"Lord Rothgarr, the enemies are inbound; your presence is needed immediately!"
Sir Rothgarr clearly heard his lieutenant's voice, but he was not able to move his limbs even a bit.
"My lord, get yourself together and pray you stand on your feet, speed of the Divines! We have to act now and fast!" Wuntwail, his foremost officer, pleaded so.
Rothgarr well understood what he should be doing now. He once again tried to raise himself up from his place, but he couldn't. He felt like he was wearing an armor with its power-source completely out of order. Almost every single part of his body wouldn't just follow what he demands. Only a few minutes before then, he was drinking his liquor alone in the luxurious bedroom, wishing that his poison would send him to the realm of eternal dreams soon enough. Yet, at this point, he was not in his silky night gown of a nobleman, but wearing instead a sturdy power-armor of tech-knights in service of the Holy Empire and only. Wuntwail then shouted to his ears.
"For the love of gods, it is time you get the hell up! You try sticking onto the ground like a maggot once more, then I shall bury you alive!" Now Rothgarr was up on his feet, shine and bright.
"Status, for 3-Divines' sake! Give me the status right now!"
Wuntwail, back to his senses, made a report to his superior straight away. "Aye, my lord. Those bandit scums are closing into our position, now with their numbers reaching two thousand. We are currently around 8 kilo-meters away from them, according to the reports of our sentries. Although they lack of heavy artillery to tear us apart, they still outnumber us five to one, Lord Rothgarr. Curse to their parents who brought so many of them unto this planet!"
"Well, Wuntwail, now this is truly a grievous situation we are in. Gather up men and women as much as possible on our front line and tell them to ready all their weapons and batteries they got. Their numbers are formidable, indeed, but yet they are mostly not disciplined; we shall at least stall them by concentrating our firepower front and center. Tell your officers to be quick about it." He gave first of his commands unto the adjutant.
"Aye, my lord. Your wish is my command." Shortly, he passed the order down to his junior officers through the comm-link.
"While our men-at-arms are on the front, we, the tech-knights of valor, shall ready our war-gears and metal steeds for fast assaults. We aim to make those bandits fall back like cowards, not to eliminate every one of them. Knights on steed, including myself, shall bring a terror unto them while our infantries should be keeping our enemies at bay. Prepare your tech-knights and squires, for the time of war is nigh." This was Sir Rothgarr's second order.
"Without hesitation." Wuntwail left the commander's place as soon as he heard his superior.
The enemies soon became visible even to the naked eyes of foot soldiers in their trench. Though lightly armed without proper poly-mails, their presence itself on the horizon was a formidable sight indeed, since the number of Rothgarr's troops barely reached four hundred in total. As the ravagers were closing in by every seconds passing, each men and women under the Empire's flag clutched harder onto their hand-cannons. Big guns, from a distance, started to pour shells and plasma unto the rushing enemies. They managed to shred quite a number of their targets into pieces, but still those savages didn't cease the assault. Some enemy war-bikers survived the fierce bombardment and then got into the range of the hand-cannons, which were already at the moment readied and primed. Soon, the small guns, following the artillery, spitted out volleys of lasers and plasmas onto their foe. They succeeded in taking out many of the remaining bikers so far. Some riders got either burnt alive or mutilated while on their iron steeds. Their bikes, too, occasionally went off and exploded after getting hit from hand-cannons afar, blowing up their masters alike in the process.
Men and women of the Empire were having casualties, too. Plasma shots from surviving bikers tore off heads and limbs from dozens of the soldiers holding their line. A moment later, there were even more plasmas and lasers fired upon Rothgarr's side, as the enemy troops finally arrived near the trench. At this point, even anti-aircraft guns were being used to drive away the bandits as much as possible. The whole battle got more and more bloody and fierce, with casualties on both sides ceaselessly creeping up.
Sir Rothgarr and his cavalries on sturdy bikes soon appeared on a flank of the enemy ranks. They first circled around the mob so as to distract their firepower, while at the same time picking off some enemy troops with their plasma-bolts. As expected, almost the entire gang of bandits started to panick. After circling them a few more times, Sir Rothgarr shortly made a transmission to Wuntwail who was riding on the opposite side.
"Wuntwail, in 40 seconds I and my valorous knights shall try to pierce through the enemy lines. You and your men are to follow us as soon as we make a breach into their ranks."
"Aye, as you command so shall it be."
Rothgarr's knights then rearranged their formation and prepared to strike through their foes. Soon, they speeded up their bikes, with their tech-swords held aloft, and charged straight into the enemies.
"In the name of the Emperor, and for the glory of the Divines, charge!" Shouted Rothgarr.
The tech-knights sliced the enemy troops as they speeded up through their ranks. They panicked, wailed, and screamed as their arms, legs and even heads were being cut down mercilessly.
"Death and damnation upon the curs! Kill them in the very name of His Majesty!" He roared.
Sir Rothgarr was truly the fury incarnate even among the band of ferocious knights. With his pair of tech-swords he relentlessly slashed and cleaved the bandits in his way. He became the very tool of havoc, destruction, and despair unto his foe. Trails of the rampaging war-bikes were soon covered with blood and gore. Wuntwail and his fellow knights followed up the way of carnage their master had brought upon.
"In the holy name of the Emperor, we go into the fray!" He cried aloud.
Wuntwail and the knights then joined up the slaughter. They minced the enemies bits to bits under their heavy war-bikes, and at the same time they spilled the bloody innards on the ground with their tech-swords. There, however, fell one of the knights off his steed while he was trying to evade an enemy on his way. Afterwards, a vengeful mob of bandits surrounded him and then tore his limbs and flesh apart. 'Soon, his soul shall be reaching the kingdom of 3-Divines up in the heavens.' So thought Wuntwail, mourning his fallen brother-in-arms. He and his knights pressed on slaughtering the enemy troops, until they received a transmission from their lord.
"All units, now is the time we withdraw. Our infantries shall make a push onto our enemies anytime soon; the end of this battle is near." Rothgarr said to the knights via his comm-link.
The whole company of tech-knights exited the scene of devastation, with bloody remains of the foes left behind. Right after the evacuation, the officers on front then gave an order to charge. With swords in hands and bayonets fixed on their hand-cannons, the soldiers charged onto their terrified enemies without fear. Finally, the bandits began to falter, each of them breaking away from their ranks in horror. Nearly half of them were killed, barely without any prisoners of war left in the battle.
"All hail the glorious name of His Majesty! All praise the Divines that watch over us!" The victorious cried in joy.
"Everlasting glory to the Holy Empire and the Emperor!" Wuntwail returned the shouting of his men and women.
To Rothgarr, this was one among the glorious days he ever had in his life. He shall be hailed for ages as a valiant tech-knight who had done the impossible in the dire times of imminent doom. He looked at his trustful lieutenant and his old, best friend. He would have never been able to achieve such triumph without Wuntwail's aid. Wuntwail then gave a smile at him.
"Blessings of 3-Divines unto you, my lord." So said the dear friend.
All the sudden, his shape was getting twisted and distorted. Rothgarr rubbed off his eyes and looked into Wuntwail's face again. Now, even his presence itself went blurry. Strange noises began to be heard in Rothgarr's ears following the deformation of his friend. To him, they heard like wailings of the doomed, cries of a vengeful soul, or even noises coming out of the grinding teeth. After such illusions of senses, he found himself back in his night gown. His whole body was no longer that of the youth. His hair was now half-covered in silver, just like an old man.
He then started to feel terrified at what was happening all around him. Nobody was there amidst the darkness. He called out for his friend, Wuntwail, in desperation. He reached out his hand into the shadows to seek for help; still, none was there. "Wuntwail!" He called upon his brother-in-arms once again. "Wuntwail, where art thou?" He cried out among the dark. "I am truly sorry, my friend. It could not be helped; there were no other options left for me at that moment, I assure you! Forgive me, Wuntwail! Forgive my sins unto you!" He was now even begging for his friend's mercy.
Shortly, out of nowhere, a shadowy beast jumped onto him. Rothgarr screamed. The monster, Glen-gohr, started to tear him apart with its talons. He shrieked at the excruciating pain of his nerves being ripped away without mercy. He rolled his eyes in search of any help he could ever get. The ground underneath him was beginning to be soaked with his own blood. He squirmed, he twisted, he sighed in agony, and he was finally awake from his slumber.
The security alarms were ringing madly when he woke up in sweats. Light was all out; only the red lamps beneath the walls were flashing. The guards and knights were moving back and forth outside the bedroom in a rush. There was now an intruder in his palace.
Its name was Glen-gohr.