No Name (Can't think of one)

[Wolf]

Started writing something a few minutes ago, thought I'd share with you guys what I have so far:

In the clouds we wage our battles,
on the ground our bodies lie,
for the right and for the wrong,
we bring war to the heavens,
deaths of angels bring us peace,
our souls fight for eternity.

The stench is beginning to become unbearable, dead bodies litter the tightly packed cells. Malnourishment has lead to the deaths of hundreds of my brothers. The one great Lithorian army now grovels at the feet of the evil emperor Hyliden. His people are not men anymore; they are war-like beasts who only live to taste the blood of their enemies. My brothers have to fight each other for the only food that can exist in a place like this, rats. It is ironic that once we laughed over our crushing victories and feasted on the fields and animals of farmers from the lands we conquered. We must fight on to survive. The Lithorian army is the greatest in all the lands of the north. My people were ambushed while our greatest generals were in Gyph, Hyliden’s kingdom, signing a peace treaty of all things. Defeat is new to my people and our strategies to survive in this condition are now only instinct. We have become like the beasts who have captured and enslaved us. My people are not the ordinary creatures that were born to this earth as flesh and blood. This world is our prison and we must fight to survive. Born in the clouds, my people had to die to come to this world. Our wings are no longer, cut off in Blight, the kingdom of the heavens, as punishment for the civil war we fought in. We follow and were banished for following our lord, Lithor, into battle with the 5 other gods. Lithor’s image brings us strength in these miserable times.

[Wolf]

Here is an update:

”Your days are numbered Lithorian scum” yelled one of Hyliden’s henchmen. He was a large, dark man with a big beard. His presence at our section of the prison camps was not uncommon. Almost taunting us he always had bits of food in his beard. Wielding a large axe he would cut down any of my people desperate enough to beg for food. His servant was never far behind him. He kept the keys to our cells at the tip of his spear; many have died by his blade trying to retrieve the keys. Randomly he would thrust his spear through our cages, killing women and men all the like, this man did not care about anything.

“I could take him, Dynian” an low voice said behind me. I turned around and it was Rhok, the strongest man in my cell.
”Don’t be foolish,” I whispered, “we need you in here to protect us, let some other mad man go after him.” He nodded. As soon as I had finished speaking, an arm reached out toward the tip of the servants spear, the keys hitting on another brought silence to the cells who saw what was happening. The prisoner’s eyes glimmered, feeling the cool metal in his palm. As soon as he had a firm grasp on the keys, the servant pulled out a dagger from his hip and stabbed the man in the side. His blood flowed down his skeleton-like body. The man’s hand only gripped harder, until he collapsed. As if nothing had just happened, the cells turned normal again and no one ever looked back at the dying man. “I told you, don’t end up like that idiot who just wasted his life.”
”I have something he did not though”
”Your smell won’t help you any” No laughter was exchanged, we have forgotten about happiness.
”Who knows, maybe it will knock him out, or maybe this will.” Rhok’s hand reached down his leg and into his large boot. He pulled out a crude club, made of human bone.
”Your are more stupid than I thought, Rhok, if the guards see you with that they will burn our whole cell alive. Who did you get that from?”
”I made it, when Jron was dying of disease, he told me to cut off his leg and tell the guards that a bear bit it off. I was hesitant at first, but I could see in his eyes that he wanted to save us from this torture”
”So your son was not killed by a bear after all? Your son was a brave man, may his soul continue the war in Blight.”