Nefre gripped his sword tight as he watched the charging hoard of soldiers begin to flood across the plains their screams of battle echoing even from a distance. As they got closer, he could tell that most of them were lightly armored, some wearing only leather straps across their chests for protection. Some had helmets with wicked-looking horns on them, while others had no helmets at all. The weapons seemed just as varied some using axes, while others used swords and smaller-looking spears. Though one thing they had in common was, they all seemed covered in blue paint on their faces, but he couldn't make it out to much. It all made him tremble as he realized that these were men of war and blood that wouldn't hesitate to cut any of them down at all. A trait that he was going to have to muster if he was going to survive.
"Archers! Fire!" The command came out sharp across the air somehow even over the charging onslaught of bodies. The sound of arrows releasing from the bows with a Swoosh sound suddenly filled the air as Nefre looked up to watch the hail of arrows come hurtling down right into the enemy, many hitting their mark and taking whoever they sunk into to the ground. It should have given Nefre more hope, but seeing the wave continue to come forward despite the arrows continuing to rain down on them, he realized how many people they were about to face. "Mages! Fire!" Nefre had no time to register that command as fireballs suddenly came from the back nowhere near as many as the arrows it looked like only three or four, but the slammed into the ground with force exploding scattering men and earth all the same.
Screams of men being ripped apart or even set on fire filled the air, along with the stench of blood quickly wafting forward. The second round of fireballs seemed to slow up the advance for a moment, taking some of the steam out of the charge, but it would build again soon Nefre was sure of it. "Now all footmen advance! Charge them! Break their lines!" The call of the General once again cut the sky, and the Captain of the Militia finally found his voice again as well, having gone sheet white from watching the battle. "Militia, this is your time as well as charge the enemy!" With a cry to bolster his spirit, he went forward, as did Nefre and everyone else. He cried out as well, finding his courage somewhere even as the carnage he saw happening in front of him was still sinking into his psyche.
Nefre ran with the others into the still reeling Ducomor army though many were quick to re-grip their weapons and let out furious warcry's to meet the onslaught heading straight into them. Nefre was the first to clash with one of their soldiers on the front line, he could see on the man's bare are a one just like him something that stood out to him at that moment. He lunged in with a stab at the man using his momentum from the running to catch the man off guard. CLANG! His sword was blocked aside in time as the man brought the head of his Axe up just in time. Keeping a good grip on his sword, Nefre reset himself as the man gripped the shaft and swung it straight down at his head. Nefre got his sword up angling it just so the blow glanced down his blade instead of taking it straight on. His adrenaline was in high gear. He was already sweating; the smell of blood was everywhere, but all thoughts at the moment were just for survival.
As the Axe slid off his blade, he brought his sword back and over his head, bringing it down in a hard diagonal slash at the man with a loud warcry this time. His opponent brought the Axe back up to block his sword, slamming into what must be reinforced metal underneath the blade so he couldn't just hack through it. It did send a jolt through his arms while he grit teeth. His opponent though growled and pushed his blade back along with him threatening to send him stumbling backwards. As he took a few steps back, his opponent came rushing in, swinging his Axe horizontally at Nefre's head with all intentions of decapitating him. It seemed though he misjudged his push as Nefre was able to get the balance back before the swing and duck right under the blow, though he could hear the wind whistle overhead. Pushing his heel into the ground, Nefre lunged forward with another yell and slammed himself forward sword and all.
He felt the sword plunge right into his opponent's unprotected gut sinking all the way in while drove forward, tackling the man with him to the ground. Both men fell onto the ground. The man screamed in agony, the blade driving down through his body to the hilt. His warm blood rushed up over his stomach and onto Nefre's hands as he looked down at the man wide-eyed as he realized what happened. In his fight for survival, he had taken another person's life. For a moment, all the sounds faded away, and all the battles dissipated around him, and he was locked in just looking down at the man whose life he was ending. Their blue eyes looked at him with hatred and possibly fear. Nefre noticed though he still had a grip on his Axe and wasn't done yet. Crying out in rage and frustration at this whole moment, 'Why am I here!" His thoughts screamed as he pulled the sword up out of the man's stomach plunging it straight back down into his chest, ending any resistance and quickly snuffing out the light in their eyes.
As he took in deep breaths almost gasping for air, he looked up and around, realizing the battle was still raging in full swing fighting happening all around him. His little fight probably hadn't been more than a few seconds, and other Militia members were locked in battles for their lives. He quickly stumbled to his feet, holding his sword hands thankfully, not trembling his adrenaline still pumping while he watched as others got cut down around him on either side. His fighting wasn't over either as another warrior came to fill the role of his fallen comrade, seemingly charging right at Nefre. Nefre readied his sword to fight a spear hacked into the man from the side, plunging in deep before pulling out his blood splattering the ground as he collapsed dead almost instantly.
Giving thanks to whatever god was listening, Nefre joined the fray jumping into a fight as he saw a fellow militiaman fall on the ground, ready to get hacked to pieces and stabbed the enemy soldier in his back saving the persons life. The battlefield felt like complete carnage to him; he even heard the thundering of hooves but didn't see the Calvary of their army smash into the sides of the enemies men though he did hear the screams. It made him believe they were winning as they started to push forward, driving the Ducomor army back slowly. Though something was nagging in the back of Nefre's mind like something was off, something he wasn't paying attention to in the heat of battle. 'Heat...it's not hot because the sun isn't shining, but...the sun was blazing when we started.'
Sparing a moment to look up at the sky in a small lull, he realized the sky had become completely overcast, blotting out the sun, and he knew that wasn't right. Though he found himself unable to dwell on it as he was thrust into combat once again though another militiaman joined in to help him out, and they were able to overwhelm him quickly. Yet it wouldn't matter as it suddenly thundered overhead before lightning bolts snapped down arcing through the sky into the back and middle lines of the Lenwall army the sound was deafening, blotting out the screams of those who died but not the smell. It didn't stop, though, as more streaks of lightning slammed down as if controlled and aimed right their army alone.
Nefre's ears were ringing. He felt dizzy from the sound almost blinded from the flash. His eyes adjusted to watch as the Ducomors men seemingly retreated until he saw what must have been their main army suddenly come washing down onto the plains. He knew from the much better armor they were wearing; this was the real force, and now the Lenwall army was sitting flat-footed on the plains disoriented from lighting. The regiment was lead by what had to have been an actual mountain of a man. He looked near a giant as he wielded a massive two-handed axe, his body adorned in full plate mail, and yet he came thundering towards their lines.
It was a moment of pure fear for Nefre. Everything else was just a taste of what real fear was all instincts pushed him to run. To run from this onslaught from the mountainous man who seemed almost legend more than reality. He was shaken out of his stupor as he heard the rallying cry of General Abrius "Soldiers Form Ranks! Cavalry Pull back! The mages will block their lighting!" The General was wading right into the lines his helmet donned a truly splendid black knight on the battlefield as he stood head and shoulders among the troops holding a finely crafted long sword and shield. "We will meet them! We will hold our ground here!" His presence alone seemed to rally everyone, and his voice restored their faith. Even Nefre felt resolve that seems to come out of nowhere, and he stood straighter ready to fight. As both armies got ready to collide once again, they all missed that the clouds had darkened, even more, something was coming.