The war

The war…

He still didn’t say a word. Dried up tears upon his face, stern body language to cover up the pain yet the reality seeped through. An aberration of his former happy, joyous self. A youngster with fun in his heart with a kind soul.a smile that would warm the inside of the patrons of the villiage. Now You’d partake in the chill from a glance in his eyes. Determination, desperation, fear and a surviving instinct took him that allowed him to push past his point of the shock.

Blood dripping on the cracked ground from the small blade. The boys pulse still rapid. A muffled sound clearing up, he snapped out of it. He’d come to find the young girl he helped free shaking him. She spoke of a plan to sound off the war horn. Even though thir villiage was ambushed, they could still help the others. After hearing out her plan, he faced her with a necklace in his tight fist. It was a ring made out of the rare Mynthstone substance. A treasure his father had gifted him in their days of helming the black and ironsmith positions early in the village’s creation.

He took her hand still feeling how the shivering took his nerves. Placing the hooked ring within her palm, his head nodded in acknowledgement. Knowing the plan would give the other villiages time to muster up a defense when she blared the three horned warning even if she couldn’t manage to get there personally. He was assured as her astounding lungs would get the job done, she just needed uninterrupted time to get there.

With little to no knowledge of where his family was, praying they are still with a breathing beat in their chest that wasn’t sullied by the carving knife of the invaders. Although his father was the only one in the village at the time, his mother and brother departed. Realizing the girl has been his extended family the one thing left to do was help her execute her plan. With the cold mindset of nothing left to lose he managed to still give her a parting gift of a potential last hug. Soon after the boy pushed her. A stiffened arm to her shoulder in order to move her along. The battered and bruised boy mustered up the strength to climbed to the high rocks above with his bow and quiver strapped on his back. At a distance he saw the enemies had unfortunately rammed into the barracks that was sealed off and the fight was on. Her mission was set and so was his. A young boy and girl having to take on the task of warriors, for the sake of their families, homes and all they knew… perhaps the sake of their own lives.

CHARGE!!!!!!!!!!!!! With the bellowed war cry the fighting commenced as both sides ran spears and shields first into the hoards of enemies. One side fighting to conquer what they want, to make the villiage just another stone to step on, climbing the ladder onward. The other just fighting back to earn their lives. Both philosophies so different, yet the same. Both sides wanting to have victory and live another day. To kiss and hold Their loved ones near and dear once more, to inhale another day. What side would come out the battle with less lives lost. In the end does it even matter?

The battle raged on within the young boy’s heart and upon the battlefield. As blades slashed into flesh, spears piercing the very hearts of many men and women. The irony of being a cog in the destruction of a life while wanting to save lives. War is such a complex ideal, it can be created from lies, simple politics, greed or equality or oppression. Fighting for what you want doesn’t seem so simple now, to stop corrupt minds in power you have to fight… right? He couldn’t seem to wrap his head around what has happened.

It only forced his mind to question if he was a good person? A true good man. Was his father a good.. His father!!!!!! Where as his father he had to find him. There he was holding off the invaders. His heart fluttered with joy. He had to help. Steadying the arrow pulled out his quiver. A deep breath as he remembered the training in the barracks. He released.

A shot to the shoulder blade of the enemy. Staggered gives the edge to the friendlies as the enemy looks back, a spear to the front. The boy shoots off 3 more, the back of the knee an Achilles shot and one to the hip. All shot in vital areas. A man can’t stand, he can’t fight he thought.

in battle you were supposed to be focused, poised and meticulous to keep yourself of alive, keep your men alive. In other cases total knee jerk instincts take over as the fear of death might keep a person on their toes or render a man completely frozen. He wasn’t thinking of strategies nor frozen with fear like he hours before. He was simply complex in the thoughts of morality. He’d been trying to comprehend if he was what he said he was, if life was as it seemed as men were slaughtered and he was a had to play in it.

Who was truly right? Can you fault a man for fighting to keep himself alive, to keep his family alive? Yet he takes another’s life in order to combat the danger. To become a hero to some and a monster to others.. is it really worth it?