Battle armor


(Skyrim, Of Ice and Dragons)

She walked along the road, her armor plate displaying her allegiance to the empire. Ratty and battered, it needed replacement, but it would serve for now. To the north battle raged on. Even through the rain she could hear the screams of soldiers locked in mortal combat.

Now it wasn't a battlefield, it was a vortex of bloodshed. Sucking in the living, and spitting the dead back out. They had a mission, or well, the one who led them had a mission. They would follow. Even if it led them to Oblivions gates, they would follow Him.

He knelt, an Argonian tracker whom she had known before at his side. Before they took the oath to the company, he had been "runs-with-light-step". Now like her, just named "legionnaire".

Ambush, in her hands her bow sung its battle tune. Mer and men clash with violence of those born to battle. 7,8,9, kills counted off in her head, as she descended into her lust. They would have to restrain her soon, as they always did.

She comes back, her blade taken away, the lust fading. She is ashamed. Cheeks burning her fellow legionnaires give back her weapons, as they see the calm return to her. They are at a crossroads, the objective. Hand signals disperse them, and she sees the one next to their commander, she speaks. A challenge to them, a voice with scorn. All look to her with contempt, and begin their preparations. She and her friend, the former "light-step", are together, she hopes in her heart this is the last time. The last battle. Her bowstring is cut, no time left to rearm.

Out of the rain march those they have come to stop. The reinforcements. It is time for battle once again. "Are you ready my friend?" he replies as he always had, a light smile on his face as he test swings his blade, "We shall find out soon enough."

Battle once again, arrows sluice from the sky with the rain. She takes an arrow to the shoulder, her armor stopping the head before it cuts too deep. but the rage, the lust, does not come. Breaking off the shaft her shield arm is useless. Her friend shields them both as she wraps the wound. With a torn strip of her cloak. "this is not good." the words from him have her look around to see the enemy has far greater numbers then they had ever imagined.

The clash of soldiers, the ring of steel, her friend is getting distracted. She knows why, the lust is not coming, the rage. She swings and a Mer loses its head. She struggles to bring forth the battle rage, but it does not come. "Its not there." in a lull between assaults. Her friend smiles at her, "finally got a hold of yourself?" she shakes her head, "No, its just not there."

She is frightened for the first time in her life. Even when she had left the stronghold, she hadn't been frightened. He sees it in her eyes. "No my friend. Its there, you are in charge now."

But they come again, and again, and again. Most are down, many will not live even if they are rescued right now. Her blade is getting dull, her friend is tired like her, and she hears his voice, "I think today is our day." a nod, and the commander shouts into the rain.

"Legionnaires! Our true home awaits! I stand ready! Do you stand with me?!"

She and her friend shout their affirmation as one, and the commander as stoic as he always is, gives a small smile of thanks to them all, the enemy is readying. She places her bad arms hand upon the shoulder of her friend as he struggles to keep his feet. An arrow sticking from his leg. She holds him up as they prepare themselves.

With a battle cry as ancient as the empire itself, the commander shouts, and they echo.

"For the empire!"

For those around them, it was their finest hour.

For those who saw, they found their home.

And together the two friends marched their final path.

The rest of the legion assaults their position, she takes another arrow, this one is fatal she knows. Her friend takes others meant for her, and with a roar. She willingly takes the lust upon her. Her armor rings as arrows and steel find her. She strikes and brings her entourage with her. Malacath shall be pleased, she thinks. She hopes her friend makes his path as well. Darkness comes, and she knows its meaning.

She hears the horns of the legion, as she cuts down others.

She feels the ring of metal as her armor stops another arrow.

She hears a voice, rumbling…

As darkness descends upon her…

"I am Pleased with you. Come. It is your time. Warrior of my Children."