The Sword of Iris

Prologue

Warning- Long prologue, Violence, Blood

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BLOODY FISTS FLEW, knives stabbed and swiped, swords swung, fangs and claws drew out, and magic entwined the whole thing.

In the field of blood, gore and death, two sides of the merciless war fought tooth and nail against the other. There was no surrendering, the two sides could never live in peace with another. This was the last battle in this ever lasting war, to finally proclaim the winner. After the hundreds of years of tension and innocent deaths, they finally battle it out to prove, once and for all, who will continue on.

There was no winner in this war. Many lives had been lost, many hard sacrifices has been made, many devastating tragedies have happened, and everyone has broke inside themselves because of the madness this war have brought. There was no winner because each side lost so much to this war.

But only one side could survive.

General Corgin Louis swung down his powerful enchanted sword down onto the man, slicing his head clean off. Blood squirted onto the man, but he didn't even flinch. So many years of his life has been leading to this moment. Years and years of fighting has brought him to this moment. Was it worth it? He didn't know. He has lost everything to them, his family, his wife and daughter. All he had left was his King, position, duty, and the desire for this to just be over with.

Too much has been lost to this. He just wanted this to be done, that all the innocent deaths could stop, that all the horrible things to stop, that all the fighting could end, and to finally be able to mourn the lost of his family.

A beam of wispy green light was aimed at him. He was barely able to block with his sword and hit his own offense move to kill off his attacker. A warlock. Gritting his teeth, Corgin realized that he was hit. His side hurting painfully and he could feel the magic seeping into his skin and burning it all away.

"General! Are you hurt?" A concerned, stressed voice called out over the noise of the battle. Glancing to his left, he saw that it was his right hand man, Jon Joseph. He was struggling against three men who ganged up on him.

Corgin pushed his pain away and went over to help Jon Joseph. They fought side by side with ruthless grace and experience, killing many enemies that approached them. A wolf, the height of a small horse and was thick with muscle and fur, jumped out at them. Corgin stepped forward to the wolf and using his magic in his veins, lightened his sword with power to be able to split the wolf in half with one swing.

Panting, Corgin leaned on his knees and glanced at the gory mess of blood and guts of what was left of the werewolf. Jon Joseph looked worried on his General. He could tell that Corgin was tired and losing energy fast with the rate he was going in this battle.

"Corgin.. its in your best interests to take a breather," Jon Joseph said.

Corgin tilted his head to Jon, scanning his face before sighing and letting out a reluctant nod. Jon Joseph gave a relief breath.

"General," Jon started, looking on to the field filled with death and blood, "are we... winning?"

Jon Joseph was young, he wasn't here for the beginning of it all. He didn't know a lot of the sacrifices made in this war. He didn't know what had to be given in hope of winning. He didn't have the experience Corgin had. He hasn't see the devastation left behind.

"There is no winning here, Joseph," Corgin grimly said, his eyes distant in the horrible memories.

The abandoned families and villages, left to die by hunger, the cold, injure and infections. The broken look of soldiers coming home, the terror filled faced when the army attacked ruthlessly at them. How so much resources were given, so many hard men and women working till they bleed so that the soldiers could have good weapons. The torture innocent people and soldiers went through.