The Lion and the Beast

Hector turned to Ozzie, a look of discomfort on his face, "The Lion of Yiril is a general of Yiril's forces. Recently he has done expeditions into the home of these monsters called Ruiners. It sounds splendid, if it wasn't for the fact more men come home dead or crippled. Ruiners aren't like Orcs or Trolls, they are magical beings, even to where the feared Lothric's Death Watch has difficulty containing them in their wasteland of a home."

He turned back to the mage, "However, it isn't a war, our land is in peace, or the closest form of peace. The ruler of the Ruiners, called Jakvar Val hasn't declared war on us, meaning he haven't done enough to be seen worthy to go to war with. The last nation they went to war with was Lothric during its prime, and that was when many other nations went to war with it. We should be glad the Ruiners haven't gone to war, if they wanted to, they could leave a path of destruction and death, the Lion of Yiril is only attacking the raiders that used to come from the borders and attack isolated settlements."

Hector looked at the soldiers, "Both people of Yiril and Achaea see it as a pointless battle. Why should we battle a horde of monsters when they are too busy fighting among themselves?" He looked back at Ozzie, "What do you think of the battle?"

West of Achaea, East Deadlands, Union of Ruiners

Marcus twirled his blade, a cocky grin on his face, "Come on then beast, face me in combat!"
The large humanoid creature in thick plated armor snarled, "Fool, do you desire death so much!? Then you shall have it." It pulled two wicked looking hand axes from it's sides and charged at the man.

With a side step, Marcus plunged his blade in the small opening between its helm and its armored body, deep maroon liquid coated his blade as he twisted the blade down. The humanoid beast answered his attack with a slam to his side, forcing the man back.

It stood straight, pulling the blade out of it's neck, "Such fighting spirit, shame you are beneath my foot!" It pounced at him, axes ready. Marcus snatched his dagger from his belt, and shoved the creature to the ground, stabbing it in the hand. It roared, and attempted to pull the dagger out of the ground, Marcus picked up the hand axe it dropped and raised it above its head, "Die beast." He sliced down, taking the beast's head, finally slaying it.

He glanced around him, five hundred men were brought her, only three hundred were still stand, two hundred were either dead or wounded beyond repair. That was how much damage fifty of these monsters could do.

He approached on of his men down on the ground, covered in deep maroon blood of the ruiner that fell ontop of him, he put his hand out and pulled him up, "The battle is not over yet soldier. We still have more monsters to slay." The soldier got up to his feet, shaking. Marcus turned to face the dark smoggy sky of the deadlands, "We have to prove these monsters our might, for Yiril and our sister nation!"

The tired men cheered loudly, however their cheers were only half as powerful as they were when they began the battle, their thoughts all the same, "when will it be enough?"

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