Doorman/MjollnirFirstAge

When I changed, I slowly began to remember more and more of my past, and I don't mean my ones as this nameless civilian. I mean back in the days when demigods walked Creation and our enemies fell to the earth like rain falls from the sky in a storm. I mean before a pack of uppity Terrestrials got some crazy idea in their heads to try and take us down. I'll admit, it might have been an all right plan. More and more of my brothers were losing sight of the long run. Creation didn't matter so much to them. Hell, even I was losing sight. Got lost in my own pride. We needed each other in the Primordial Wars. It takes more than one man to make an army, and apparently we all forgot that. War raged between the Dragonblooded and these Anathema...us.

I remember pieces of living, a few faces I knew, few things I did, but one thing stands out, and it's one thing I sometimes wish didn't. I remember how I died, in every perfect, bloody detail. From the first ray of sunlight on the day where it began, to the last glimpse as that tide swarmed in around me.

Bah, I'm leaving parts out. Best start from the beginning.

I don't remember the year. Too far back. Don't remember much, except that I had been up since before the sun rose, armed and ready. My pride made me think this would just be another challenge. That was a mistake, and a big one. Myself and my little army of mortals, boys I had trained myself and armed to the teeth, marched out there with that rising sun to take our positions along the entrance of a valley to crash down on all sides of this little pack of upstarts. We didn't need to scout, or think about a retreat route. We didn't need to. At least, we thought at the time.

We didn't expect the Dragonblooded to already have archers and spells in place. Before any of us knew what was happening, my men were being torn to ribbons by arrow fire, and I couldn't get to them to help, because the ridge I was standing on exploded. I fell the huge distance all the way down to the valley from that ridge, hitting the ground with force that could have stunned a yeddim. Got back up and found myself surrounded on all sides by approaching Dragonblooded. My men were dead, and I failed to save them. I had been taken by suprise, and was now standing alone against a lot more than the talon of upstarts I had expected. Multiple banners of different commanders were all around. I was surrounded by dragons. One man against an army. Of all my crazy stunts, fighting multiple dragons of First Age soldiers wasn't on my "to do" list. But I didn't have a choice.

They came from all sides, and from where I was standing, didn't look like they ever had an end. Endless tides of jade clashed towards me and I was barraged on all sides from a hundred weapons at once. Arrows shattered on my spell-hardened body. Swords and axes scratched along my armor. People were screaming and howling, hundreds died in minutes, and they still kept coming. I wasn't tiring, and they weren't stopping. Everything became a blur of blood a screams, a whirlwind of death that wouldn't stop. I couldn't feel the weapons clashing off my skin and armor. But when the sun began to set, and my spells began to fade, I slowly realized that it was starting to hurt. Little bruises first, under the armor, from the heavier hits. Then I started losing my breath. I kept fighting, filled with rage and hatred I didn't even know I could feel. Still they kept coming. I felt blood running along my skin after another few hours, as the moon rose high. Arrows started to stick. I started to swing slower. It became harder and harder to manipulate my essence. But I still fought on, desperately, all thought of survival absent, just the thought of killing every single one of my enemies, for the victory. It hurt more and more. I was actually feeling more pain than I had ever felt.

The last seconds were right when the darkness broke. I gave one final, brutal swing, and felt the blade stab directly through the joints of my armor and into my chest. The faces all around were masked or shadowed, and I found myself staring up at the mountains, into the east, watching the rays of sunlight rising. My life began with a dawn, and now it was ending with one. The noise stopped, the fighting ended. Almost like they were letting me look at that ray of sunlight for perfect, infinite second.

Then one of them stepped in the way, his masked helm impassive, and laid a hand on my chest, raising his sword to stab it home and through my heart. I remember smiling to him slightly, almost mockingly.

"Well played." I said.

And then it was all over.