Ogre Captain Casht again

Fool that I was, I lead these warriors to this ruinous end. Impulse and emotion drove me to here. Wisdom I had abandoned long ago.

I supposed, then, that Methalain had taught me well. Surely I had followed his lead.

Narnia's kings and queens before us and behind us, yet we could not reach a one of them. The Narnian creatures harried us from all sides and above and the lesser king on his horned beast was ripping through my loose formation as easily as a bird cuts through the air. His battle cry rang painfully in my ears and I detested the name of Narnia and all it stood for.

It stood for doom.

For a moment we swarmed over them, fighting thick and fast. Our size and numbers, our only real tactic in battle, worked in our favor long enough to dupe me into believing I had a chance. I leaped over the circle of deadly spears to be faced by a Centaur so unyielding and fierce I thought him capable of dealing with Methalain himself. He held two swords, one dark, one silver, and he stood over the prone figures of the High King and what must have been a queen. Three Ogres, all of them well known to me, lay dead on the ground around him. If ones such as he served Narnia's kings, it was no wonder that Methalain had fallen. I knew instantly that moving a mountain would be easier than dislodging him, and luck would have no bearing on the outcome of our duel.

Fool that I am, I attacked his with his king's own sword and he matched it with a blade that looked to be its twin. I no longer cared for anything, least of all my life for I had thrown it away long ago. I counted myself a skilled warrior among my people, but this Centaur so outclassed me as to bring me to shame. These Narnians, with their faith and their unity spelt ruin for the whole of my nation.

I couldn't even claim that I let him kill me in some glorious forlorn hope. I tried to fight and I failed.

And so this unnatural creature slew me without ever knowing what I was.

A fool.