The battle was lost. Our honorable drakeriders and harpies had been defeated and pushed back from the orcs lairs, losing our one chance at vengeance. Our spies had done their best. Our wizards had driven our troops to a frenzy of bloodlust. It could have been the vagaries of terrain. It could have been a base miscalculation. But no matter what, over 2000 of our dead lay on the field in testimony of the futility of revenge for our lost defenders and homes.
When the ogres showed up, after a human army had decimated us, and slaughtered our peasants with the bulk of our army was out waging war with the rest of the kingdom. Bandits and dishonorable men defeated my proud griffon riders and townsfolk left to defend our lands. And, foolishly, I demanded revenge. My loyal avians followed their blinded leader into the den of the enemy with the courage of troops who had never known defeat. And died by the score. Oh, for the harsh fate of those who attack without thinking. And, now, they've paid for my anger and frustration. They deserve a better lord.
Somehow in our retreat, my bodyguard was separated from the bulk of the army. My loyal drake lies at my side. His strength nearly gone, he waits to die at my call, as loyal to the end. We stayed as a rear guard while the wounded were taken by air. However, we stayed on the ground in order to force them to engage us while they were taken. But they were not ready to let us go. So here I stay looking at my scout's body. His name was Cloudwalker, because his heart was never where he was at the time. My best scout's life's blood was feeding the forest as I watched the playful eyes that could cheer up the sick and the old with but a wink. Those soft eyes were dulling and glazing. His last breath was, "I give my life, to the greatest Avian King, it was a pleasure to serve....". It was a pleasure to know you my friend. You should have raised a family and had cheerful children to carry your name.
The enemy crashes through the forest towards us. Not using any stealth, nor needing any. My last few are evacuating the rest of the dead and wounded while we hold the line. Waiting for the inevitable. I look around at my bodyguard. Veterans of countless campaigns, they've never wavered in front of ghouls, knights, berserkers, or even ogres. Always willing to give their lives to save mine. Their loyalty was so misplaced. I have already given them a choice to flee with the others. To a man, they volunteered to hold to the last. They deserve a better lord. Their fierce eyes tell me that they'll not die without an honor guard. And I truly pity the orcs about to meet them. Swords are drawn, shields braced. They prepare to deal death to those who would threaten their king. I must stay with them. I cannot allow this to be in vain. If I die today, I could not wish for better or more loyal men to die beside me. Looking into their eyes, I see years ending. I see dreams unfulfilled, and hopes unfound. Maybe my death would not be so bad.
They deserve a better lord.
