The militia lined up in a battle formation, battle standards flapping proudly in the wind. They numbered just over 3,000 in number, and consisted of all able bodied men and women over the age of 10.

An armored knight stood at their head, visored helm concealing his features. He clutched a war banner in his right hand, and a massive tower shield in his left.

"Brave defenders of our homeland! I speak to you, standing here as one among your number. Some of you are old, far too old to be fighting in a bottle. Some of you are but children, too young to wear armor or carry a blade. We are in dire straits, and your service is necessary despite your age or strength, for only united may we stand against the encroaching threat."

The militia stood silent, listening to the knight.

"Some, most, or all of you may never return to what home or family you may have. Some of you may return missing limbs, or unable to walk. Some of you may return alone, having left to fight alongside your best friends or brothers.

We fight against a for far more numerous than ourselves. True, they are far smaller than us. True, their iron holds not against our steel. True, they lack our devotion, and fight with weapons too small to slay us alone. Yet even so, for every one of us, there are a thousand of them."

Murmurs coursed throughout the ranks of the militia. The knight raised his war banner to the sky, drawing the attention of the entire force.

"So let it be that for every gallon of our blood that is spilled, a sea of theirs shall be shed! Defend your homeland, for it is our strength of spirit that shall guide us to victory!"

The militia cheered, weapons raised into the air. Even as they cheered, the opposing army crested a hilltop, coming into view of the meager militia. The tomkin army was massive, a carpet of iron clad soldiers marching interminably forth. A figure clad in a flowing purple and gold cape marched at their head, a javelin in his hand.

"Since the dawn of our people, the giants have driven us from our land, murdering, raping, looting and pillaging. After many winters, hundreds, or perhaps thousands, we have gained the upper hand. Today, we take back what is ours! We exact revenge for those untold millions slain by the giants! Today, the nine factions unite to strike a last decisive blow! In the name of the First Emperor!"

The army cheered, drowning out the cries of the giant militia opposite them.

The two forces faced off. Neither moved, and all was silent.

The knight reached to his belt, and produced a horn. He breathed in, closed his eyes, lifted his visor, and blew.

The deep note echoed throughout the battlefield.

The militia charged the tomkin army, roaring and bristling with weapons. The two armies collided.

Here, a group of tomkins were obliterated by a few giant footfalls. There, a man's eyes were gouged out by hurled darts. An old man was struck down by a bolt from a tomkin siege engine, blood spraying from his throat. A young girl gave in to the pain of the spears biting at her legs, and her falling body crushed her terrified assailants.

The bloodshed was of unprecedented proportions, yet it was soon clear who the victor would be.

The knight rallied those few survivors of the initial clash behind him, his weapon and shield stained with blood. The tomkin army regrouped and marched forth again.

The knight uttered a prayer, knowing his time was near. He was happy, for his young daughter and wife had gone somewhere else. They were safe, far from the armies of the tomkins.

"Be safe, dearest Teagan, my sweet child."

The knight, his tears hidden by his visor, motioned for his remaining soldiers to retreat. Most of them were children, boys and girls only a bit older than Teagan, and he couldn't stand to see them die. He stood alone, shield raised in defiance of the oncoming army.

"Let them come."