"Battles Gone, Lives Reborn" by Dabao ´The Monkey´ Jia

        The elven soldier squinted through the thick curtain of rain at his opponent. None other stood on this battlefield but them, the last survivors. The one to walk away alive form this would bring news of victory. The other, would not walk away at all.
        With a blood-curdling battle cry, the thick shouldered enemy hefted his battleaxe, charging menacingly towards the elf. Quick reflexes saved him form the killing blow. He swerved to the left, twisting and leaning his weight on his left leg while bending his right to plunge his bloody blade into the other’s leg. Crying with anguish, the other used the flat of his axe and knocked the elf across the head, bowling him over and causing him to roll away painfully, warm blood dripping silently down his temple.

        He watched as the orc gripped his leg, pain crossing his vision as he fell too. Neither were anything special. Neither of them were generals, lords, or even captains, just the regular soldiers one may see, taking the first blows in battle. The elven lord fell in the heat of battle, beheaded by an axe. The orcish chief faired no better in fate for he endured an arrow through the heart in the beginning of the battle. Both were just normal warriors, carrying the burden of an army.

        The elf was brought back to reality by the orc, screaming in pain as he put strain on his injured leg just to walk over and continue the fight. He obviously wanted to end this fast, whether death beheld his future or not. The soldier plunged his sword deep within the charred soil and pulled himself upright. Too deep did the blade sink, so did the elf draw his knife from his belt marvelling yet disgusted by the sheen in which the weapon bathed in the blood-crested field. He felt ashamed. Killing a life did not do too much harm to nature, for there was always another to take its place as long as another life still remained there. Yet here, not one-single other life, plant nor animal stood under the darkened clouds.
        Flashes of lightning flew across the sky above, the roar of thunder following immediately behind, intent on catching up to its brother lightning. The elf did not see the hideousness his race saw in the others. He saw another victim to bloodlust. Understanding flashed momentarily between the two. It did not last long though.
        The elf was the first to recover, lunging forward swiping almost blindly with his knife. Blade clashed with axe, eyes locked with eyes, both warriors grunting with effort. Suddenly the orc turned aside sending the elf falling over, losing his balance. Turning around, the orc hacked down with the axe, and what was the elves right leg was now a stump.
        The elf screamed. He screamed like never before, tears swelling in his eyes and pain coursing through his body. Now all the elf wanted now was death.

        But the orc did not finish him off, for he was pointing at something beyond. The elf stopped long enough to look where the other was pointing. It was a flower.
        Dewy rose petals wavered gently in the serene breeze, basking in the sun, for now the clouds scattered leaving the sun alone in the clear, blue sky, shining down upon the lone flower with rays of brilliance. This was life. Just one, but one was enough to start more life again and turn this land into a beautiful land of lush flowers and golden meadows. It took just one.
        Both soldiers shared the moment together, no longer enemies. And with a last breath, the elf closed his eyes, the steady rising and falling of his chest finally stopping.

        The orc blinked. The warrior turned to examine the flower, then in turn gazed at the elf, then viewed the flower again. Slowly shambling to the knife the elf dropped, he picked it up, seemed to examine that too then dropped it, disgusted as the elf had. Then he clutched his heart, the last drops of his blood dripping forth. So he too fell that day, understanding what many others should have learned a long time ago. He fell that day, knowing…