the last part of Forrest ( i decided not ask you lot and compromised with this)
The barrier collapsed under the ferocity of the assault, Forrest sheathed his katana and drew his pistol. He emptied the clip in to the first giant; it kept coming. He dived to his left to avoid an axe swing, rolling back to his feet in one fluid motion. He drew his sword.
His first strike hit the northerner in the chest but the huge man came on, twisting his body free of the cold steel. Forrest ducked the axe the blade whistling just above his head, and then he sidestepped a down swing that left the axe imbedded in the ground. He sent a slash over his opponent’s belly he was respond with a huge punch to the jaw that sent him back.
The huge tribal drums of the northern army beat out their bounding rhythm, the hordes of men marched forward to their tune.
Forrest stood, still dazed from the punch around him his comrades were dying, the attack form the north never ending, he parried a wild thrust and sent the tip of his sword to severe the attackers artery, the giants were all dead now, evening the playing field. He levelled the blade to shoulder height pointing it at an opponent form his lips a primal roar escaped as his charge hit home, he gripped the delicate blade two handed swinging with all his strength, splitting opponents in two. He didn’t feel the blades sliding into him at first, the knife in his thigh, the arrow in his stomach, his strength poured from him and he feel onto his knees, then pitched forward.
The cool mud padded his fall, his sword limp in his hand, the dark crimson of his blood pouring into the drenched earth.
The gun ship sailed down the river, the miniguns on its deck ripping into the savage ranks felling scores men with the pull of a trigger. The attack was repulsed and the southern army poured over the makeshift bridges the invaders had made, ripping into the survivors with their blades. The northern army was annihilated; there all or nothing attack lay bloody in the soil around the river. The southerners gathered their dead and wounded and moved back to the city.
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She sat in the mansion, the chez langue felt oddly hard to her, as she focussed her thoughts on the trivial. News of the victory had arrived two days ago, but there was no word of Forrest. A servant entered without the customary knock her face unreadable.
‘There’s a visitor miss’ she turned and left, Stephanie followed her, her mind filled with images of sullen faced generals with death certificates, she turned into the hallway.
A man stood silhouetted in the door way.
