jensen-in-disguise-of-indi!note: teehee, i'm indi d'ohoho. enjoy my prelude!
The troops moved with an almost eerie silence despite the armor they wore. They were uniformed each one in step, even spread out amongst the trees. A twig snapped here, a bit of a rustle there. The men had marched miles, left families and comfort, to be here. They came to stand among the trees, watching waiting. The troops had marched tirelessly, many had been eager before, to expand their lands. The troops had been excited to bring back riches to those loved ones they left. Others had been ready to get rid of this scourge. Still they were subdued now. The final goal within sight, just a bit farther and the attack would begin.
One though stood out amongst the troops, a silver haired youth. Unlike the rest of the men, who's faces showed a grimness for what was about to happen, he grinned. He stood stalk still like the rest of them, moved with them, but unlike the rest of them only became more excited as they got closer to their destination. He wasn't there for the riches. The youth didn't care about what species they were attacking. This was a fight, another battle for him to prove himself. Again.
Red eyes scanned the men moving before him as the troops continued to spread out. A hand itched to grab the loosened sword. Not yet… just a little longer, he would be allowed to strike. The eyes narrowed as the sly grin grew. Those eyes were what made the men uneasy around him, the color of blood. They reminded every soldier of the battle field, which had never bothered the youth. He was made to fight, loved to fight, and knew he'd probably die fighting.
The only other thing that made the men uneasy around him was his status. As a knight his title demanded that they respect him, listen. But his attitude… oh the attitude… each and every man who stayed around the youth off the battle field quickly grew tired of the superior attitude. Enlisted men agreed with it in hopes to increase their status. Generals and other knights though were eager to send him back to fighting, anything to get him to shut up. Because once war, a battle, any sort of challenge of that sort was placed before the loud youth the obnoxious boasting stopped. A serious look came to the red eyes, and he proved why the bragging was justified.
For only 19 years of age, the Knight was impressive. Fighting was what he ate, drank and breathed. He knew strategy, tactics, and any weapon he could pick up.
"There it is," he breathed, stopping next to a tree looking down at their target below. A leather gloved hand rested against the tree. He shifted the chainmail heavy after wearing it for so long. Over the mail he wore a typical knight's tunic, his family crest proudly worn over his heart. A shield hung on his other arm also displaying the same eagle, a black bird wings spread.
Not one to dawdle during the few precious minutes before battle the night pushed forward. Arrows would be shot soon, signaling the charge. He saw archers notching their bolts in the small crossbows. Others cast spells increasing strength, readying to throw their first strikes. At the edge of the trees the silverette stopped. Balls of fire dotted through the trees now. Sword, your sword! The Knight's mind screamed.
The sword found its way to his hand.
The young knight laughed as the first fireballs were thrown, mounting on each other causing a strike for others to be afraid of. They were here! With a shout, he joined the others streaming towards the castle as more fire lit up the sky above them, striking stone, wood.