The young man sat down at his desk with the pen and journal that was gifted to him by his secret santa. "So many memories. Might as well start where my life really began..." He murmured softly to himself. He started to write about his history:
Throughout history there has always been a single line that could express every emotion, of every man on a battle field. A calm before a storm. The time where things are so quiet, that the soldiers, on both sides, begin to think about what will come. And thinking leads to other emotions.
It was a cool morning in the fields of runeterra, the morning mist lacing the ground in a light blue/green hue. The tall grass bent down under its weight as the early rising soldiers made their ways from their white lean-to tents to the mess lines. Black pots over open flames cooking what little food they had, rather what the hunters had caught the night before, normally rabbit or venison. However it was beef steaks, dipped in heavy grease, served with the finest chicken eggs in all of noxus.
For the older members of the army they knew what this was. A final meal for those who would never return. However for the newest of recruits this was a welcoming site, a morale booster non the less. One such recruit was Charles. A wide eyed boy fresh from the academy, he woke up early from a good nights rest. A perfected march towards the mess line, making his way through. He was taught to eat in less then 5 minutes, but today he had 30 minutes, 20 of which he had no clue on what to do with.
As he wandered around the camp he saw men preparing for combat, although no orders had came down from the headquarters of Lord Darius.
"Well we got our death meal today" One "old" soldier would say in a solemn tone. He was an "old man" In the army, he had made it past a year of service without dying.
"Another battle then, and with the troop concentration built up over the last few weeks, i believe this one will be a big one" The other answered.
Charles shuddered a bit. A boy of the age 14, who had spent half of his life in a school, now thrown out onto the field with other men that ranged in age from 16- 24. But that was one thing about a war lasting over 2 centuries, you start running out of boys and men to fill the lines. And thats where the word "Honor" was coined. Honor was a simple way for an officer to provide explanation to his men on why they stand there in the face of defeat, and fight to the death.
Being taught honor, and duty from the academy Charles planned to uphold such values, however he now had his doubts....
The difference between a warrior and a soldier is a lot. By the dictionary they are similar terms, both are men who fight in a war. But on the battlefield you could tell the warriors from the soldiers.
The warriors were at the front of every line. They would yell and taunt the enemy as much as possible.
The soldiers are the men that do as they are told. Nothing more. They wear their scars proud for the deeds that they have done, but never boast about them.
But there were the select few, that fought with the ferocity of a warrior, but kept the quiet and professional attitude of a soldier. Charles was one of them.
tadatada......tadatada....tadatada....Went the drums of war. The regiments fell into rank. The crimson red uniforms clad with the black steal formed a wall, 20,000 man long and 1,000 man deep. The massive formation began to march out into the field. Out from on his steed was Lord Darius with his giant axe.
The men sang the march song of Noxus ~We few men of Noxus march today. We proud warriors fight today. We victors celebrate today. For today we march against demacia. With their weak spines, We will march over them and their country So we few men, march today~
The battle armor of every noxian soldier was the same. Steal boots, steal plated leggings, a steal chest plate with spiked shoulders for ramming into enemies when they didn't have a weapon, and a basic round helm. The torso guard was often times colored red with the blood of the soldiers they had killed before. As such new recruits often had the full black armors.
Marching to the beat of the drums, Charles kept his blue eyes peeled forward. each step bringing them meters closer to the enemy, closer to the chance of death, but also closer to victory, or so they were told. Charles had the best seat in the house, 3 men down from their 'great' leader Darius.
A sudden halt of the drums caused the mass of steel bound flesh to stop in its step.
Darius rod along the front of the line "Men! Today we settle this once and for all. The Proud Noxian government has given me free reigns to campaign into demacia. And by all means! I plan to." He grins with pure evil "Ahead of you is the vanguard of demacia, some of the strongest warriors in the world, but let me tell you, i look at each and everyone of you, and know that for every one of you, 5 of them die today" He raises the standard "For Noxus"
The mass of men erupt into shouts and war cries. This is where a boy would become a man. Charles stepped out of line "You demacian Dogs, come and taste my steel!" The axe was swiped through the air as he entered the line again.
But like any battle everything stops. Men and metal freeze in time, no sound. Silence. Charles looked around with a steady breath. The warriors were quite, the soldiers were silent, and the drums were set down in favor of axes and swords.
"Forward! To Victory!!" Darius yelled as the man took off on his horse. Without a single thought 20 million men began towards their enemy in a full sprint. From the demacian side the word shook as the frenzied charge coupled with the yelling startled the hardened men. Never in the history of the world had there been that many man on a battlefield at once.
Charles was right there in front, charging as fast as he could, moments kept going by, the seemingly never ending run continued for more than 30 seconds. But 30 seconds was time enough for a man to decide if he were to be a coward or not.
CRASH Steel met steel with a loud crash along the front, two masses of men ramming into one another. The first man Charles met seemed no older then 19, he had blonde hair and similar blue eyes. Well he had them, but when his head went spinning through the air they fell out.
Next Charles went into the next line, an axe from the older gentlemen in-front of him went past his head, inches separated life and death. The shoulder spikes came of use as they were drove into the mans spleen before being yanked out to chop the man in half. Blood all over the axe that Charles wielded, he pushed forward.
The Organized battle soon became a brawl fest, men slugging it out with their weapons, helms, shields, fists, anything. However the fact that the noxians had 20 million soldiers on the battle field, and the demacians only mustered 15 million, there was a distinct man power difference.
Further down the line Darius was chopping men in half with his giant axe that resembled more so an executioners axe then anything else. However soon he was being attacked by a dozen or so soldiers.
But who, non the less was the best man to save the 'great' leader. Charles. After brutally slicing a man open and pulling out his spinal cord, Charles rushed over to their leader, standing by his side "Sir, i'm here, what would you have me do"
Darius would reply simply "kill"
And with that single word both of them leaped into combat, Charles first took and the man with the sword, he parried the sword the ground before running up the guys arm, flipping into the air and cracking his skull open. Next a quick 180 spin sent his axe down range towards a cocking axeman charging darius. Grabbing the deceased mans sword he charge two more men, the shoulder picks impaling them in the hearts.
Then the sword was ran through a younger looking man, in all actuality it was a boy, no more than 10 years of age, stuck in the military. His armor was to big on him and he fumbled around. When Charles came running at him he had no chance. The sword went through him before he could drop his sword and run. His eyes were silver and glowing. Charles stopped and looked at him. He had been killing men all day, but when he saw the dying face of a person that looked similar to him, the reality of war hit him like a rock.
Charles pulled the sword out and laid it to the side as he held the boy in his arms "Im....im sorry" He looked at the boy struggle for breath. He couldn't bare it though. He laid the boy down, slamming the sword above his head and putting his helm on the hilt of the blade.
Over the battlefield the Demacian horns of retreat sounded out. Charles stood up and watched the cheering men all around him. Darius walked over to him "you did what you were told to, and even saved my life. Come speak with me later young one" He walked off.
The battlefield was littered with bodies everywhere, both in the blue and gold, and in black and red. Charles witnessed all of this with the horror and reality of everything that had happened. He had drawn his first blood, and it was a bitter sweet moment. But isnt it always.
A soldier is a hard job to do. They are taken from their homes and thrown into battle, being taught to do something that is against human and moral nature. Kill someone of their own kind. This means that their governments are basically teaching them to be murderers. Some men are able to handle this without a problem. However some felt the full remorse that other would feel.
The soldiers of noxus were in celebration back at their camp, the Runeterrian green moon shining high in the sky. The Banter of victory and greatness in battle were raised to the songs and toasts to total victory for noxus. The campfires provided both the light and warmth to the exhausted, but estatic soldiers.
However the young Charles was walking back to his Lean-to tent. His blue eyes were shielded to the ground as he was fighting off his feelings. 10. Thats how old that kid was. Younger then he was. This hit him hard. The heavy armor shed off into the tent before walking back out in his undershirt.
A soft few measured strides landed him with his squad. The same boys that had went through the hell that noxus called school. He looked around at their eyes, they shared the same eyes that are weak, and near vomiting into the fire. "Day one....Can't tell what was worse"
The soft murmurs that rang out gave the knowledge charles needed. He hated today. And so did they. "Food....beer?" He asked them silently. A few nods were returned as charles handed out the cool mugs "My friends we survived today, that is a good thing" A soft sigh as he looked up into the sky
The drums of victory sounded as the great General Darius marched through camp with his royal guard, the Crimson legate. These men and women drapped in Red and black cloaks carried odd looking weapons, some shaped into half moons, some were gruly looking blades.
They marched to a strong beat, the soldiers cheered for their fearless leader. Charles joined into the line, but didn't cheer. Simply watched and listened. Wondering why the Legate had been brought to the front. Either way, he was tired. He turned to his squad "Lets go to bed. Early day tomorrow"
The young boy looked up at a clock "4 in the morning..." He closed the journal silently and stood, checking his gear before making his way back to duty.
Throughout history there has always been a single line that could express every emotion, of every man on a battle field. A calm before a storm. The time where things are so quiet, that the soldiers, on both sides, begin to think about what will come. And thinking leads to other emotions.
It was a cool morning in the fields of runeterra, the morning mist lacing the ground in a light blue/green hue. The tall grass bent down under its weight as the early rising soldiers made their ways from their white lean-to tents to the mess lines. Black pots over open flames cooking what little food they had, rather what the hunters had caught the night before, normally rabbit or venison. However it was beef steaks, dipped in heavy grease, served with the finest chicken eggs in all of noxus.
For the older members of the army they knew what this was. A final meal for those who would never return. However for the newest of recruits this was a welcoming site, a morale booster non the less. One such recruit was Charles. A wide eyed boy fresh from the academy, he woke up early from a good nights rest. A perfected march towards the mess line, making his way through. He was taught to eat in less then 5 minutes, but today he had 30 minutes, 20 of which he had no clue on what to do with.
As he wandered around the camp he saw men preparing for combat, although no orders had came down from the headquarters of Lord Darius.
"Well we got our death meal today" One "old" soldier would say in a solemn tone. He was an "old man" In the army, he had made it past a year of service without dying.
"Another battle then, and with the troop concentration built up over the last few weeks, i believe this one will be a big one" The other answered.
Charles shuddered a bit. A boy of the age 14, who had spent half of his life in a school, now thrown out onto the field with other men that ranged in age from 16- 24. But that was one thing about a war lasting over 2 centuries, you start running out of boys and men to fill the lines. And thats where the word "Honor" was coined. Honor was a simple way for an officer to provide explanation to his men on why they stand there in the face of defeat, and fight to the death.
Being taught honor, and duty from the academy Charles planned to uphold such values, however he now had his doubts....
The difference between a warrior and a soldier is a lot. By the dictionary they are similar terms, both are men who fight in a war. But on the battlefield you could tell the warriors from the soldiers.
The warriors were at the front of every line. They would yell and taunt the enemy as much as possible.
The soldiers are the men that do as they are told. Nothing more. They wear their scars proud for the deeds that they have done, but never boast about them.
But there were the select few, that fought with the ferocity of a warrior, but kept the quiet and professional attitude of a soldier. Charles was one of them.
tadatada......tadatada....tadatada....Went the drums of war. The regiments fell into rank. The crimson red uniforms clad with the black steal formed a wall, 20,000 man long and 1,000 man deep. The massive formation began to march out into the field. Out from on his steed was Lord Darius with his giant axe.
The men sang the march song of Noxus ~We few men of Noxus march today. We proud warriors fight today. We victors celebrate today. For today we march against demacia. With their weak spines, We will march over them and their country So we few men, march today~
The battle armor of every noxian soldier was the same. Steal boots, steal plated leggings, a steal chest plate with spiked shoulders for ramming into enemies when they didn't have a weapon, and a basic round helm. The torso guard was often times colored red with the blood of the soldiers they had killed before. As such new recruits often had the full black armors.
Marching to the beat of the drums, Charles kept his blue eyes peeled forward. each step bringing them meters closer to the enemy, closer to the chance of death, but also closer to victory, or so they were told. Charles had the best seat in the house, 3 men down from their 'great' leader Darius.
A sudden halt of the drums caused the mass of steel bound flesh to stop in its step.
Darius rod along the front of the line "Men! Today we settle this once and for all. The Proud Noxian government has given me free reigns to campaign into demacia. And by all means! I plan to." He grins with pure evil "Ahead of you is the vanguard of demacia, some of the strongest warriors in the world, but let me tell you, i look at each and everyone of you, and know that for every one of you, 5 of them die today" He raises the standard "For Noxus"
The mass of men erupt into shouts and war cries. This is where a boy would become a man. Charles stepped out of line "You demacian Dogs, come and taste my steel!" The axe was swiped through the air as he entered the line again.
But like any battle everything stops. Men and metal freeze in time, no sound. Silence. Charles looked around with a steady breath. The warriors were quite, the soldiers were silent, and the drums were set down in favor of axes and swords.
"Forward! To Victory!!" Darius yelled as the man took off on his horse. Without a single thought 20 million men began towards their enemy in a full sprint. From the demacian side the word shook as the frenzied charge coupled with the yelling startled the hardened men. Never in the history of the world had there been that many man on a battlefield at once.
Charles was right there in front, charging as fast as he could, moments kept going by, the seemingly never ending run continued for more than 30 seconds. But 30 seconds was time enough for a man to decide if he were to be a coward or not.
CRASH Steel met steel with a loud crash along the front, two masses of men ramming into one another. The first man Charles met seemed no older then 19, he had blonde hair and similar blue eyes. Well he had them, but when his head went spinning through the air they fell out.
Next Charles went into the next line, an axe from the older gentlemen in-front of him went past his head, inches separated life and death. The shoulder spikes came of use as they were drove into the mans spleen before being yanked out to chop the man in half. Blood all over the axe that Charles wielded, he pushed forward.
The Organized battle soon became a brawl fest, men slugging it out with their weapons, helms, shields, fists, anything. However the fact that the noxians had 20 million soldiers on the battle field, and the demacians only mustered 15 million, there was a distinct man power difference.
Further down the line Darius was chopping men in half with his giant axe that resembled more so an executioners axe then anything else. However soon he was being attacked by a dozen or so soldiers.
But who, non the less was the best man to save the 'great' leader. Charles. After brutally slicing a man open and pulling out his spinal cord, Charles rushed over to their leader, standing by his side "Sir, i'm here, what would you have me do"
Darius would reply simply "kill"
And with that single word both of them leaped into combat, Charles first took and the man with the sword, he parried the sword the ground before running up the guys arm, flipping into the air and cracking his skull open. Next a quick 180 spin sent his axe down range towards a cocking axeman charging darius. Grabbing the deceased mans sword he charge two more men, the shoulder picks impaling them in the hearts.
Then the sword was ran through a younger looking man, in all actuality it was a boy, no more than 10 years of age, stuck in the military. His armor was to big on him and he fumbled around. When Charles came running at him he had no chance. The sword went through him before he could drop his sword and run. His eyes were silver and glowing. Charles stopped and looked at him. He had been killing men all day, but when he saw the dying face of a person that looked similar to him, the reality of war hit him like a rock.
Charles pulled the sword out and laid it to the side as he held the boy in his arms "Im....im sorry" He looked at the boy struggle for breath. He couldn't bare it though. He laid the boy down, slamming the sword above his head and putting his helm on the hilt of the blade.
Over the battlefield the Demacian horns of retreat sounded out. Charles stood up and watched the cheering men all around him. Darius walked over to him "you did what you were told to, and even saved my life. Come speak with me later young one" He walked off.
The battlefield was littered with bodies everywhere, both in the blue and gold, and in black and red. Charles witnessed all of this with the horror and reality of everything that had happened. He had drawn his first blood, and it was a bitter sweet moment. But isnt it always.
A soldier is a hard job to do. They are taken from their homes and thrown into battle, being taught to do something that is against human and moral nature. Kill someone of their own kind. This means that their governments are basically teaching them to be murderers. Some men are able to handle this without a problem. However some felt the full remorse that other would feel.
The soldiers of noxus were in celebration back at their camp, the Runeterrian green moon shining high in the sky. The Banter of victory and greatness in battle were raised to the songs and toasts to total victory for noxus. The campfires provided both the light and warmth to the exhausted, but estatic soldiers.
However the young Charles was walking back to his Lean-to tent. His blue eyes were shielded to the ground as he was fighting off his feelings. 10. Thats how old that kid was. Younger then he was. This hit him hard. The heavy armor shed off into the tent before walking back out in his undershirt.
A soft few measured strides landed him with his squad. The same boys that had went through the hell that noxus called school. He looked around at their eyes, they shared the same eyes that are weak, and near vomiting into the fire. "Day one....Can't tell what was worse"
The soft murmurs that rang out gave the knowledge charles needed. He hated today. And so did they. "Food....beer?" He asked them silently. A few nods were returned as charles handed out the cool mugs "My friends we survived today, that is a good thing" A soft sigh as he looked up into the sky
The drums of victory sounded as the great General Darius marched through camp with his royal guard, the Crimson legate. These men and women drapped in Red and black cloaks carried odd looking weapons, some shaped into half moons, some were gruly looking blades.
They marched to a strong beat, the soldiers cheered for their fearless leader. Charles joined into the line, but didn't cheer. Simply watched and listened. Wondering why the Legate had been brought to the front. Either way, he was tired. He turned to his squad "Lets go to bed. Early day tomorrow"
The young boy looked up at a clock "4 in the morning..." He closed the journal silently and stood, checking his gear before making his way back to duty.