rain splattered down onto the battlefield, mixing sweat and blood together. the scent of the earth stung Stan’s nostrils as his armor rustled and clanked as his heavy footsteps slammed into the ground, sword in hand and the other on his chest—praying to whatever god out there that he lived to see another day. the squish of mud beneath his steps fell deaf to his ears, not combating with the yells and clanking of metal; especially not the way his breath labored so harshly that it rumbled his entire chest.

coming from the right side, a human soldier charged at him with their sword raised. stan turned immediately, sliding across the mud. “goddammit, there’s too much!” he shouted out, back pressing against a tree while he blocked the attack from his face. his grip around the hilt of his sword white-knuckled, shoving off the human.

“drow! fall back! fall back! we can’t—!!” he yelled, voice booming through the trees and vast land around them—now licked with burnt grass and scent of war. “now!”

he didn’t wait, shoving his sword in the sheath. wet hair stuck fo his forehead, and dribbles of bloodied war fell from his chin. the half-beast never felt so powerless before. the drow. falling back first. he couldn’t help but think he was the reason.

bleary vision didn’t feel good.

he barely registered the calls of his name.

the vacant eyes.

his worst mistake was drawing his weapon back. because now, he didn’t see the next thing coming: a sharp pain to his gut, then it began to sting, and before his brain caught up with the pain—

he’s on the ground screaming, fingers clutching the wounded area.

“go—!! just—!!” he grunted out, pressing down on the wound. his hand on the ground. he tried to balance his weight on his knees. he didn’t look up at the elves falling back. he told them to. he whimpered out, head hanging low.

his eyes stay locked on his fallen weapon. “goddammit…”

finally, he looked up to see a figure running toward him while the chaos ensued. just when the elves were nearly done falling back.

but he fell. faced-down, hand still firmly pressed against the injured area.

one could only pray he opens his eyes back up again.