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My ears had gone deaf from the long exposure to the harsh sounds of battle, and the steady flow of blood from an earlier headwound threatened to rob me of one eye. Even with my magic drained I still felt strong. To the far left the Bloodguard banner was raised and those that were left fought hard with the Lord Warden. Sadly, I was surrounded by many of my fellow Bloodguard, some dead even more dying and nobody would be able to save them. Those that had held the field to the left of the banner were no more.

I stood at the edge of the woods, we were fighting here to gain the fleeing villagers time to escape. Our defensive line and the heavy smoke from what was once Tir na mBeo would hopefully allow many to disappear into the dense forest and allow Tir na Og warning of the unstoppable might of a combined force from Midguard and Albion. We had never stood a chance here, and I am not sure Tir na Og will either.

A sudden lancing pain split across my head as the air filled with a shrill pained scream, my spirit companion had fled as his physical form crumbles under the attack of Albion magic. I fall to one knee weak and defenseless as something drains the power from me, and the ichor from the headwound blinds me. As I fall to the ground dying the last thing I see is the Bloodguard banner fall, and with it the Lord Warden and all our hopes.

I awake twisted in sweat soaked blankets, the haunting dream chilling me to the bone. The winds of war are stirring, gods help us.