So I may die a good death, or what you consider a better death, I may even survive since I came all the way down It is not out of sight for me to survive.
There are chances within the choice of leaving, promises of living in a good way, or a bad one for that matter.
But if I were to fail this hunting this task that belongs to me, and only me. Then the regrets could haunt me like ghosts, perhaps even the spirits of the noble men laying around could come to torment my everyday; because a liar cannot be forgiven.
If that whole village of mine were to dissapear, my name would be forgotten and I would become one of them, even if my corpse does not lays among them.
This is why I am to stay, and I am going to hurt you bad, because if this is my end, It will be the end of my choice! For it is me the one walking my steps, not you, it will never be you and I will never fall back even if such means to fall just like that.
Then the steel sounds, and the fire wips, the Shield gets shattered; the memories broken at the same time, the steel cuts trough fire, and the fire hurts the skin.
The green armor feels the pain, but not the bearer.
There is little light, one can only see shadows, as the colossus fights the mortal.
Who can be the hero in such situation, if the battle itself is a mere facade.
The wolves keep attacking the village far away from that place.
And Immerick the archer, old as the oaks of Numbrag kills them swiftly.
And Eleanor his grandnephew stands at his side with a wooden spear.
There are so many different battles, each and everyone important.
All of them a spell of victory that may never come.
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