text: [Themes: grimdark fantasy, fantasy]
  
  Year 378 of the Second Era
  
  You're no griffin knight. You can't contend with wyverns on an equal level, and firing a few arrows won't make any difference in the fight on the ground. No, if you're going to win this fight, then you need to go right into the thick of it. If you can manage to help division stay alive for even five minutes longer, then the chances of the griffin knights helping out are significantly higher.
  
  You still have your sword strapped to your waist, and you don't usually carry a shield on you for guard duty, so you pick one up from the dead and strap it to your back. Following this you jog to the closest tower and go down the stairwell. Inside the tower it is eerily quiet compared to the roars and clangs of battle outside, and the sound of your steel boots hitting the stone stairs reverberates throughout. Moments later, you come to the bottom of the stairs. A large iron gate-like door greets you. It is quite the durable piece, and nothing less than a battering ram would be able to break through it. Or perhaps a wyvern flying at breakneck speed... You push that foreboding thought from your head and walk through the iron doors.
  
  What greets you outside is a scene of bloodshed and death. Division one has been pushed back nearly all the way to the walls, but their line still holds. Currently the division is organized in a semi-circle formation with the flat of the circle pressed against the wall. Everywhere else is a place for fighting, and nearly every soldier fights for their lives. There is one soldier, however, that does not fight, You see him sitting against the wall with the shaft of a crude arrow of kobold make protruding from his stomach. It's Byron, and it looks like he's lost a lot of blood.
  
  Almost instinctively, you approach him. As you near, a spurt of blood comes out of his mouth and splatter against your chest-piece. "Lieutenant Byron?" You ask this fairly loudly, but he doesn't respond, so you repeat it. "Lieutenant Byron?"
  
  This time he turns his pain and regret filled eyes toward you. He focuses on you and reaches his arm up and grips your forearm in his. A sign of comradery and trust. "I know not who you are, nor from where you came, but I need you now soldier. We are losing. My men die at every turn, and the kobold do not let up. Even still, there is hope. If we can keep the line, then they," he looks up to the sky, "will save us."
  
  He coughs up some more blood, but his grip on your arm stays strong. "Your name escapes me soldier, and I feel bad for laying this burden upon you, but someone must keep these soldier together. Will you do this for me brother? See to it that some of these men survive this battle."
  
  With this last request his grip loosens and falls limp at his side. His breaths cease, and you're left in the presence of a dead man. Numbly, you stand back up and gaze at the fight. You knew you needed to help in this battle in the first place, but speaking with Byron has strengthened your resolve. The only thing left to decide is where you will help.
  
  > help the right flank
  Year 378 of the Second Era
  
  You aren't Byron. You won't be able to lead these men better than him, or lead them at all. You're just another soldier, but you do think it matters where you go. You happen to be right handed, so you'll likely fight better in the right flank. With this hope in mind, you go over to your destination.
  
  The fighting over here doesn't seem nearly as intense as the fighting near the center. You pull out your sword and shield, and immediately get to work. Most of the people fighting are beginning to get tired, so the addition of a fresh, well equipped soldier vastly improves the line. So much, in fact, that it seems that the entirety of the right flank almost molds around your fighting. Which strikes you as odd specifically because of the way you're fighting. You don't rush in and throw yourself at the enemy in a fit of battlefield rage, or anything of that sort. No, you're calm in the heat of battle. You have a focused determination, and because of this you don't make any brash moves. Your goal is to stay alive while keeping everyone else alive as well. Defense is the best offense, and it happens to make the fight last a hell of a lot longer. Maybe this will buy enough time for the griffin knights to take care of the wyverns.
  
  With this thought in mind, you fight. Not for glory, nor for yourself. You fight for Liliana, and the chance to see her alive and well again.
  
  "Retreat!" The sound of a despairing voice breaks you out of your focus, and a kobold nearly guts you because of it, but you quickly block the flimsy attack and return it with one of your own. It dies before you, and you have a sacred moment of rest before another kobold comes to fill its spot in the line. It gives you time to think about what the guy meant by retreating. Your line was doing so well, and retreating now would be suicide. The kobold would have a field day with chasing down and killing everyone on the ground. It was a cowardly, foolish mistake.
  
  Hopefully no one would listen to the fool's order, but, to your chagrin, they do. Soldiers from your left and right start disappearing, and, soon enough, there is no longer even the semblance of a line. You're quickly surrounded by kobold, and while you make a valiant effort to stay alive, it isn't enough.