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The commander looked down at the map. Gazing through it. Inside a tent inside a forest, they had good intel that something rare was going to happen. Their nation had been fighting back the invaders for some time. Trying their hardest to resist the ever-encroaching power. But it was hard. So very hard. There was always more of them. And they fought with a ferocity their army had never seen before. Ruatha. A nation built upon conquest. It was in their people's blood. Their army was one of the best there was, the people of Gehena could not match them. But they had to try. They couldn't go quietly into the night. Desperate times bred desperate measures, and this was one of them. He was the last ranking officer in this theatre of war. The others had died or deserted. The Ruathans liked targeting them. They enjoyed sowing discord into their ranks. But with an entire theatre to command Robert took to it with fervor. And this was his best chance at winning it. A spy had provided him with a map. A map with a route on it. A route for the archlord of Ruatha. A route that would win the war in one fell swoop that would cut the head off the snake. He smashed a dagger into the ambush point. A thick forest. The perfect spot.

They had spread out into the trees. Archers spend the time finding good vantage points. Climbing into the trees to aim down onto the road. Lighter armored soldiers hid in tall bushes. And the armor clad soldiers found hiding spots behind rocks and hollows of trees. It had been set up perfectly. They hadn't been seen by the initial scouts, that was good. Now they just had to wait. Hidden.

There it was. The column of soldiers. Golden armored warriors, wielding pikes, and riding massive reptilian beasts, which were also clad in golden plate. Satorins he recalled being their name. Giant komodo dragon like things, but spikier, angrier, and VERY carnivorous. Thankfully the entire column wasn't just the golden warriors, they were Silva's honor guard. The elite of Ruatha. But he had brought his own here, born and bred warriors, people who had everything on the line, backed into a corner they were wild beasts themselves. Today they would match Ruatha's ferocity.

Robert waited and waited. Letting the column pull across. Farther and farther, until the target of his action came into sight. A massive red and gold wagon, fit for the archlord of a country. Drawn by particularly large and angry looking Satorins. They stopped rather suddenly. Almost all at once. The convoy's soldiers looking around and about, something was wrong. Did someone get spotted? Possibly. It was too big of a risk. It wasn't in the perfect spot but it would have to do. They couldn't risk the plan falling apart like that. A chill went up his spine, as if immense danger was ahead. He shrugged it off. Just pre battle jitters.

He brought his fingers to his mouth and blew a whistle. Signaling the start. On cue, a rain of arrows loosed into the convoy. Slaughtering dozens of the lighter armored soldiers. Beast men could be a problem to take down, but even they would fall beneath concentrated fire. Though the more dragon like ones where quite tough and required multiple volleys. However the more heavily armored ones shrugged through the arrows like they were nothing, smashing their scales and penetrating mere inches, or just out right bouncing off. Great tree limbs fell from the top of the tree line, dropping down onto the convoy. Crushing scores more, in a near instant frenzy started. The remaining soldiers of the convoy, reduced to a quarter of their strength near instantly didn't break. On the contrary they stayed iron willed. Forming up together to band against the soldiers which began to approach them. Mostly the golden armored soldiers left and a few of the heavily armored regulars. A pitiful sight compared to what they were before. Robert stood up, walking to the forefront of his men, all eyes were on him. He could feel the bestial rage of the Ruathans. Even so few in numbers they were terrifying.

"Surrender, and you will be spared. We have no wish to kill you. It is preferable we take you alive. You are surrounded, cut off, nowhere to run, and very very outnumbered. Think about this carefully." -He told them confidently, speaking loud and with authority. He couldn't let any weakness show, not to these monsters. Dozens of archers aimed at them, and nearly a hundred foot soldiers, they were outnumbered four to one. Only a fool would try to fight in such a position

A fool or a monster, a particularly large golden armored soldier raised his pike into the air. He didn't point it at the soldiers, just at the trees. Others followed suit. What where they doing? Archers readied another hail of arrows for all the good it will do. A single word came from that big warrior. A word Robert had hoped would have been one of surrender, but what he got was so bone chilling, so basic, so... simple. How? "Goooooood." The gilded soldier hissed out, mangled and distorted.

Bolts of light left their staffs, smashing into trees. Slashing through leaves, crushing boughs. Massive trees caught fire, and slowly began to fall over onto the ground. Smashing down. Sparks erupted everywhere, branches fell from the sky and onto the ground which set the underbrush alight. And not just branches, people too, the archers didn't have much choice when they came down... They eventually just did. One way or another. The soldiers went scrambling, trying to avoid crushing wood, and hammering trunk. As the fires erupted he swore he saw the door to that carriage open. But it was hard to see.

They were split up. The walls of fire proving the be an effective way of splitting their forces up. They were mad. Would they really entomb themselves in this fire with them? Mutually assured destruction? Is that what they craved? What monsters. A snap he could hear, a branch flew across the burning scene, smashing into him and sending him flying through a wall of flames, screaming as he flew through, and came smashing onto the ground. "Doom." He heard that word being said, echoing across the battlefield. He could hear it now. The sound of fighting, blades clashing against blades, armor clanking. Bows thwacking. Feet stomping, flesh tearing. But that voice was something else, it echoed across the battlefield as if it belonged. Who was that? He groaned standing up. And for a moment he wished he hadn't, he saw three of his soldiers in a fight for their lives against a monster. This one wasn't clad in gold, indeed it was nearly naked save for a kilt of leather around its waist. Nearly 10 feet in height. With black scarred scales, and curled horns. It wielded twin axes, both almost as big as a person. But he fought with them like they were nothing. One soldier tried to block. That was his mistake. His sword snapped in half and the axe cleaved into his body, killing him on the spot. Another one tried to take advantage of the apparent lack of concentration. Going for an abdominal stab into the beast, but the beast wasn't stupid. Its mighty tail came around, wrapping around a foot. Lifting the man off the ground and tossing him so high into the air Robert couldn't see him anymore. A distant scream was all that remained. The last soldiers tried to run, afraid. But the beast threw his free axe in a mighty throw, landing it right into the back of the guy. Pinning him into the ground, a slow death for him.

Robert grunted under his breath, putting a hand to the side of his helmet, blood leaking down. That tree branch had hurt, he was in no shape to fight at all. But monsters had to be fought, if he didn't who would? He unsheathed his sword, holding it at a ready stance, favoring his wounded side. The beast stalked forward, large and imposing. Decades of scars dotting its flesh, fresh wounds red and bloody. Arrows sticking from its thick hide, it might be a skilled warrior, but it was big, and it could bleed. "I am doom, I am death, I am the storm, the tide, the end of your world. I am Silva, archlord of Ruatha, and you are a man who has made a very very big mistake... captain Roberts isn't it?" The beast spoke, Roberts flinched, THAT was Silva? This... monster? No it can't be. He had heard stories of the archlord. Rumors and things, some called him a shadow that manifested in human form. Others said he was a snake, that hid in the shadows behind puppet lords. Others said he was a rumor, drawn up by the Ruathans to scare others. This thing before him though... It was truly terrifying. Splashes of blood, bits of flesh in its jaws, and claws. His axe running with blood. He took some steps back as it approached, trying to be careful. Looking for an opening, he couldn't rush into this. "Come now, where is your big words, your talk, your might? You attack me when I least expect it, slaughter my troops without provocation, you have the NERVE to proclaim yourself the victor before the battle was even won. You had the AUDACITY, to claim victory over me without so much as guaranteeing it. The ruin you see around is because of you, Roberts, and I'm going to make you realize that." He already knew Silva was right, he should have tried harder. He'd expected them to buckle whenever their forces broke, but no such thing was found. No, they didn't buckle, they didn't give up, they fought through as hard as they could, they were not like men, demons in the flesh of men. A scream was heard, and a metallic smack onto the ground. Silva's head tilted to the side to look at it for a moment, it was the man he had flung up into the air. He had finally come down and hit the ground with a very lethal smack. Robert took advantage. While the beast was distracted, he would strike.

He rushed forward running up to bring the sword around, striking the blade right into the meat of the beast's leg, slashing down right into the bone, but there it stopped. He grunted and a massive hand came down grabbing him by his sword arm, yanking the blade out and spinning him around smashing him into a burning tree. His sword fell out of his grasp as he grabbed onto the arm, holding onto it for support. He wasn't going to make it let go. "You will break." The monster said to him, and he was dragged by his head through the flames, the monster stepping through unafraid of it. Luckily enough his own armor was able to protect him from the short exposure of heat. There in the midst of the smoke and fire he was greeted to a crushing sight. His soldiers, or what was left of them on their knees. Held down at pike point. Reduced to a quarter of their own number, 25 roughly. While the golden armored soldiers dutifully watched them. Silva dropped him onto the ground in front of them. He grunted, trying to get to his feet, but a kick to the back of his legs put him on his knees like the rest. "What do you want?" Robert asked the beast, a dagger was pulled from a belt of one of his soldiers and was dropped at Robert's feet. "Your life for theirs. If you kill yourself I will let them go, I will guarantee them safe passage to the nearest city under your control." A pike was placed to the back of the one of the soldiers, the tip glowing a fierce fiery red, ready to send off another one of their blasts like they had before.

How did it all go wrong? He must have done something wrong. But... but thinking about such things was pointless now it was what it was. He reached down to take the dagger, lifting it up like a sacred item, he reached up with a hand taking his helmet off. Blood trickled down the side of his face from his eye socket. Robert looked up at the lord, his red eyes held nothing but indomitable will, fierce anger, but deep in them, he thought he saw something else... something not so dark. A light at the end of the dark tunnel you could say. "What guarantee do I have of that?" Silva almost seemed insulted, he brought a fist to his chest, smashing it with a loud thump. Like a gorilla trying to intimidate someone. "I am a lord, if my word could not be trusted I could not rule." He looked back down at the dagger again, Silva was of course right. No dishonest lord could rule for as long as he had. If Silva had ruled Ruatha for as long as the rumors told, or even half as long, he would have been overthrown long ago. 25 soldiers, 25 for his own life. Rationally speaking it was the correct thing to do. And if his death meant the survival of his troops, what was left of them at least, he could go for that. He brought the dagger up to his throat, pressing its sharp edge against his throat. He heard a crunching sound, the tearing of metal, his eyes had looked to the side where he saw one of the Satorins. One of the last ones to survive. Its massive mouth ripping into the bodies of the dead, cooking blood and flesh in its maw. He closed his eyes, that wasn't a very pretty last sight. He drew the blade right across his throat, cutting his jugular, gasping for air as blood filled his lungs.

He fell down gripping at his throat, but it didn't matter, he felt a shadow loom over him. It was Silva again. Staring down at him, with his eyes, those burning eyes. Looking down at him the entire time, as his vision slowly faded to black. One of his last thoughts was... why did he look so sorry?

Silva watched as the light left the warrior's eyes. A painful death, not befitting of him, but necessary. He looked up at the ramshackle firing line he had made. A sub vocalization left his throat, ordering them to move off, supplies for their trip, and a small detachment, to guide them on their way. He had given his word to a fellow warrior, he would see it through. He knelt down taking the knife from the dead man's hands. After the soldiers had left he let out a sigh of relief. The fire burned around them still, he wouldn't put them out, but he would lay that man to rest. He took a shovel from the wreckage of the battle, and stuck it into the ground to start digging a hole into it. His leg bled but he didn't mind it too much. It was a good strike after all. He wouldn't squander the last little bits of that man's life in such a way. His soldiers piled up the dead, stripping the armor from his own fallen, but leaving them for the Satorins to devour. Meat for the war machine one could say. They managed to salvage some of the carts at least. Good enough to keep on their way to his destination. The front line, an army marching right to their capital city. He had wondered why they had intercepted him. It would have been much smarter to save that platoon for such a thing. 6 feet deep, he turned around, and put the warrior's helmet back on, gently lowering him into the grave, placing his sword on his chest, and wrapping his hands across it. Robert was worthy of Ruatha, shame he had to die. He got out of the grave and began to fill it. The massive warrior of his honor guard approached from behind, his personal body guard Shalves. He was quite large. Even bigger than Silva himself. He grumbled out some sub vocalization and Silva snorted in return. "Ruatha is a land built upon conquest and survival, doing what you believe is right and having the strength to do so. You don't have to be born to Ruatha, to be Ruathan. He wasn't strong like me and you, but he was strong in his own. Worthy of the name Ruatha." More sub vocalizations Silva snorted again at the response. "I am a lord, not a monster." Silva finished burying the man, and stood up. Holding out his hand. A dark energy coalesced within the palm of his hand and went out into the grave. Traveling like chains and barbwire through the earth, wrapping him in a cage of metal. No animal would unearth him, and he hoped that it would stop a grave robber. The energy shifted slightly. Making a tomb stone of solid iron above, an unnatural black, but of course it was. Silva turned his back and walked to Shalves, putting a hand on his shoulder, looking up into his eyes. "The weak perish, the strong survive, but sometimes the strong die for the weak. Let us go Shalves. I have a country to conquer. And with those soldiers sent ahead they will see our barbarity. They will think of monsters in the form of flesh. That I made a man commit suicide for my own enjoyment. They will spread tales of all this happening, it will go through their armies, their kingdom, their royalty. They will buckle when I appear for they will think me a nightmare in the form of flesh. That is why he had to die."

Silva walked past him and into his personal carriage. The soldiers gathered up and they moved on with a steady march, leaving the burning forest behind them, and the first true warrior Silva had slain in this kingdom.

DAH SILBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH