Mangled dead bodies of soldiers cluttered over the battered battlefield, contorted and smashed beyond human recognition. Split skulls, torn limbs and broken swords decorated the ground as grisly garden ornaments. The soldier's bright blue and green uniforms(already a grotesque fashion offence) barely visible underneath their own gore and spilt innards. What once had been a prospering forest is now a jagged menacing obstacle course of busted tree trunks and angry wooden splinters - the result from the sprawl of conflict that occurred here. If there was ever a definition of a massacre, a picture of this scene would be pasted right next to it.
Amidst the slaughter and carnage was one lone little girl about the age of ten, dressed in a petite sky blue dress, complimented by a violet hood that drew across her hair. On her back she carried a backpack she was meant to be couriering to her brother. Her clothes were a stark contrast that competed against the grim landscape that suffocated her relevance.
Sophie ran down what had once been a lane through the woods twenty minutes ago. Her tiny hands half closing her eyes; her mind focused on the soft pitter-pater of her feet so that she could keep the horrors of the battlefield out of her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a slight movement among the shattered terrain.
Against all odds, one of the soldiers in that blasphemous uniform had survived the battle. His lower torso had been pulverised and he had been dragging his upper body along with one hand - his other was a bloody stump. Sophie shrieked in terror as the survivor clawed at her with his remaining arm. 'End me...' He rasped barely audibly as blood spurted out from his mouth.
Sophie met his unnerving gaze for a second. It was like looking at a man without a purpose, his soul had died even though his body still lived on. Even worse, she was looking at madness in itself. Pure, distilled and unadulterated insanity. Whatever it was that this man experienced had been enough to break both mind and body.
Sophie covered her mouth to prevent herself from screaming. It was too much for a ten year old girl like her to handle, so she took off down the lane. Sophie was running faster than she had ever ran before, running away from this hellish landscape, running away from all it had to offer.
It was hard to believe that just yesterday she had been playing in this forest and now it was decimated. How could this even happen? Life around her village had been uneventfully quiet for as long as she could remember.
Everything probably stemmed from that morning itself. The day started out like any other with Sophie watering the daisies in the garden. It was then that she heard the cluttering of heavy armour as a band of warriors walked down the street. Having soldiers over at the village was fairly common, they always came at the end of each season to collect taxes and as long as the villagers pay up their due they would cause no trouble. But these were not common soldiers, Sophie could see as they walked to the front gate of her house.
They were knights.
There were four of them and each were heavily clad head to toe in massive gilded armour, highly decorated by runic engravings and magical sigils. A long shadow of a cloak flowed fluidly behind them as they walk, waving in the zephyr. On their sides they carried swords, prideful and larger than life, Sophie observed. One of them was so gargantuan he had to sling it over his shoulder. Although functionally identical, all of their armour took on a unique appearance of their own and had a slight distinguishable colour hue. One of them even appeared to be fashioned after a dragon. Sophie couldn't help but gawk at how impressive they look compared to the regular tax-collecting soldiers.
The shortest of them stood at the vanguard and was undisputedly their elected leader, exuberating confidence and absolute authority. 'Well, are you going to let us in, Sophie?' The knight's leader asked Sophie in a feminine voice.
