A flash of gold, glimmering on the horizon. My eyes flicker open as the sun creeps above the mountain range in the distance, flooding the valley with its early morning light. A stifled yawn escapes my lips as I rise from my bunk in the barracks. I begin to dress in my heavy armors, ensuring each layer is assembled in the correct fashion. At last, I secure my weapon, my faithful Honor Sword which seems to glow in my hands, with a deep red hilt of leather. |
The day has started like any other, and while I settle down for a well deserved breakfast of roast chicken and fresh hot rice, I hear a sound like thunder rumbling in the distance. The sound is growing louder, and the ground seems to shake, as a plume of dust rises along the nearby road. I rise up from my seat and quickly move into formation. My fellow soldiers flank out beside and behind me, and we form our familiar ranks as the unknown threat steadily approaches. These are my brothers in arm, and we will fight together, as one, and, if the Gods do not shine down on us, we will die together.
As we unsheath our weapons or grapple with heavy staves, our enemy becomes visible to us. A massive herd of angry sheep are approaching, with their wool billowing behind them and their horns glinting in the sunlight. Their fierce, wooly faces are filled with a fury that no man has ever known. These sheep are out for blood.
The Sentry and Defender sheep, amongst others, approach on two feet, taller than the rest, having risen through the ranks for their ferocity, their strength, and their evolutionary prowess. These are not the meek fighter sheep who are sacrificed for slaughter, giving up their wool and their meat for the consumption of humans. No, these are learned sheep, sheep who have come to fight man and avenge their hardships.
The flock swarms us, the ugly and flaming sheep attacking us soldiers indiscriminately. The wool is flying as they lunge at us, again and again. Our staves and swords find their marks time and time again, and still, the beasts keep charging us. A comrade beside me falls to his knees and as a fierce sheep rams him again and again, I heard a loud "CLUNK" and where once stood a tall, proud soldier, now an angelic ghost glows amongst a pile of belongings.
I call out at once, "SOLDIERS! WE MUST FIGHT! FIGHT TO AVENGE OUR FALLEN BROTHER!" And around me, as the cry goes up, there are more loud "CLUNKS" as more and more angelic ghosts emerge on the battlefield. As I crash through the flying wool, my feet get tangled up in piles of random objects -- and odd, glowing yellow and red objects seem to litter the fields around me.
Suddenly, I look up to find myself facing off with a Sheep Defender. His dark brown coat, seemingly made from the flesh of his brothers, is laced tight against his rippling chest muscles. He holds a sword in his hoof, and I raise my Honor Sword in my hand. Poised, we prepare to fight.
With a roar, I charge him, my blade held high, as I bury the sword deep into the flank of the Defender. As he buckles over in pain, I pivot behind him and shove my blade deep into his back. At once, he rears up, his anger lashing out in extraordinary ways, and a nearby soldier is suddenly hit with what appears to be lightning. Again, I raise my sword and plunge it down hard into the Defender's back. At once he goes still -- his spine has been severed, and his heart beats no more. As his blood dampens the ground around him, I rifle through his vest and remove his belongings -- several thousand coins, dozens of ambers, and a single, silver coin. My bounty acquired, I look around me, and find that the healers have arrived, and have risen my brothers from their potential graves. We humbly retreat to our barracks, where we lie down in gratefulness for surviving another attack of the fierce and vicious Mythic Sheep.