Thru sheer determination and some luck, Borissomeone survives the challenge. Please exalt the Victor.
The fog flees before us, just as the enemy flees into the clammy mass. At my side my brother, hatred clutches at my chest, rage sinks its claws deep into my soul for what he did to Isabelle. The last of the enemy disappear over a rise, it seems the fog follows them a few lazy wet fingers linger as we pursue. Catching one man, limping from a leg wound, my brother slashes his back opening a gaping wound, flesh and bone exposed the man falls only to be trampled by the men following us.
Up and over the rise we go, the fog sits heavy in the valley before us, we approach slowly now caution making us ebb forward. We stop, the land holds it breath, shapes move from within the grayness, suddenly the land breaths again and the fog is ripped away reveling our doom. I know today I will more than likely die, but I will seek redemption for Isabelle’s soul before I leave middle earth. The first ranks are crushed under the pounding frenzy that is the Mumakil, men surge forward blades flashing, trying to hack at the flesh of the towering beasts, my brother is knocked up against me, something inside me breaks. This is for Isabelle; I scream at him my sword aimed at his head, the blow is blocked, she should never have had said no to me, my brother growls back, around us men die but we care not for hatred is a powerful force.
Again our blades meet, my shield takes a blow, his sword stops my next, back and forth we dance. Stepping forward I smash my shield into him, he stumbles back. I start forward, again ready to trade blows and release his blood. One moment he is there the next a massive foot crushes him, his blood coats my armour, painting me with his death. The rage leaves me as I turn and run, back over the rise the sounds of my fellow soldiers dying chasing me as I run.
Here's what brought us to this... http://www.twcenter.net/forums/showthread.php?t=364765