Often at times I tell others that I wish to return home, to return to the colonies and see my family once again. I have lead them to believe that I had not set foot near my homeland since I had left those many years ago. But that is not the truth. I was there. I was there two years prior. I saw the horrors, the bloodshed, the death.
When you are young, you hear stories of the valor and honor it is to serve your Empire. The privilege and the rewards of fighting in war on behalf of the Emperor. But they do not prepare you for what you will see. They do not prepare you for what happens once you are there. The... things you will witness.
Curag Fields.
It was a discomforting action. Some of us were there for our loyalties to the Emperor, others were hired to fight for the Empire. The consistency between us was uncertainty. We knew not what would happen. I was a part of the central column. At this point I had become a master within my duel wielding skill, a skill that surely would have been of benefit had we been against a mundane opposition. Against a known opposition. Against a human opposition. There were others amongst me. Those of the Order who saw it fit to put their skill to the test. After years of battle and conflict, surely we would be deemed battle hardened. Surely we should have had the resolve and nerve to withstand whatever we would experience. Had it been normal. But it is the abnormal that they never tell you about war. For the wars of the Empire are of an abnormal nature. The wars of the Empire and anything but normal.
The fog began to approach. I sent my gaze to either side of my person. I saw what true fear means. Boys no older than the age of twenty, gripping their swords. I... cannot recall how it all occurred. I barely recollect what they looked like. I saw the fog roll around us. We couldn't see it all, only glimpses as we would strike out at shadows and shapes we could make out. I saw limbs removed. Large gashes cut deep across the chests of those around me. The internals of the men hung out of their bodies, gripping them as salted tears ran down their cheeks. The youngest members I saw frantic, laying in pools of dampened earth. Others were possessed by an animalistic instinct, laying swipes and cuts at random purely for the sake of survival. I saw the men cut each other down in the confusion. One of the men cut his brother's head clean from the torso, only to fall to his knees to grip the severed member, mucus falling from his nose as his voice could not be carried. We were not prepared then, we were not prepared for the fire. The torrents scorched our lines, I saw... men's bodies rupture and bubble, like stew that sat too long over the fire. Flesh fell from bone. I turned round to see a mans eyes puddle and weep as he clawed at his throat, the burning fog becoming impossible to breathe. The flashes of light around us, shining through the mist, displaying all the horrors in vivid detail. I could feel my heart beating rapidly. I had feared my own chest would rupture like those around me. My breath became heavy, my chest tight. I could feel stones laying upon me, crushing my very being as I could not get enough air. I choked and gagged, looking out helplessly as those around me made attempts to fight back those... things. It was intolerable, I couldn't breathe. I tore off my helmet as I dropped each of my swords, falling upon my hands and knees. In my infantile state I choked and gasped. Still, I could not breathe. And in that moment I began to weep. Thirty-eight years of age, upon my appendages, as I vomited and wept and sputtered and cried.
Behind blurred eyes I watched the horsemen. I wished to draw my gaze away, but I could not. I watch them rise and fall. Rise and fall. Rise and fall. The horses smashed against their riders. I watched bones splinter and tear through the flesh that contained them. One such rider I saw torn in half due to the repeated impact against the cold earth. I could not begin to say how long it happened. I watched the horses slam against the earth until the riders were nothing more than mangled lumps of meat. I vomited again and went dark.
I awoke after the conflict was concluded. My tabard soaked by the contents of my stomach. My eyes pained red by the tears that ran down them. I looked down to my swords. I hadn't caused a single hit. I hadn't done a thing. What I have to take from that moment was the memories of death. I was a witness to fear, to suffering. I saw war for what it truly is. And in that moment, I was a child. And I never wish to become a child again.
When you are young, you hear stories of the valor and honor it is to serve your Empire. The privilege and the rewards of fighting in war on behalf of the Emperor. But they do not prepare you for what you will see. They do not prepare you for what happens once you are there. The... things you will witness.
Curag Fields.
It was a discomforting action. Some of us were there for our loyalties to the Emperor, others were hired to fight for the Empire. The consistency between us was uncertainty. We knew not what would happen. I was a part of the central column. At this point I had become a master within my duel wielding skill, a skill that surely would have been of benefit had we been against a mundane opposition. Against a known opposition. Against a human opposition. There were others amongst me. Those of the Order who saw it fit to put their skill to the test. After years of battle and conflict, surely we would be deemed battle hardened. Surely we should have had the resolve and nerve to withstand whatever we would experience. Had it been normal. But it is the abnormal that they never tell you about war. For the wars of the Empire are of an abnormal nature. The wars of the Empire and anything but normal.
The fog began to approach. I sent my gaze to either side of my person. I saw what true fear means. Boys no older than the age of twenty, gripping their swords. I... cannot recall how it all occurred. I barely recollect what they looked like. I saw the fog roll around us. We couldn't see it all, only glimpses as we would strike out at shadows and shapes we could make out. I saw limbs removed. Large gashes cut deep across the chests of those around me. The internals of the men hung out of their bodies, gripping them as salted tears ran down their cheeks. The youngest members I saw frantic, laying in pools of dampened earth. Others were possessed by an animalistic instinct, laying swipes and cuts at random purely for the sake of survival. I saw the men cut each other down in the confusion. One of the men cut his brother's head clean from the torso, only to fall to his knees to grip the severed member, mucus falling from his nose as his voice could not be carried. We were not prepared then, we were not prepared for the fire. The torrents scorched our lines, I saw... men's bodies rupture and bubble, like stew that sat too long over the fire. Flesh fell from bone. I turned round to see a mans eyes puddle and weep as he clawed at his throat, the burning fog becoming impossible to breathe. The flashes of light around us, shining through the mist, displaying all the horrors in vivid detail. I could feel my heart beating rapidly. I had feared my own chest would rupture like those around me. My breath became heavy, my chest tight. I could feel stones laying upon me, crushing my very being as I could not get enough air. I choked and gagged, looking out helplessly as those around me made attempts to fight back those... things. It was intolerable, I couldn't breathe. I tore off my helmet as I dropped each of my swords, falling upon my hands and knees. In my infantile state I choked and gasped. Still, I could not breathe. And in that moment I began to weep. Thirty-eight years of age, upon my appendages, as I vomited and wept and sputtered and cried.
Behind blurred eyes I watched the horsemen. I wished to draw my gaze away, but I could not. I watch them rise and fall. Rise and fall. Rise and fall. The horses smashed against their riders. I watched bones splinter and tear through the flesh that contained them. One such rider I saw torn in half due to the repeated impact against the cold earth. I could not begin to say how long it happened. I watched the horses slam against the earth until the riders were nothing more than mangled lumps of meat. I vomited again and went dark.
I awoke after the conflict was concluded. My tabard soaked by the contents of my stomach. My eyes pained red by the tears that ran down them. I looked down to my swords. I hadn't caused a single hit. I hadn't done a thing. What I have to take from that moment was the memories of death. I was a witness to fear, to suffering. I saw war for what it truly is. And in that moment, I was a child. And I never wish to become a child again.
