[ WP ] Write an epic battle

The cool mountain air carried the scent of danger. Thand breathed deeply of the rich scent of the forest. He was alone, a rare privilege these days. As the scion of one of the five Xopa houses, and highest ranking Xopa commander in the Imperial army, his soldiers and servants always surrounded him. He knew some of the humans under his command mocked him for keeping to the old ways of his people. He snorted to himself as he thought of the puny humans and their torches, horses, guns, and dogs. No, the true test of the warrior was to face the darkness alone. 
 
 Alone in the dark, Thand drew strength from the forest. Some of the Xopa raiders captured earlier that day had cursed him as a rastilneta, the slur free Xopa used to describe their brethren who had joined the empire. Let those starving wretches call him a potted plant when he hunted alone tonight with only his blade, he thought to himself. 
 
 Somewhere in the darkness ahead, under the cold light of the moon, a panther screamed. Thand ’ s blood chilled at the sound as he instinctively moved toward it. His prey was a predator herself, and he silently congratulated her on her kill. He prayed to be so lucky when he would find her. His eyes were already adjusting to the darkness, and his other senses conveyed so much more of what the woods would say. He pitied his human comrades who would never know the secrets of the forest. 
 
 Despite Thand ’ s heightened senses, it was the whistling that alerted him to their presence. He instinctively dropped into the fighting stance taught to him by his teachers. As the son of a sinjoro, he had of course been taught to fight in the Imperial style, although his father had demanded that he and his brothers learn the old ways as well. The result had been a very peculiar blend of old and new that made Thand one of the most formidable fighters in the empire. 
 
 The whistling intensified as a dozen Xopa warriors emerged from the trees in a rough circle around him. In the darkness their chestnut skin and rich green braids blended well with the woods. 
 
 Look, a lost little rastilneta one mocked him. 
 
 All alone without any men or guns to protect him another said. 
 
 The speech of the Xopa sounded like the rustle of the wind through leaves, and carried the unmistakable lilt of laughter. Stepping forward into the clearing, Thand could see that they were lean, wiry and ropy, despite being nearly nine feet tall. They were naked except for loincloths, although the leader was wearing a pouched vest as well. Their simple costumes were in sharp contrast to Thand ’ s attire. 
 
 Dressed in the blue and butternut of the Imperial Army of Ortinia, with his brown leather boots, Thand looked ridiculous. As Xopa were almost one and a half times the size of a man, his tunic and pants were large and loose. At his hip he reached reflexively for his holster, only to remember that he had left it behind. The only weapon he had with him was his traditional scimitar. 
 
 Are you ready to die, rastilneta? another taunted him, as the circle feinted in and out around him. 
 
 Thand stoop up, revealing his impressive ten-foot height. “ I am Thandizwe sin Arakwe. My father was Galza sin Arakwe. His father was Syabu Doxar sin Arakwe. I can trace my ancestry back to Mizuxi himself. You are nothing but bandits and beggars, ” he said with a well-earned arrogance. He undid the brass buttons and shrugged off his tunic. 
 
 The moonlight revealed his beautiful, scarred body. There were marks from the fights his father had demanded of him, from the duels he had fought on his long rise to power, and from his many battles for the Ortinians. He hefted the sabre as he stared at the leader. 
 
 “ This blade was made in the old way, from the stinger of the giant daggerwasp. I killed the queen and drank her dream honey myself. I blooded this blade when I was but eight summers old, on raider scum just like you, ” Thand growled. His eyes flicked from warrior to warrior. Thand knew he was outnumbered twelve to one. He had to draw them in. 
 
 “ When I kill you, I will burn your bodies. I will throw the ashes into the great salt. Your seed will shrivel up and die. Your spirits will be condemned to howl in the wastes for all eternity. ” This last insult finally proved too much and one warrior charged him with a fierce cry. 
 
 Thand ’ s scimitar met his attacker in the throat, spilling his rich sweet blood on the pine needles. As the warrior ’ s momentum carried him forward, Thand buried his blade in the xopa ’ s back. The warrior ’ s lifeless body collapsed to the floor. A new respect appeared in the eyes of the leader and the older veterans. A growing fear warred behind the eyes of some of the younger warriors. Another charged Thand from the side. 
 
 Thand dropped his shoulder and flipped the charging warrior into the air. With a fearsome upward slash, he was coated in the blood of the warrior. His opponent was dead before he hit the ground. Thandize we, covered in blood, heard the ritual song of his ancestors on the wind. The blood lust was on him. He turned and eyed the smallest warrior. His markings were the same as the leader. Ahh, thought Thand, and here is where his weakness will lie. “ Shall I kill your seedling in front of you? ” he challenged the leader. 
 
 The leader ’ s face became a mask of rage as he ordered, KILL HIM 
 
 The circle closed on Thand. Ostris and knives flashed in the darkness in the cold light of the moon. For every wound Thand received he gave two. He repeated his mantra again and again. “ I AM THANDIZWE SIN ARAKWE. ” Slash, stab. “ I AM THE BLOOD OF MIZUXI. ” Parry, thrust. When one warrior stabbed his sword in Thand ’ s back he grunted and eviscerated the fool with his blade when the warrior struggled to pull it out. Another struck him in the chest before Thand ’ s blade cut him down. He bled from two dozen wounds as the soft ground soaked up the hot blood of eleven Xopa. 
 
 Thand staggered around like a wounded bull, slashing and parrying with his blade as he cut them down. `` I AM THANDIZWE SIN ARAKWE.'' Another warrior fell. `` I AM THE BLOOD OF MIZUXI''. A Xopa warrior uttered a guttural scream as he was disembowled. `` I AM THANDIZWE SIN ARAKWE.'' The leader's blade came up feebly. `` I AM THE BLOOD OF MIZUXI.'' The leader ’ s lifeless green eyes stared at nothing as his disembodied head rolled away from his corpse. Thand fell to one knee, half wresting on his scimitar for support. No fewer than six blades had been broken on his body. Ahead of him was only the seedling, who held his blade in front of him with both trembling hands. 
 
 “ Come, little weed. Come and fight me. Blood your sword on the blood of Mizuxi himself. ” The seedling took a step backwards. Even mortally wounded, Thand was a terrifying sight. Thand took pity on the young warrior. Barely seven feet tall, he surely could not be much older than his tenth summer. 
 
 “ This will be the song they will sing of you. You will be the one who killed Thandizwe sin Arakwe. ” He cajoled the boy. “ All you must do is strike me down. Give me the Warrior ’ s death. ” 
 
 The seedling took a tentative step forward, almost running when Thand raised his curved sword. “ NO! ” Thand barked, “ You must earn my blood, little weed. Become a warrior today, and strike me down, or I will kill you myself and burn your body. ” The boy ’ s eyes hardened and he nodded. He lunged at Thand, who parried his inexpert thrust easily. 
 
 “ Pathetic ” he laughed, as the seedling picked himself up. “ I will cut your hand off if you try something that foolish again. ” Thand coughed up some more blood. “ Do it quickly boy, or I will die with your blade unblooded. ” The seedling charged again, and Thand rewarded him with a slash across the face. 
 
 The seedling howled as the blood rushed through his fingers. Thand roared up at the sky, “ I have bled you. I have killed your clansmen. I have killed your FATHER. NOW will you kill me? Or are you too much of a cow-URK ” Thand looked down at the blade emerging from his chest. Thandizwe looked over his shoulder at the bloody seedling who had run him through. Thandizwe grinned at him. “ Your blade has taken this life, ” his chest heaved as blood bubbled a the corners of his mouth, “ Little warrior. Now I will show you. A true. Xopa.'' 
 
 The youth stood in shock as Thandizwe sin Arakwe fell forward with a thud. He pulled his sword from the corpse and turned to look for his father. His father ’ s head was laying on its side some distance from its body. The warrior picked it up and kissed its forehead before closing his father ’ s eyes. He dragged all dozen bodies to the base of a dozen trees, giving honor to all the warriors who had fallen in this battle in the wood. The sun was coming up by the time he was finished. He collected his prizes, the boots and jacket of Thandizwe, his father ’ s vest, the pouches of all the warriors, but left their weapons for the journey to the Beyond. The young warrior then began the long lonely trek back to his village.
