The Red Hand of Doom

Chapter 12

"Interview With a Legend," circ. 1893

“There are those who say that the Elsir War was just a fairy tale, that it was fictitious. The latter part is completely untrue. But this was no fairy tale I had ever read.

There are those that say that I could not possibly be a thousand years old, that me being the same Hans from Brindol is impossible. But my life was certainly extraordinary.

I am sure you know all about the Cappidocean Accords, and the Khitomer Licensure. But you asked me to comment on the Battle of Brindol.”

Pauses, takes a drink

Valashinda and his group think that they did such a great job. Well, they did; they did their best, and they did a lot of good. But they were not there. They cannot possibly comprehend being on the front lines was like.

Blood. There was blood everywhere. It coated the streets, it coated our armor. Some of the Lions could hardly see, there was so much blood covering them.

I do not know much about Hobgoblins, but they have a LOT of blood.

I remember they were everywhere – they climbed over the walls, poured through the houses, jumped from above, crawled from below. We took heavy casualties, but we only because they were in the middle of a fanatical riot. If they had been thinking clearly, we would all be dead.

I saw them fall to traps, and the ones behinds them fall to traps. They threw themselves to the spikes to make a ramp so those behind them could have better leverage.

I… I remember seeing Captain Ulverth, covered in blood, removing a Goblin’s head with his bare hands. I remember seeing the Scimitar fly overhead, destroying the giants who were breaking the walls.

I hear they were also able to kill the two dragons… but then again, I never saw them.

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