"Sometimes life tests just how far it can bend us before we break."
Events in this story took place during "A Field Daubed in Red".
"We have come far, and I know we've been through the void and back, abandoned when we needed help the most, however we cannot afford to fall here, if we do everything we have fought for was pointless, all those who fell were in vain, so get out there and show those Elves the same mercy they've shown us, that is to say.. Show. No. Mercy." The speech sounded good enough, a speech that would have rallied the spirits and hearts of any normal group of men, these however, were not a normal group of men.
The Bloodcast finished up his speech and turned his back to the group, closing his eyes as he listened to the ensuing murmurings from the group.
"Suicide, we can't possibly win."
"A battle already lost…"
"We're doomed."
Alexander sighed softly, he wanted to turn and rally their spirits, desperately wishing to inspire them that they would all make it through this battle, and make it home… Something he wanted to believe himself, though couldn't.
The campaign in the Moors had been much less than successful, every single person in the army was beaten, battered, tired, and wanted nothing more than to rest, though as the final battle came ever closer everyone soon realized that this was going to be the hardest fight yet. Alexander could feel the toll the past battles had had on his body, and his spirits, seeing so many of his men fall, he knew that he didn't have much left to give, though that didn't stop him from strapping on his shield, if he was going to go down, he was sure to go down fighting.
The final conflict started worse than anyone could have expected, an army outnumbered three to one can only do so well after all. After several minutes of fighting Alexander was locked in a clash with a Nelfin using a similar fighting style to his own, though fatigue quickly took over the Ailorian Bloodcast, and that's when he felt it, as if his entire body was about to fail on him, after many restless days and crushing defeats he had finally reached his limit…
Then, something different washed over him, he remembered the people of Regalia, and the friends he had left behind, he remembered the men who had fallen so far, and the rest of his comrades still fighting onwards, and the Regalian remembered his Fiance', currently out amidst the fray with him against these impossible odds, and that's when he knew- he couldn't fall here. Feeling his body fill with adrenaline, he grit his teeth as he managed to break through the defenses of the Nelfin he was fighting and ran him through with his blade.
He turned back to his men, seeing them to be in the same as he was- on their last leg. He knew that he would have to do something, but he decided that actions would speak a lot louder than words. With a loud war cry, Alexander charged towards a group, slashing and bashing his way through a few, coating his armor in their thick, deep red blood. It was at the sight of this that Alexander's men seemed to find newfound energy of their own, each letting out a cry or exclamation of their own as they began a merciless attack.
Blades, axes. maces and the occasional shield punch tore through the Elven menace, a brutal and effective all-out attack that was both beautiful and terrifying to watch, and even more so to be a part of. It was as if the men of Alexander's troop had been fresh to the field, causing confusion and uproar as they diced and sliced there way through countless Elves, until finally, after what felt like an eternity, they managed to make it to the ships, and finally leave the hell-hole, known as the Elven Moors.
Finally, after there impressive display on the field, and their successful retreat the Bloodcast's men stood upon a ship, heading back for Regalia, with only roughly ¼ missing of there original numbers. As the men sailed away from the lands which laid claim to many of there allies lives they had one thought, this isn't over.
Alexander stood upon the deck of a ship, he gazed over his men before removing the helm of his armor and dropping it to the ground, collapsing into a nearby bench, exhausted and drained. He glanced down to his armor, stained a crimson red like the cape upon his back, he sighed deeply as he began muttering to himself.
"<Daen> Abandoned, left to fend for ourselves and we paid the price, and a void of a price it was to pay…" Before turning his attention to the ever-shrinking Moors on the horizon, and finally muttering. "<Elven> Next time, you won't be so lucky."
