"We can't hold this position any longer!" A Sphinctor trooper shouts.
"I'll be damned if they shove us back once more."
"We defend this site at all costs!" The Captain of the Sphinctor vanguard roared out.
He bent over to pick up his shield and just narrowly avoided a stray projectile that glanced off the walls beside him. The unit had strategically positioned themselves along at the top of a narrow pass, with the walls opening up towards their camp. This gave the hill a funnel shape that allowed the Sphinctor troops a stretch to set up their weathered fortifications. It was night fall and the attack by the Horde had caught them by surprise, only through sheer force of will had the vanguard managed to push back the initial wave but not without casualties. Ten of his men had been killed in the initial foray, with twice the number injured but still combat-ready.
"Have the messengers left yet?"
"No, Sir. They've only just."
"What! They should have set off at the first sign of trouble, at this rate, reinforcements will only arrive at daybreak."
"Yes sir i'll make..."
"Save it. Here comes another party."
He turned to face the dark steep walls and from the center of the impenetrable darkness came the cry of a blood thirsty horde. Looking to the star-filled sky, he made peace with the Gods before hoisting his scimitar, clashing it against his shield. At that signal, troops on either side of the waist high trench he was in, rose up and copied his stance.
With a roar of their own, they swept out of their emplacements, swiping away the forerunners of the enemy army, some of which, to their misfortune, had split themselves on low-rising wooden stakes, angled towards the pass. The Captain strode bodily into the fray, which was thickening with each passing second.
He parried a weak thrust by a soldier that looked barely into manhood and returned his own, flicking his blade into his neck, not deep to severe but enough to ensure death. Raising his shield he took two blows from a duel-wielding mongrel before pushing back out and bashing his face in. From his side a warrior charged, narrowly missing his thigh. Dropping on one knee, the Captain pivoted as the warrior charged past, momentum from his missed attack carrying him forward and swung a backhand into the back of his adversary's legs, severing the torso.
Hardly waiting for the lifeless body to hit the ground, he was up on his feet again and striding forward.
Around him, the line held but further down he could see it stretching to its breaking point, his side unable to replace men as fast as they were being dealt swift deaths. If the line broke, the horde would overrun the flanks and destroy the vanguard in a pincer. Roaring, he swung his shield arm back and whipped it forward, watching as his circular shield spun out and decapitated several enemies. Clutching his scimitar with both hands he charged towards the breaking point. He jumped upon the back of one of the mongrels in his death throes and delivered a devastating downward slash, instantly splitting another warrior.
Almost immediately, fighting in the vicinity around him ceased, the warriors too stunned and intimidated to carry on with their orders. The Captain could see the enemy overseers whipping their men, to no avail. None wanted to take on the imposing titan, choosing to bargain their lives in the hands of their masters than with him.
The Captain bent over to pick up his shield, sheathing his scimitar.
"Rally the men, fall back to the trenches."
He strode back toward camp, not waiting to see if his orders were being followed. By the sounds of it, he could hear the enemy's own call for a temporary retreat echo out from the darkness of the pass.
He could wait. By the Gods, he would wait. They just needed to buy time till daybreak. If his position fell, he knew that the other outposts would hold as long as they could but with this horde, once they gained momentum, there would be no stopping their zealous warriors.
His homeland would be flooded. He could not bear to think of such devastation befalling his nation. They had barely recovered from the previous incursion, a second one would seal its fate and render it obsolete. He looked up, in the distance, the tell-tale glow on the horizon indicated a fast-arriving dawn. He smiled to himself.
In the immediate distance, he could hear the longer drones of enemy trumpets, signalling for a full-retreat.
They would live, for one more day.
~~~~~~~~
"TIMMY, DID YOU PEE PEE FROM YOUR WEE WEE LAST NIGHT?"
His mom's shrill voice wakes Little Timmy up. With a start, he sits upright in bed, wiping away sleep dirt that had crusted from the night. He flips his covers back and feels around his wee wee. It's dry. With a smile, he shouts back.
"NO MOMMA, THERE'S NO PEE PEE, I PROMISE!"
A hint of pride colors his little voice as he scrambles out of bed, already feeling the urge to relief himself, bladders throbbing against the walls of his pelvis.
"GOOD, I'D HATE TO THROW YOUR BLANKET AWAY, AGAIN! NOW COME DOWN, BREAKFAST IS READY!"
