As I was thinking all these things I heard a horn. No signal that my regiment uses... My musing was sadly correct. I looked into my confused comrades faces. This would be the last time I would see them alive. I took in the moment, the moment before an army is killed. I would be unable to save them... But I will not die, I will make sure each body is buried. I will not die. I was sure of at least that. Our commanding officers called out orders. Most of us were slow to react or didn't react at all. Me and the other more experienced veterans were near the middle of the cohort of soldiers. For a cohort was all that remained after the past few weeks. I had always thought switching marching order so that we would each go through the sludge at the back and thick snow in the front would leave us open. Even if we were all equally tired our usual formation was completely destroyed. But neither the less, we formed up as best we could waiting for our doom. The glint of helmets started riding out of the hills. Trapped in the valley, we had no escape. Our opponents appeared to be the last of the rebellion and various mercenary groups. Only two things gave me some hope of living. Nobody was able to ride horses in this weather, perhaps some people might be able to run. And even though we were outclassed in most every way, we still had more soldiers and military discipline, but not enough to turn the tide. The enemy approached, their colors melding together to an unintelligible mass of what looked like living death. As they neared my brother's in arms lost courage. Their very deepest fears would be realized today and escape wasn't an option. Some even screamed and tried to run, shoving their way through comrades, knocking them to the ground and laying vulnerable. Even the most hardened warrior felt fear. The fear of death is like no other. It's suffocating, it instills a feeling of hopelessness that surpasses any other. At least that's what I had heard. For I never felt fear, I knew instability of mind is on par if not worse than that of the body. The enemy had finally reached our disarrayed lines. We were surrounded, and with all hope of running gone, we fought. I have never heard the sounds of war described accurately. All descriptions talk of the screech of metal and the screams of falling soldiers. But they are all off the mark. In battle there is indeed banging of metal and screams. But that metal is different when your fighting, it is no longer metal, but living death, on which connecting with it will bring out a painful demise. Most likely not from being stabbed but underneath the boots of your own comrades is where you'll meet your fate. The crunch under your foot was the worst part of a battle. Looking down and seeing the mangled bodies of people you once called friends. Their lifeless eyes, broken arms and legs. I've found that people assume that when a bone breaks out of you it's splinted and white. But that's not the case. It is crushed, ruined to the point that it is beyond recognition. With black ooze streaming from the bone mixing with the blood. Even I cringed a little whenever I heard a crunch. The enemies were slowly taking over our lines. The only thing keeping us from getting decimated was our superior training but we were freezing, tired, and hopeless. The ferocious fighting spirit we usually had was lacking. Everyone knew that we would die today. Everyone but me. I had no family to return to, my few friends were dying before my eyes, I had no overarching goal or aspiration. There is nothing driving me other than the will to do some good before I died. Since I don't believe I've achieved that goal yet, I would not die. My former friends were now falling around me, leaving only me and few others in the middle alive. It's strange that my sword was still clean when most of our soldiers were dead, but I will get vengeance for them. I had never understood vengeance for the sake of the dead. It always made more since for me to think of it as for the safety the living. Now the enemy was upon me. It was time to win, to kill, to analilate. I readied myself. As they were closing in my vision turned red, my posture and emotions beast like, like a predator stalking prey, certain of my victory. Then I scared them. I was not human and my race was feared by all humans. I was the last of a warlike demi human clan. Me and my now dead brethren have the appearance of humans but we were stronger, faster, smarter, and much more ferocious than any human. Our bones are like steel, and we were gifted with natural weapons that were apart of our body. We're capable of shooting two spikes made of our bone out from the back of our forearms so that could be used almost like swords. Of course they did not have the same maneuverability as regular swords, but this disadvantage was rectified by the fact we could sheath and unsheathe them at will and at great speed. By doing this we could effectively avoid any attempt and blocking our attack with a sword by just going around it and no soldier is properly trained against our attacks. My armor and shield was specially made to accommodate the blade. As soon as the nearest soldiers saw this they grew weary but the pushing from behind them forced them to fight me. I jumped towards my prey in an almost suicidal move, but it was through this that I was able to live. The element of surprise is as deadly as any blade. I ripped and teared through them, using whatever I could, other weapons, tooth and nail, and even their comrades bodies to kill as many as I could. No man could hope to defend. The opposing forces were made of many factions and unable to properly cooperate so in their haste to kill me they inadvertently stabbed each other. I moved fast and efficiently, killing those that I could while moving as fast as I could. Everything was calculated, you could even call it a form of art. Almost like a tornado of death shredding through anything in its path. The crunch of my boots on my fallen comrades drove me to fight faster, determined to not let their sacrifice be in vain. The enemy had been outnumbered at the begin of the battle with only about two hundred to three hundred combatants to start with but after fighting my fellow soldiers there was only about one hundred of them left. In the past minute or so I had gotten them down to fifty. But now things were more complicated. Down the valley pass I saw soldiers marching quickly over to my position. They must have been sent to help us, as we were very behind schedule. I would be forced to fight with my extra blades but the soldiers might see. My kind were not near extinction for no reason. We had all been hunted for our warlike and barbaric nature. Luckily I never liked my kinds ways and left before they were slaughtered. If I was seen I would probably be considered an enemy and killed on sight, I have to be quick. I redoubled my speed, my arms almost dragging the rest of my body. I became more vicious, biting throats and ripping bellies open. There was only one left now and the soldiers had gotten near enough to force me to sheath my arm blades. The remaining enemy tried to beg for mercy, but I picked up an axe and drove it down through his skull.