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post #1 of 2 (permalink) Old 10-18-11, 03:30 PM Thread Starter
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Default Upon the field of battle the flowers grow.

Upon the field of battle the flowers grow.


Falling down I rise no more.
Upon this battlefield my life now fades.
I faltered here before my enemies and now before me the fires rage.
Terror as the burning tells the stories of the age.
Upon this battlefield I now die, truth reveled as the lie.
The flowers fade, the grass now withers.
How I wish I could redeem the time, maybe even atone for my crimes.
Eternity in a glimpse, a moment to relive!
I wish I could change my fate, live to love refuse the hate.
But upon this bloody ground I now lay, a spear through my chest, the world turning gray. So many things now come to mind, so many treasures I did not find. My past is stained and now I die ashamed.
I wish I could run the road again, I wish I could take it back. Now I see things anew, now I see but cannot be free. The grasp of death now holds my soul, pinned to the ground by an angry foe.
Into the sky I now look, in the distance I hear a rippling brook.
Take me now and forgive my sin, oh how I wish I could begin again.
Tears flow down my face; I wish I could now see her grace.
So long ago it now seems, but upon this ground I hear the screams.
Am I to be lost forever, will I be cast asunder?
I wish I could change the story. There is more to life than achieving glory.
Knowing now what I did not know then I know I will be doomed in the end.
They have come for me!

I heard them coming through the tall grass, their mighty warhorses at the fore. Death was with them and they would mead it out with open hostility. I hated them for what they had done. I could see the smoke in the distance and I was angry.

My battleaxe was in my hand and my shield upon my arm, my armor was on and fire was in my eyes. The armies of Chaos were drawing near. I could hear their venomous howls from feral mouths and I could hear their laughter as they drew near.

Sure they would rule the day they came bold and without delay. I stood upon a field of green, upon the lands of my fathers before me. I was not alone, I knew, their spirits were here giving me strength and courage.

The armies of Chaos rode on horses of red and black and fire flew from their wet and bloody nostrils. They were feral things, sweaty with exertion and smelled of blood and disease. Within their eyes death stared as black as night.

‘Come on and die!’ I bellowed. My breastplate glowed red and gold in the morning sun; my grieves bronze and black. I could see the riders now as they drove their death stallions on. Their armor seemed to suck in the morning light like black holes.

The armies of Chaos rode through the fields and I could see no end to them. I was alone, but not alone as I watched them come. My forefathers were with me in spirit and in truth I could feel their courage within me. My battleaxe felt light in my hand and fire swirled within.

My shield reflected the merciful sun and I used it to my advantage. Directing my shield the sun’s full strength was redirected back into the eyes of the oncoming horde and with a word the sunlight turned to fire.

The front ranks of the death dealers fell as their bodies were consumed and their blackened souls were reduced to ash, their armor melting from the intense heat. I could hear them still like the roar of the ocean. The ground shook under my feet and still they came.

Blood! My axe wanted blood and it would have it. ‘There is much for you to drink dear Hul’tok; much blood for your endless thirst!’ I said to my axe. With a word I swung my battleaxe and Hul’tok screamed as it tore into the first of many to die that day. My shield Restr’ok drank in the sea of blood that fountained from those torn asunder.

I marched through the bloody fields and cleaved the foe before me, my beard and hair matted with flesh and viscera. Hul’toc rejoiced in the taking of corrupted lives, in the sundering of the depraved. As a judge to the lands that bordered the chaos wastes I bellowed the teachings of Sigmar and refused to let them overtake me.

A sword glanced off of my helmet and another struck my shield, but still I fought. With a word I broke those who stood before me and laid waste to their accursed vows. Hul’toc refused to be filled or sated. Death was what it was forged to wield.

‘Come on and die!’ I screamed, spittle and blood pouring from my mouth. Fire poured from the mouth of the warlord’s horse and spilled over me, bathing me in corrupted flame. With a word it fell away and I struck out with Restr’ok and turned the sun’s rays into fire once again. The sun’s fire turned the warlord’s horse to ashen dust rendering its bones to powder in the blink of an eye.

In that very same moment I felt something I had not felt before. My limbs refused to respond to me any longer. Hul’toc fell from my hand and Restr’ok refused to defend. There before me stood the warlord in all his tainted glory. His eyes were as black as the grave and his teeth were bared in brutal hate.

‘Champion,’ he said, ‘this day you die.’ Looking down I saw the spear grafted into my chest. Falling to my knees I spoke one word. I smiled even as blood poured from my wounds and mouth as I watched the warlord writhe in unquenchable fire.

Upon this field the flower grows, upon this ground the hero’s blood now flows.
Death comes to us all, some will rise while others fall.
Life eternal is the goal, life immortal hears the call.
Broken and bloody I now lie, spear through my chest, I did my best.
Sigmar forgive me now, I could not kill them all.
The breath now leaves my body; my breath now leaves my flesh.
Upon the field of battle the flowers grow.





This is my first attempt at W.H. Fantasy. I hope you liked it.

A good reputation take a long time to build, but only a moment to destroy. Wow, that's deep! Check out the H.O.E.S. short story competition.
Other stories from Adrian.
Look up Adrian in the "Compendium" to find them. Thanks

Last edited by Adrian; 10-18-11 at 03:33 PM.
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post #2 of 2 (permalink) Old 10-22-11, 08:17 AM
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I felt really quite emotive at reading this <wipes back tears>...so descriptive and characterful.
Forget 'The X Factor'...you definitely have the 'awesome-factor'.
I have only one word for this: Stunning!

Urgently trying to trace any living relatives of Private Sam/Samuel "Jock" Wilson (Black Watch, No. 6 Commando, UK Army Service ID 2764432, died 10.06.44). Any info/suggestions gratefully received.

"Mockles! Pent on silpen tree, blockards three a-feening. Mockles! What silps came to thee, in thy pantry, dreaming?"

Please check out the HOES (Heresy Online Stories) threads and vote for the tales.
More feedback = better stories for everyone.
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