Hey its IR here. This is the background of a character in a story im writing. Check the main story out, its Ballad of Blood, in fantasy. Tell me what you think. It has recently been edited so it wouldn't be so gruesome. *rewritten/censored material
“Your father told us to crush them under foot,” the dwarf said. Two dwarfs stood alone, in a huge stone hall. Torches hung on the granite columns holding up the colossal ceiling, and they emanated the only light as the two figures conversed.
“Then assemble two hundred troops,” the other dwarf, named Marcus began, as he paced back and forth and his face flickered in the torch light, “one hundred elites. We will grind their bones into powder!” he finally exclaimed. Marcus tugged lightly at his light brown beard in thought. Suddenly, his eyes hardened, and he motioned for the other dwarf to leave. The dwarf bowed, and kissed the ground at his feet. The scuffle of boots gradually diminished, leaving the dwarf all alone in the menacing hall.
Marcus wore blue robes, like the purest sapphire, and when the light caught on them, they seemed to glow. His face was less beautiful, like a rough stone that had yet to be smoothed by time. His eyes were dark brown, and bloodshot. His skin was pale and cold.
Slowly, he nodded to himself and drew an axe off his back. It reflected the light off its silver sheen, repelling it back and drawing shadows on the walls. His grip grew tighter on it, the blood leaving his hands as he walked after the other dwarf.
The green grass stretched far on the rolling hills. But even its beauty was shadowed by the icy capped mountains that encircled it. A dull shadow moved over the land, shaking the ground. Dwarfs, armed to the teeth, chanting war.
Marcus marched at the head of his army. Now ready for battle, he wore chain mail and held a huge round shield on his left arm. The boots of two hundreds full bread warriors beat the ground and it pounded the grass down into the dirt.
“Where is the goblin force, my lord,” a dwarf on the right of Marcus asked.
“Due north, an hour’s march,” Marcus replied.
“And how many are there, sir,” the dwarf asked.
“Who knows? You know my father, Forgus. He’s not a man of detail.” Marcus said and smiled at his companion. “But how is your wife?” Marcus asked his gaze focused on the Forgus’s grim face. “I imagine you will be a father when we return.”
“She was in labor when I kissed her goodbye,” Forgus replied, the pain clear in his eyes. Marcus returned his gaze ahead. Forgus, like Marcus was young. His eyes were still sparkled with life and he marched with a spring in his step.
“What about you?” Forgus asked, changing the subject, “When will you,” Forgus said, and faltered, trying to keep his composure, “Be a father?” Marcus looked at him and smiled.
“Oh I imagine very soon,” and they exchanged I knowingly look.
An hour later, they reached the peek of a large hill. Below them was a goblin outpost. It was palisaded in, and smoke rose in tendrils from it. It was clearly not fully inhabited as only a few goblins milled around. Usually, goblins would be streaming in and out like ants in an ant hill.
“What is this? They’re merely refugees!” Forgus exclaimed in anger. Marcus looked at him and felt his pain.
“My father did not say. He said there was an army, not a refugee camp!” Marcus said with Forgus’s same anger. A tear was dripping down Forgus’s cheek, and onto his beard.
“We could wipe them out with a quarter of this force! I could be back,” Forgus said as more tears dripped down his face. Marcus bowed his head.
“I’m so sorry,” Marcus said.
“No! It’s your father, that blood thirsty tyrant, sending us out to slaughter helpless refugees when I could be home with my wife!” Forgus said, and grew angrier.
“I didn’t know,” Marcus said. “But do we let them live, and allow them to destroy our land?” Forgus looked sternly,
“No, let’s wipe them out!” Forgus said deeply. Marcus motioned to his troops. They stood still and listened. He just looked at them and bellowed out his war cry.
The army seeped down the hill like a deadly poison. With moments they reached the goblin camp and the battle began.
Forgus’s eyes glowed with pleasure as his axe severed the head of a goblin. Dark blood sprayed out and it fell to the ground dead.
“Marcus, behind you!” Forgus screamed as a goblin raised its saber behind Marcus. Marcus wheeled around cleaving the goblin in half and pounding the top half into the dirt.
“I owe you,” he said quickly before engaging with another goblin. Soon the forces breached through the walls. Inside, goblins waited, with red eyes wide with fear. A few unlucky goblins were crushed under foot and the other closer ones were silenced before they could scream.
Marcus fought along side with Forgus, and they smashed their way through the battle toward a huge structure in the center of the camp. It was a huge hut built out of sticks and mud; it loomed over the rest of the village with its size. Forgus trailed behind Marcus, still enjoying the bloodshed.
“This ends here,” Marcus said back to him, and they stopped at the front of the building. A female goblin appeared at the door of the hut. She screamed in a high pitched voice and disappeared inside. They exchanged a look of confusion.
“It could be a trap,” Forgus warned. Marcus froze in the middle of his step.
“Follow me in,” Marcus said emotionless, and entered. They entered, and Marcus heard a grunt. In the corner of his eye, Marcus saw something shimmer towards them. With a thud,Forgus's body slumped face forward onto the ground. Marcus looked at him with shock. A metal tip of a knife protruded from his back.
[color=#0000BF]Marcus screamed and whirled to face opponent. Tears dripped down his face. The female goblin stood at the far end of the room.The room was empty of furnishing except bones that were scattered in piles on the ground. The goblin's children encircled her seething angrily. They looked at him, one of them holding an identical knife.
Marcus roared again, and charged them. He reached them, and his axe flashed around him. Marcus's eyes were wide, and blank. Muscles bulged under his armor and sweat trickled down his face. The goblins fell, one by one, to Marcus's axe. Tears rolled down his face.
Finally he faced the female goblin. She scuttled back into the corner, whimpering. He strode over to her.
“Don’t even,” he said, and began to raise his axe.
“Please, don’t,” she whimpered. He faltered, lowering his axe.
"Why'd you kill him?" Marcus asked, tears streaming down his face and soaking his beard. He raised his axe again. "I'm sorry."
What'd you think. I censored out the violence because it was too gruesome. Sorry if you liked it. It still gets the point across, but i tried to get it to be as non-gory as possible.
