White Hart I

Trees dots the forest, greenery all around. Skeletons and corpses fill the fields of the evergreens.

But still they marched.

The troops look at the corpses and gulped. 

These corpses, these skeletons are those that comes before them, that walk the same path they did and died because of the Darkly Things.

But the troops are not afraid. 

Fifty thousand men united by a single man is marching through the forest like a divine army, cutting through any obstacle without flinching.

Their armors, theirs shields, their blades and spears are drenched with the red dark blood of the Spawn of Darkness.

Like the story of Old, they are a band of honest men, of mortal descent, travelling the path of Darkness, praying for Light at the end of the journey.

Like a beacon of light that seems to shine away the Dark, these men march through.

The battle is done and now they are marching out of this large forest that separates them from civilization.