Disclaimer: I don't own Warhammer.

We march, men of honor. Abandoning the front line, abandoning the lives before where we stand now. It was a gray evening, rain sprinkled down upon us. He strode down the hill, running toward the Chaos menace. Their spiked armor, bulked to the fullest, carrying the gigantic weapons. Some men's faces lost bravery and courage. A man yelled:

"For Sigmar!"

The rain made a tapping noise once every sprinkle touched my armor. The enemy was rushing at us, and we to them. Some men screamed, it was louder than the thunder. We ran inch by inch, getting closer to the enemies.

Almost there.

Our boots sunk into the mud with every passing step. The drive of the battle, the fire burning inside each and every man here. I was leading this charge, though I didn't feel like it. I gripped my hammer even tighter, I felt the book to my side thumb into my ribcage. My heart-beat was like a stampede.

I roared. Finally engaging the enemy in close combat. I swung upward, my hammer skidded the dirt, I directly hit a Chaos encumbered warrior in the face, his feet rose from the air, and he flew back knocking down some other of his men.

No time to think. Only action. I turned quickly, a full circle. Another clear cut hit. I lifted my weapon and pounded it down on the head of another.

I thrust it straight into ones chest cavity. Retracting it as fast as I could. And parrying a coming blade to my shoulder. I began a spell, and my body was fortified. I swung again knocking three more men through the air.

Men ran passed me, some instantly getting killed and others getting successful with their kills. Watching them die was hard, but I couldn't loose focus, not even for a moment. I killed another warrior and blood spattered on my face.

My first hit was received, I stepped back, and to make things worse I slipped through the slick mud. Arrows are still flying threw the air. My own men were piling up on me, their dead bodies stiff and cold.

Pushing them aside and scrambling to make my way to my feet. I was hit in the shoulder before even straightening my legs, it was a clean cut, blood leaked through the crack that was made.

A follow through of this cut, was punch to the face, if it wasn't able to get worse, an arrow pierced my chest. Everything seemed slower, except me. I cunningly swung at the opponents in front of me. Now I was like a barbarian, using no skill and rapidly swinging, mostly missing.

I picked up a flag nearby and continued forward. Almost all my men were dead, we had expected to be victorious, but did not expect this many soldiers to be on the defense. A spear rammed through my gut, and blood spilled from my mouth.

It lifted me into the air, and I let go. The color faded from my face and dullness consumed my eyes. I wiggled my way off of the pike and fell to the ground. A hole was in my chest. My fists clutched the banner and my hammer, I knew it was honorable.

Darkness, all I felt now was darkness.