"Folge deinem Pfad, selbst wenn er mit Dornen bestückt ist. A lesson from my ancestors to me, words I believe in. Nobody will ever take that from me!" - Brendan Heinrich, 303AC, The Battle of The Curag Fields.
Screams echoed throughout the field about him, the mist covered everything around him and for once, he was afraid. The loneliness of war had befallen him, told to stand by his brothers, only a man so detached could refuse. Flames filled the air as mages clashed with what, in his mind were impossible beings. His eyes scowered the battlefield for any sign of help, though none came at his time of need.
With his blade drawn, such a large blade that even an orc would be brought up on the topic of 'compensating'. He brought it down, over his head and to the disgruntled figure on the ground a front him, with a horrendous scream as it's body was halved, the foe was swiftly executed with another swing which removed it's head. The mist only grew stronger and blocked out the daylight which was longed for, encroaching on him as soft croaks and disgusting squelching sounds followed it. He brought his blade into a defensive position, adopting a stance that would soon be switched to the offensive once more. Three fogmen dove from the shroud of mist, the huge blade within his hands swinging in a horizontal arch towards them and removing the heads of two of his enemies whilst digging into the chest of his third. He boldly planted his foot unto the unmarked side of the creature's chest and pushed, slamming the creature into the ground and withdrawing his blade as he brought it reeling upwards and slammed it down into the creature's head with a horrifying crunching and squelching sound once more. "Tha's for Regalia, ugly fock!" The man roared at it with a deep and powerful voice, spitting down blood unto the now deceased enemy.
He wiped at his balded scalp, only smearing blood down over his scarred features as he approached more and more enemies in his way, cutting them down with expert precision. All the whole, he let roar his beliefs of the Unionist Faith, reciting the sacraments to those foe that he quickly slayed. His path had led him this far and he soon came upon the true enemy in his wake, the mist did not cover these parts of the field and it was clear to him that he was staring at the supposed Statue of Estel.
The statue proclaimed itself as Estel, The Soul of The World and gazed upon the balding man with expressionless features. The man, surrounded by fogmen would nod at this proclamation and chuckled quietly to himself as he called out to it "And I am a God amongst men, fear me, the great Brendan Heinrich!" he mocked to the statue, then pausing to speak again.
"Follow yer own path, even if it's filled wit' thorns.. A less'un from m'ancestors ta' me, w'urds I believe in. Nobody will ever take that from me!" Upon his retort to the statue, it set forth it's fogmen. Seven enemies all attacking at once, he planted his sword in the ground afront him, along with a shield. The balding man knelt down and prayed to the Spirit from behind the shield, in sight of the statue and as the fogmen grew ever closer, he knew his fate was sealed. A sudden blast of heat flew past him and in utter shock of what had happened, he took up the overly large shield and sword, moving to look about himself. The fogmen were now turned to ash, piled about him in flames. The Statue slowly rose into the air and proclaimed itself once again to be Estel as the man was dragged away by this mage who had saved him.
Soon, after they had escaped the area, the mage strode forwards again before a large, black portal appeared upon the ground below them, the sight of a Qadir mage caught his eye as the Statue was sucked in along with the Qadir and the mage who had saved him. He scrambled for the mage's hand before the inevitable happened and the portal closed before him, his head fell as tears dropped from his face and he let out a roar at the loss of his savior. Slamming his fist into the dirt and digging at it for a good minute as soldiers came forwards in confusion as to what had went on.
Slowly but surely, a soldier came before Brendan, who was digging to save the mage and spoke kindness to him. "Brendan, it is over. We have won and that is all that matters now." The Heinrich then rose to his feet and walked past the soldier, shaking his head "No, this is no vict'ry fer me. Tha' mage saved m'life and I could'nt do th' same in return." He continued away from the battlefield "Fock yer vict'ry."
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