A story representation of the climactic battle in Castle Nox.
In Castle Nox…
A Daein soldier runs through the courtyard, armor flashing in the afternoon sky. Panic creased the young warrior's face, and fear overtook his actions. His movements were erratic, and a wound bled profusely on his forehead, leaving drips of blood on the snowy ground beneath his armored boots.
"They're coming! The outer gate has been breached! The apostle's army is storming the castle!"
A wave of apprehension seized the remaining soldiers inside the court. Warriors gripped their weapons tightly, leather gloves stretched forcefully apart by able hands, as their helmets concealed, underneath a facade absent of emotion, the nervousness and anxiety that grasped their minds that very moment.
Sothe, green hair flickering, scowled, his handsome face constricting in a fearsome grimace.
"Here they come," was all the rogue was able to say, as he himself vanquished his trepidation by twirling a dagger, its bronze and crimson blade expertly swinging in a perfect arc.
Beside him, Lady Micaiah, the commander of the Daein forces, whispers to herself silently, words of wisdom that struggled to face the encroaching fear and panic that seized her own forces.
Her hands, gripping a heavy tome, so full of mysteries and infinite knowledge, shook, quivering, but Micaiah braced herself against this terror. She willed herself to stop the trembling hands, shivering body and the blank frightened mind, and show a feigned confidence she didn't feel.
"It all ends here…" she heard a voice proclaim. It took a heartbeat for her to recognize her own voice echoing, bouncing off the stone walls and boosting what little confidence her own soldiers had left.
Sothe, turning, looked deep into her eyes, his own golden orbs entwining and capturing the her gaze. He caressed the silver locks that trailed down her own head, and, without saying it, Micaiah sensed Sothe's unsaid words, and nodded, blushing.
I will always protect you… Sothe's eyes seemed to say. The rogue's love boasted the immeasurable protection he wanted to offer her, and his anger at himself for his inability to safeguard her.
Micaiah blushed again, her cheeks turning red, as, just for a second, time seemed to stop into that perfect moment of love and protection, where war, death, sickness, strife, were nothing but fitful thoughts of a world forgotten.
The sound of the gates, groaning on their hinges, dispelled her of all her dreams, and made her focus on the world ahead. Repressing her innermost feelings, she turned and faced the inner gates leading to the courtyard.
Already, the sound of howls and roars and snarls and screeches were heard, the quiet, yet ever-present shuffle of feet outside, the scratching and the clawing at the wooden oak clear and reverberating of the crenulated walls.
Somehow, Micaiah's resolve held the men in place, and even as the wolves, the hawks and the beasts penetrated into the castle grounds, they were all determined to die, standing, with piles of dead bodies for burial mounds.