Version 2.0
With a plan of action settled, it was easy to get the ball rolling. Supplies were gathered, men were readied, and weapons were collected. Brandon and Hawthorn quickly sent a message back to Elder Oak, asking him to prepare the ritual Hawthorn had devised. They also requested the preparation of defences for the village, anticipating an imminent retaliation attack from the Others. They also called for the aid of the kings asking them to send any men and weapons they could for a final defence.
Men clad in layers of fur and leather, with frozen sweat on skin and breath visible in the cold air, sharpened weapons and checked armour. They held themselves high as Brandon told them of the plan and asked for one final sacrifice that all the men were determined to give even if it led straight to their death. Though not all the men had obsidian weapons if their death would allow their friends, family, and kids the chance to live through this, then it was a worthy sacrifice in their eyes.
"We believe in you, Brandon." His men would tell him. "We know you do right by us and our families even if we die. We are glad to fight by your side as we know you do too." They smiled at him, patted his arm and they sharpened their weapons.
As the army marched through the snow-covered plains, the trees around them seemed to sway in harmony, guided by wood dancers who manipulated their every movement. Birds bared the winter chill and soared above, their wings cutting through the frigid air as they scouted in front of the army.
Under the cloak of the Long Night, Brandon silently led the army through the frigid darkness. As they moved forward, the shadows moved around them, as the Others, like a moth to light, were drawn towards them, their life and vitality were too tempting a prize for them. The chance of adding to their growing army like a juicy steak.
Gradually the shadows gave way to the vastness of the Other's army – a formidable assembly of wights, ice spiders, and White Walkers. Leading the army, sitting upon a massive ice spiders strode the Other and it gleefully watched the enabling humans. It's a grand price for it to lead the change into human lands.
The quietude carried a weight, punctuated only by the occasional groan of the ice beneath their boots and the soft crunch of the snow. The night magnifies the size of the opposing force, their dark shapes sprawling across the landscape as the gait light of fire and moon barely revealed the full army. In the heart of the long night, there were no ambient sounds no birds to make tweets no insects to buzz, everything was dead. There was no smell, no flowers to sprout, no bees to pollinate, nothing would bloom. There was no taste, no fresh foods to bake and cook, no mother to make homemade Friday dinner, there was no love.
Still, the commanders pressed forward, as the ground shook and bounced with the marching of thousands. As Brandon surveyed the vastness of the armies, his opposing forces went on forever, whilst his forces were dwarfing into mere specks on the vast white canvas. They stood firm no man broke rank with shields and spears formed.
Brandon, standing at the forefront of his army. He turned to his comrades, his eyes matching the smile on his face. "Remember, we charge for the Other," he declared, a determination in his voice that resonated through the ranks.
"Aye!" came the unified response from the assembled warriors. The anticipation reached its peak as Brandon, Hother, and Harmond raised their voices in unison, shouting the command that would unleash the storm upon the frozen plain. "CHARGE!"
The battlefield erupted into chaos as the armies surged forward. The pounding of feet, the clanking of weapons, and the fervent shouts of men echoed across the expanse. The charge was met with a shivering crack from the Other, causing an unsettling shiver down the spines of those who heard it.
The white walkers, in response to the Other's command, emitted horrifying screeched cracks of their own before they charged forward. The clash of bronze, obsidian, and ice was now inevitable, the two forces hurtling towards each other with the intensity of a cataclysmic storm before they exploded into each other as the liens met. The wood dancers led the change as their trees battered their way into the line.
Brandon and his party surged forward with a fierce determination, cutting through the ranks of wights like a hot knife through butter. The air was filled with cracking as a clash of weapons against bone. Each swing of their weapons was met with the brittle resistance of the undead, as they fought to penetrate deep into the heart of the enemy lines.
The sounds of battle were deafening as chaos reverberated through the winter expanse. Men shouted with unbridled ferocity, their war cries melding with the determined screams of the dying. The sharp clang of weapons striking bone and the sickening thud of bodies falling to the ground did not slow them down but sped them up.
Brandon and his comrades pressed on, relentlessly cutting down wights in their path. The cold air became thick with the acrid scent of battle, the metallic tang of blood mingling with the biting chill of the winter winds. The fight for every inch of ground was fierce, and as they neared the heart of the enemy lines, the intensity of the struggle only heightened.
Through the chaos, Brandon could hear the commands of the Other, directing the wights to counter the advance. The battle reached a crescendo of violence as the party fought their way through the relentless tide.
The Other, raised its icy blade and uttered an otherworldly command that sent a shiver through the ranks of the white walkers. With a gesture, it directed the white walkers to converge on the flanks of the intruders, creating a trap to ensnare them within the icy embrace of death.
As the white walkers closed in from all sides, the determination of Brandon and his party only burned brighter. They chopped through the frozen assailants, hacking, smashing, and battering their way through the icy skeletal foes, and though comrades fell they still pressed on. The frigid air was filled with the clashing of obsidian, the haunting moans of the wights, and the eerie screeches of the white walkers as they sought to subdue the relentless invaders.
The Other, hovering at the rear of the army, had underestimated the tenacity of the trapped humans. Their determination for life and victory was a blazing fire that could not be extinguished. Brandon and his comrades fought like cornered animals; each strike was a testament to their unyielding will to survive.
Hother, amid the chaos, boomed out, his voice cutting through the tumult of battle. "Nearly there, you fucks! Come on!" The rallying cry echoed through the frozen plains. As the party pressed forward, the trap set by the Other began to crumble beneath the weight of their fierce determination.
As Brandon and his party relentlessly hacked their way through the ranks of the Other's army, a trail of destruction was left in their wake. The frozen ground was littered with the shattered remains of wights, the frozen corpses of white walkers, and the crushed bodies of both ice spiders and comrades. The chilling wind swept the snow as they pressed forward, determined to reach the Other.
Finally, they broke through the ranks of death and stood face to face with the Other, a being of haunting beauty marred by the anger burning in its eyes. Without hesitation, the Other charged at them, a blur of fury as it released the storm it had gathered at them as it bettered down the trees ripping them to shreds of freezing them in an instant. Then it with momentum smashed into the lines of men sending them flying before they crumbled to ice its cut had split the men in two, whilst a squad of White Walkers was not far behind.
The Other's combat prowess was formidable, marked by unparalleled strength and speed. Each swing of its icy blade was a death sentence for those unskilled enough. However, for all its power its ice and magic is no mightier than flesh and bone, for it lacked its fluidity.
It battered and broke through weaker men in retaliated strikes. Until it fell upon Hother who now bore the brunt of the Other's assault. A flash of ice-cutting through the air, and Hother's belly was gutted, the pain etched across his face.
And with a single cut, its icy grasp was upon Hother, spreading up to his chest like a virus looking to snuff out his life.
"You Bitch," he shouts out, a look of pure determination and adrenaline crossing over his face. "It isn't that easy to fucking kill me," he bellows as smashed his fist into the face of the Other cracking its once pristine face.
The ice spread up Hother's body trying to reach up to his heart growing closer to it. "Battle!" Hother shouts, wielding his two-handed sword.
With newfound need, Hother shows the true meeting of power, enacting his revenge on the Other. Hother, batters, and breaks upon the Other's defence as he blows with power chipping and slashing at the Other's Armour before targeting the Other's arm, chopping it off, and making it lose control of its weapon. The others were quick to join in, incapacitating it further by taking one of its legs. The battlefield resounds with the cries of Ice creaking as the White Walkers screech out like lost children.
Brandon swiftly ties up the Other, stuffing its mouth with rags of cloth and securing its body with tight ropes. Hother volunteers to carry it, lifting it effortlessly with one hand. "Let's go, move, move!" he shouts, still high on adrenaline as determined not to die. The party and their men quickly try to get away, fighting through the disorganised army of the Other. Despite the White Walker's best efforts, they lack the intelligence of the Other, resulting in a loss of coordination.
Their battle is intense but with their prize in hand, there is no way they would lose it now. They retreat far enough away before Harmond sounds his horn for retreat, allowing the army to pull back. The white walkers, confused and misunderstood, fail to chase after them, losing focus as the retreat successfully separates them from the pursuing enemy.