed through the corridor as the knight strode forth into the stables.
        A squire stood there, waiting for his master. He grabbed the reins and climbed onto the horse, the squire right behind him carrying a quiver of javelins, the knight's shield and his lance. The knight enticed his horse forward, the horse's hoofs imprinting his trail on the dusty ground.
        The knight joined his ranks of troops. He was a veteran of war, he had seen this scenario many times. He was prepared to die, since in his mind he should have died long ago. But something allowed him to carry on, to continue this life of servitude, to carry forth his lord's will.
        Horns tore the silence of the battlefield, as the enemy approached. Crude filthy beasts, wieilding flails and huge battleaxes, with snouts of pigs for noses and brown logs of muscles for arms.
The horn sounded once more, the knight took his position on the front of the talon, his squire right behind him, ready to give assistance.
"Squire!" bellowed the knight "My lance!"
The squire hefted the heavy lance, a long wooden shaft with a stout metal tip.
He hefted it on the arm of the knight, strapping it on tightely so that it wouldn't fall off.
"Stand fast, men!" Bellowed the General atop a nearby hillock "Take with you as many as you can. Better to die free than to live in shackles! To arms!!"
The beasts started forward, banging their weapons on their shields, chanting their songs of war.
Rain started falling, the line of knights so straight that god himself must have drawn it. The cavalry banner rose from the hill, the signal for a cavalry charge. Another horn sounded and every knight spured his horse forward at half-trot.
The banner of the House of Lion fluttered in the air.
The old veteran knight felt the world slowing down, the noises diminishing, as he prepared himself for the frontal impact. Inner doubts, past demons, regret for choices made and not made vanished. Now the only thing that mattered was the enemy.
The sounds of hooves slowed down to a crawl, every knight on that battlefield drifting into the mind of the warrior, the place where the only thing of value is the skill of brandishing a sword.
The beasts started running, the knights at a full gallop now.
"For Glory!!" Shouted the banner-bearer.
"For Glory!!" Shouted the knights, their voices echoing throught the battlefield in unisson with the thundering hooves of their majestic horses.
Screams mingled with the sound of clashing metal and the grunting of horses, foaming from the mouth and bleeding from the flanks, as the two armies clashed on one another like two tidal waves.
The knight's lance broke on the chest of  one of the beasts, while the stump left cracked open another one's skull. The horse's breastplate felt the first taint of blood as it ran over another one of the beasts. With a quick motion, the knight unstrapped the lance and unsheathed his broadsword.
The other knights riding beside him ran throught the beasts lines like a tiger's claw ripping through silk, leaving behind only bodies, cracked bones, fresh blood and red flesh. Every bounce of the horse's saddle, one arm or one head was cut off, every step of the horses gallop another beast was trampled.
The horse stopped at a point where he could cross no further, the bodies so tightely packed that only through death could be cleared.
"To me, comrads!!" screamed the knight as he pulled on his reins, manoeuvering his horse to dodge the blows of the beasts, his comrads in arms coming to his aid.
Nothing mattered inside the mind of that knight, but to die and take as many beasts with him as he could. He had accepted death before, he had invited her for dinner, and slept with her, he walked daily with her, he had faced her countless times in the battlefield. But death didn't bless him with her ghastly touch.
A blow to the stomach, another one to the head, and the old veteran knight slumped from his saddle to the ground.
He felt blood in his mouth and feet on his back, as he was being ignored by the beast men that only wanted to kill more and more enemies.
The sounds of battle faded and he saw her again.
Finally Death came to him.
He saw as she waltsed through the battlefield, taking souls with her as men and beast fought each other. She walked to him and crouched on the  floor. The knight smiled, he finally was going to have his rest. The rest of a warrior.
"Your time has not yet come." The sound of her voice was like spiders walking on a stone floor" Rise Sir knight, and live yet through another day".
What cruelty, what torture, to live another day whithouth finding any peace.
Whit a bellow of war, the knight grappled his sword's handle and rose to his feet with a battle-cry that made the nearer beasts shiver with fear. He slashed down on the first beast in front of him, cutting him down from shoulder to waist. In one fluid motion he continued on, slashing through the neck of another nearby creature. He hacked, slashed, lunged, thrusted and parried in a sadistic dance of the sword, blood spurting everywhere he crossed.
After the last of the creatures was cut down, the knight stood on the battlefield, his face red with the blood of his enemies, his sword dull and dented from all the slain beasts.
He slumped to his knees and wept, not being able to face another day alive.
Looking down, he saw two feet, white as ebony and a mantle as black as the night. He looked up and there she was. She touched his chest and smiled a lover's smile.
"Come with me warrior, it is time for your well earned rest".
The warrior smiled, a tear rolling down his cheek. He would fight no longer.
He slumped forward, dead, His comrades coming for him.
Nothing mattered. Now he could sleep in peace, he would never feel tormented again, he would not have to live this existence again. He was free. Free at last.
        Death. The warrior's greatest gift.