Roaring loudly, Daelothwen raised her double bladed sword over her head, letting the sun bounce off of it and hit the men's sheilds behind her. "Death to the Orc! Carrion fowl! Ride, my soldiers!" She screamed, her horse snorting and pawing at the ground as the army of orc roared and met her.
She galloped down the field, far right from Elenna's army which held the center, her sister, Sillothwen held the left in silver and green banners.
They met like two opposing gusts of wind, and immediatly, Daelothwen slid off of her horse and sliced down the nearest orc. She relished in the sight of it; the sight of the orc blood staining her skin, her armor and her weapon. She met the nearest orc that dared charge her, sliding one sword end through the orc's body. "One down..." She whispered softly as she met another, and another, and another. She lost cound after a while, as the sun rose high in the cerulean skies. "For you my father." Daelothwen said softly as she looked from side to side to see her comrades. They were closing in around the remainder of the forces and it looked like all of the links in the elfish army were perfect and unbreakable.
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Victory favors neither the righteous nor the wicked. It favors the prepared.
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