This was a battlefield of blood and fire, being fought with a dense sea of bugs.
Doron sliced another approaching bug with his longsword, splitting it apart into two. The originally sharp blade was now covered with the disgusting fluids of the various bugs, its edges chipped and jagged from use.
Any normal day this would’ve caused him great heartache, but at this point he didn’t even have the time to examine his sword properly. The army was like a lone boat in this sea of bugs, being rocked by wave after wave of death.
Death lingered around them without end, and all Doron could do was to wave the sword in his hands around numbly, killing one monstrous bug after the last. His comrades kept falling all around him, humans and orcs alike, but he no longer had the energy to care. He pushed forward without rest, stepping over the corpses of his comrades in pursuit...