Aftermath

You jerk awake in the darkness of your own tent. The horrors of war come rushing back. Your foolhardy plan to **** a victory that nearly got your men killed. Did get your men killed, you bitterly amend. Adrianna's magic and Zachary's skill not enough to stem the tide of loss. And your own, ...contribution.

You slew the Chieftain in single combat, it was like something out of the stories. Foolish and idiotic, but also incredibly brave. You wonder what the men will think of you now.

A lance of pain shoots through your entire left side, you press your hands on to bandages and the fire that greets you with any deep breath is a welcome reminder of how close you came to **** today. Still, time waits for no man, not even a Von Doom. You must press forward. Standing on only your third try, you push open your tent and emerge to your army.

The men sit quietly around fires, licking wounds and sharing mugs of ale. Every so often a gulp is poured onto the cold dirt, a drink for the dead. Still, spirits were not low, merely withdrawn. Some men sang here and there, celebrating the victory, others compared trophies won today. Ears, heads, even a soldier who had taken a goblins cock, and what she planned to do with it was left better unsaid.

The men closest take notice of you and the camp falls silent for a moment, then erupts in cheers! Screams and whooping rush upon you as the men lift you into the air. You float above the camp for a moment, a dark beer pressed into your hand as men who clearly saw none of your duel tell wildly false variations of it. You narrow win against a chieftain became a decisive victory against a half-giant. You steel tasted goblin flesh and was hungry for more. You showed your manhood to the beast and it killed itself, and so on and so on. Frankly the stories became more disturbing than flattering after your penis became involved. Still, for a moment, in the arms of soldiers your troubles and wounds fell away. You are victorious.