Story of Thilin

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Prologue
A battle waged on the planes of Freya. The volcano Thres loomed in the distanced. In the middle of this battle was a platinum haired Elf, he fought through countless Goblin and Demon soldiers, always blocking attacks aimed at the unconscious Human behind him. He killed dozens, his short sword appearing only as a silver streak. He doesn't notice a soldier staying behind him in the fury to protect his friend. The soldier, not caring about the fallen man or the Elf trying to protect it , slices the back of the Elf's legs.The Elf falls and the tide of soldiers that he had been holding off overtakes him.

Chapter One

Thilin woke from the nightmare in a cold sweat. His sword arm tingled from the fight he had just had. He got out of the hammock that he had been sleeping in and walked over to the door of the tent. He squinted his gold eyes as he stepped out onto the sunlit plain. Tents of all sizes were set up in all directions. Thilin stretched his stiff legs and back, for the past three years he had been sleeping in full armor, his sword always at his side.
"Sir," came a tiny voice. "The Commander would like to see you. I think it's about the enemy."
Thilin turned to look at the young messenger; he was only about ten years old, with brown hair and green eyes. "Tell the Commander I'm on my way," Thilin said as he leaned down to pat the little boy's head. The boy, who was now smiling, turned back the way he came and ran into the largest tent in the camp.
'I guess our life isn't getting any easier,' Thilin thought as he looked over at the training grounds. He walked down to the Commander's tent and opened the flap covering the entrance.
"Hello Commander," he said as he stepped into the welcoming shade of the large tent.
"Thilin." the reply was in the casual voice of Commander Iikol, "I've told you before that we don't need to use titles." The 40 year old Human had golden hair and brown eyes, he was about six feet tall, and he was in full armor, the blue crest of the Freyan kingdom was painted on his chest plate.
"Iikol then, what did you want me for? Your messenger said he thought it was about the enemy," Thilin said, looking for the young boy. He didn't know why he liked children so much, maybe it was that they reminded them of his youth, which was now a good thousand years past.
"He was right. They've been stirring for a while now. Within the past day we've caught sixteen scouts," he pointed to multiple locations on a map.
"Damn Goblins, the Tribes-Master must have some trouble back home," The Elf laughed."Maybe they are looking for a quick escape route, possibly an easy victory."
"I'm thinking this stalemate is about to come to a close. Maybe even the war."
"So the Dwarves may be able to go home soon, they've been complaining of home sickness for weeks, it's getting irritating."
Iikol laughed at that, "We all have dealt with annoyances during this campaign. Mine has been those cowardly Goblins, and I think the Dwarves share that opinion with me."
"Well I'm going to go look for any more Goblin scouts."
"You are dismissed."
Thilin walked back into the blazing sun. The wind had picked up though, so it wasn't as hot as it had been. His hair began swinging in the breeze as he walked toward the outer edge of the camp. He waved at the soldiers as he passed, Dwarves, Men, Ecarians, and Elves. Gathered from around the world, this was possibly the largest army gathered since the Age of War.
He reached the camp's edge and looked out at the hilly plains of western Freya. They extended countless miles in all directions, only two objects marred this beautiful landscape. The first was the volcano Thres, the other was a black streak stretching across the horizon, the camp of his enemy. He looked at the camp and a chill ran down his spine as he remembered his nightmare.
"Something wrong Thilin?" came a voice from behind. Thilin turned to see a fellow soldier, a dwarf, his name was Bors. Thilin had had a friendly rivalry with this dwarf for as long as he could remember. Bors stood at about four feet tall, his red hair was shoulder length, his beard was split into two braids, and his eyes were a deep blue, which was highly uncommon amongst Dwarves.
"No, my good friend. Just wondering when the beasts will attack next."
"Why, so you can beat me again? I don't think so!"
"Is that all you can think about? I thought you hatted Goblins, and that was the whole reason behind your joining our campaign."
"Well, ever since that last skirmish, I've been getting restless. I want to get my axe wet again."
"You could join me in hunting scouts, you might get lucky and find one before I do!" Thilin knew he had just struck a nerve as he drew his short sword and ran out on the field. Dwarves hated to be challenged, but they hated losing even more.
"By Terah, you will regret saying that!" Bors yelled out to Thilin, obvious anger in his voice.

As the sun was setting, Thilin and Bors returned to camp. Bors was obviously pissed and Thilin had a bright grin on his face. "Something wrong Bors?" Thilin asked with a chuckle.
"Yes! That last Demon should have been mine!"
"He was twice your size! Are you insane?"
"Yes!" Bors shouted, his face beet red.
Thilin, unable to contain it anymore, burst out into hysterical laughter. Bors face went a couple shades darker.
"I see you enjoyed yourself." Iikol said as he walked up.
"I did, I'm not so sure about Bors though," the Elf replied between gasps for air.
"Damn right I didn't! Half of those scouts should have been mine!" Bors said just as Iikol started laughing. "You know, I hate you two!" he said as he marched off toward his tent, his chain mail jingling as he walked.
"Maybe you should have let him have a few kills," Iikol said.
"Why? That wold have ruined the fun we're having now," Thilin said, his face red from all the laughing.
"Bors is right, your are evil."
"Only if you see it that way, otherwise I'm just a person looking for entertainment."
"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, a messenger from Matone came wile you were out. I think your Fiance is getting lonely."
"Did you read my message again? I told you to stop doing that!"
"I said 'I think,' that means maybe I did, maybe I didn't." Iikol said as he started back toward his tent.
"Get back here Iikol! You still have to give me that damn letter!"
"You're supposed to call me Commander!" he shouted back, a sarcastic edge to his voice.

Chapter Two
The next morning Thilin awoke from a repeat of the nightmare. He got out of his hammock and stepped out into the sun, thinking today would be the same as yesterday. He was wrong. He saw a legion of enemy troops marching towards the camp. He quickly ran to Iikol's tent and woke him.
"Damn Goblins and Demons are marching towards us from the north. They think we're still asleep, and for the most part they're right!" Thilin said as Iikol sat up.
Iikol muttered something about MalTira under his breath as he jumped up and woke his messenger. He quickly told the messenger what to do and turned to the map. "Now where are these beasts?" he asked.
They are about here and getting closer. If I'm right, we have about four hours to get the camp up. Those Goblins probably have reinforcements ready should these beasts fall."
Just then Bors busted in to the tent with an Ecarian behind him. The Ecarian had blood read hair and similarly colored wings, his eyes were an orange color. His name was GiiPol. "Where are the bastards," Bors shouted at Iikol.
"They're on there way, that's all you need to know," Thilin said as he walked out of the tent. He looked out towards the Goblins marching toward camp, it looked like there were more than last time he saw them. " Hey Bors, I think they want a challenge! Do you want to see if you can beat me? An what about you GiiPol, do you think you could kill more than me or Bors?"
At that both came out of the tent, GiiPol flapped his wings and thrust himself into the air, Bors dashed out toward the edge of camp. Thilin just stood there for a wile and then said, "falan threya." His speed increased and he burst into a run and hit the field of battle before the entire troop of soldiers marching towards the fight.
He drew his short sword and started slicing through enemies, counting mentally as the bodies fell. When GiiPol arrived Thilin was at 24 kills. When Bors arrived, Thilin was at 32.
He slashed through Goblins and Demons with indifference, always pinpointing the opponent's weak points and hitting there. GiiPol came near and shouted, "I'm at 40, how about you?"
"48, are you really that slow?" Thilin said.
Thilin sliced through another three opponents and impaled another. He grabbed the blade of one of the fallen demons and started fighting with more fury. He cut through seven with his deadly dance, his hair whipping around, his eyes blazing. Bors passed by, his habit of counting out loud hadn't changed, "60, 62, 65, 67." Thilin quickly cut through ten more Goblins, then continued his dance of death.

When the fight had ended the count was tallied and Thilin had won by one kill, GiiPol and Bors had tied with 79. Bors, not wanting to believe that a "winged imbecile" nearly beat him and that a "pointy-eared girly-boy" actually did, demanded a recount which was promptly denied.
GiiPol looked at Bors as he marched off, then turned and said, "Doesn't like losing, does he?"
"He's a Dwarf, it's in his blood," Thilin said. "I'm heading to Iikol's tent. Care to join me?"
Actually, I have plans," GiiPol said as he walked away, his read wings seeming to glow in the bloody aftermath of the battle.

The interior of Iikol's tent had been transformed into a strategic center during the battle. There were people wandering throughout the tent. The map, which once only had the locations of the two camps on it now had markings depicting the movement of tons of troops. Iikol was looking at the map.
"Iikol, we have stopped the enemy force."
"Good, unfortunately that wasn't the only unit of the field. It seems that the goblins want to go down in a gloriously suicidal battle.
"Then why don't we give it to them?"
"Because it's just to easy."
"Well I'll go give them what they want if you won't, just have your troops prepared encase something unexpected happens."

Chapter Three

Thilin stepped onto the field with Bors to his left and GiiPol to his right. Behind him stood a group of about 100 soldiers. Thilin hoped that the enemy would see this assault force and try to counter attack. Seeing a group of troops practically knocking on your front door would warrant some kind of action.
They stood there for what seemed like ages when a legion of enemy soldiers came out to meet them. "Bors don't go and try to kill anything too big for you," Thilin said with a small laugh.
"And don't get yourself killed either," came the sarcastic reply.
"Will both of you be quiet!" GiiPol shouted.
"It looks to be about 400 soldiers, how about 100 for each of us and the last 100 for the troops?"
"That doesn't sound very fair. How about every man for himself?"
"I like that more."
"Will you shut up!"
"Shall we?"
"Charge!" and with that word the entire group ran toward the enemy that outnumbered them four to one. Thilin was the first in battle, his short sward a silver blur in the sunlight of the early dawn. He jumped onto the shoulders of a particularly large Demon as Bors ran up and cut the beasts legs. The Demon fell as Thilin planted a dagger into his skull. GiiPol was flying with a spear at the ready, he swooped down and impaled a Goblin, lifting it off the ground before letting it fall on its brothers-in-arms.
Thilin continued his killing frenzy while continuously counting off the deaths. In his fury he almost didn't hear a Demonic war horn in the distance. That was when he realized that what he was fighting was a decoy.
"Did you hear that GiiPol?" he shouted up toward the flying Ecarian.
"No, but I do see it. And help is coming."
'Good, Iikol did what I asked.' Thilin thought as he impaled a goblin, out loud he shouted, "Troops get ready for hell!"
A couple minutes later he felt the earth tremble from the charge of the new enemy force. "How long 'till Iikol gets here?" he shouted to GiiPol, who was fighting a winged Demon.
"About five minutes," GiiPol said as he dodged a blow that would have been lethal if it had connected.
"Damn beasts!" he shouted as he cut through another eight opponents, forgetting to add them to his tally. The pure ferocity of his blows increased now that his rage had been unleashed.