Determined, you rush forward, shouting out, "Cover me!" to all troops nearby. Almost immediately, your troops forge a clear path forward and you dash through it, dodging the occasional swing of a sword or hack of a battleaxe. After several minutes, you reach the podium. Surprisingly, no guards surround it and an idea enters your head.
With a cry, you chop at the back leg of the stand, and it tumbles away from you. Men clear out of the way as the massive structure topples through the fog. It was, after all, made of dragon bone, and leaves you with a significant ache in your sword arm. You toss your sword from right hand to your dominant left, experimenting, and then decide on your right.
You confidently march towards the ruined stand. The area around it is littered with fragments of pure black dragonbone and you step carefully forward.
Suddenly, the heavy wreckage is tossed aside easily from beneath and sent spiraling into the air, crushing many inconvenient troops.
...And out steps the Dragonslayer.
He was strong, and dressed in spiked, smooth, pure black armor thick enough to halt near any ill-wished attack. You know of this from the many tales you have heard of his tyranny.
You never expected the leader of the Dalnor Army himself to be leading troops into battle against you: perhaps he wished the war over today.
He salutes you mockingly, and the area cleared out in a large circle around the both of you with two thick stone walls on either side.
You would receive no help today.
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