The Battle of the Two Kings
Norsca is no stranger to war.
For countless centuries the Norsemen people have shed blood on this frozen land. But no war can compare with which it has been living these last years;
The Fylkmir.
This it's not a war for glory, riches or other worldly needs of the men but a battlefield between light and dark, a war in which the gods themselves would participate.
While the darkness rumbled in the skies, the army of Hralf, king of the Bjorling tribe, walked through the trails to the great battle. Under his banner walked warriors of Graelings and Skaelings tribes. Accompanying the host there were men of the heretical tribes who remained faithful to he Thunderfather, only just a handful no more than a hundred who managed to escape of the massacre at the hands of their fallen brothers. They arrived terrified to the lands of the imperials with terrifying stories about an evil that threatened to destroy not only Norsca but the entire world.
Hralf gathered what was left of his forces and his allies and he went to the east. Along the path the army clashed with scattered war bands of chaos and mutated beasts of the north. The closer they got to the east Hralf He couldn't shake the feeling that something unnatural was happening on the horizon.
At his side rode his son Einar. The young man had excelled in battle on numerous occasions and done slain numerous creatures of the north. At the beginning of the Fylkmir carried out numerous raids in the lands of the heretics to keep the enemy out of the realms, managed to infiltrate one of the ports of the Sarls and burn some of their ships, killed the chimera that terrorized the lands of the Skaelings, set fire to an entire valley with 5000 Kurgans inside among many other deeds.
The skirmishers returned with disturbing news. All of eastern Norsca had been swallowed by a carpet of amorphous flesh. There wasn't a soul left alive. Then a rider arrived bearing bad news.
"My King, the armies of the Chaos Wastes have united in a single horde march to west".
Hralf realized that this was the climax of the war and that the allied army would be needed elsewhere.
"Father we must return" exclaimed Einar, "we can't face this abomination with the force of arms, it is a threat to our souls. We must go back and regroup with the men".
"You are right my son. This fight is from His Golden Sons not for mortals" and with that said the king ordered the army to turn around.
During the next few days Hralf and Einar they pressed the march to get ahead of the enemy and get stuck in enemy territory. Then they realized that the previous fights they were just a decoy to distract them and slow them down while the servants of chaos maneuvered to put them between a rock and a hard place.
For return to friendly territory they they had to cross the river that separated the Skaeling kingdom of the Sarls. After crossing the river, Hralf was informed by his scouts that a large Chaos army was standing in his path, waiting to face him.
The Norscan army, vastly outnumbered, avoided the confrontation by retreating to the southern bank of the river they had just crossed.
"Come back" scream Hralf, "towards the river. Here we are exposed". Shouted the Norscan king.
Once this was reached, father and son did not cross the river but ordered the construction of a defensive camp that would offer them temporary protection from the enemies.
When they finished the defensive camp the horde of chaos appeared in front of them. Skalds banged
their drums and bannermen hold the flags of the Chaos Undivided.
Only when the sound of muffled footsteps cease, they were able to carefully observe the enemy army. There were a mass of 40000 between men and beasts and there were only 15000 among the loyalists.
From between the hordes of barbaric warriors and followers of their Dark Gods a man came out. He stood in the middle of the two armies and his voice echoed in the air.
"Hralf of the Bjorlings, I´m Viggo King of the Vargs. My people no longer exists, our lands are devastated. I´m no longer king of anything, all because of you. That a thousand curses fall on your unfortunate soul. I have nothing left in this world except the revenge. Tomorrow I will drink your blood in your skull like a cup and I will feast on the entrails of your son. Pray to your false god for salvation because the judgment of the Dark Gods will fall all of you" with that said he turned around and returned to his followers.
"He seems pissed off" comment Hralf, "Don't worry my king, I have a good idea" Einar says. He begins to whisper in her ear his stratagem and the father has a smile on his face. "There is no doubt my son that you were born for greatness. Let's start then"
The next morning the heretics of Chaos, after a night of partying and fighting, they go out to the field to assault the position of the Norscan Imperials but they get an unexpected surprise. The Norsemen army was entrenched on the other side of the river ready to do battle.
With the Carpenters seated in front of the camp awaiting the battle, the Norse army had taken advantage of the darkness of the night to cross the river, passing to the north bank, and ensuring that their movements were not noticed by their enemies.
Viggo boiled with rage when he saw that his prey was still trying to delay his desire for revenge. One of his lieutenants recommend sending a small group of Marauders to probe loyalist positions. In response Viggo cut off his head and held it up high so everyone could see it.
"¿Do you call yourselves warriors of the gods and you respond timidly?, ¿Where is you pride?, ¿Where is your honor?. We have the opportunity to win the favor of the gods with the blood of the infidels. The Dark Gods will reward us for the sacred work that we are going to carry out".
Then he raises his sword to the front and continues his harangue "Charge sons of chaos. Charge and let the world know what happens to those who turn their backs on the true gods. FORWAAAARD".
The barbarians roared with savage abandonment and they ran towards their opponents.
The need to cross the river through the existing ford and the ability of Enias to build his defensive camp and protections in such a way that the Heretics had to go through a certain site to be able to cross the river, caused an effect similar to trying to cross a mountain pass, forcing a large army to reduce the width of its ranks in order to advance and thus largely nullify the disadvantage of numerical difference. With this tactic, Enias prevented the Northmen from exceeding his flanks by taking advantage of his overwhelming superiority of troops.
First, came a continuous rain of javelins, some of which were designed to stick to the wooden shields and that they could not be removed, forcing the barbarians to get rid of the shield. A lesson the Golden Sons taught them. When they closed the distance it was the turn of the Axe Throwers.
In the ford of the river was forming a mass of savages so there were no problems when it came to hitting the targets and those who were injured they were trampled by their comrades in arms.
The previous strategy allowed to concentrate the Norscan defense in a front of cavalry that, when fighting in the water, took advantage of the difficulties of movement that the chaos warriors had on foot to attack them from a superior position. The few warriors who managed to cross and reach the other shore were easy targets for the five mammoths left to the Graelings.
The Loyalist Norscans began to move slowly forming a dense shield wall, bringing back the tribes of chaos off them side of the river. The ford began to turn red and to be flooded with corpses, most belonged to the heretics.
The disaster suffered by the warriors in the river prevented them from moving forward
but those who came from behind pressing forward create greater confusion and death. Viggo ranted against his men, executing their captains for useless and cursing the name of Hralf. The army of Chaos was starting to get demoralized.
It was then that Enias took command of the cavalry and charge forward, so that the chaos attackers ended up leading to a retreat for try to reorganize. Faced with this situation, Hralf crossed the river with the infantry to support the cavalry, with the intention of preventing the reorganization of the chaotic.
They avanced with oaths of blood and death, killing more and more heretics and mutants, fulfilling ancient wergild unfulfilled. The Skaelings pushed to their opponents towards the stakes in the moat of the old camp, while the Bjorlings plunged the steel of their weapons into the flesh of their hated enemies happy to be able to inflict as much damage as they could on the wretched of the Kurgan who roasted to invade their lands. The wild graelings they moved their great hammers and axes, in wide arcs, crushing and pulverizing everything that was stupid enough to get in his way.
In the middle of the army the Redeemers advanced. This company integrated it to those of the tribes who did not take up arms against the Thunderfather and sought to redeem themselves in his eyes with the blood of the pathetic servants of the Gods. They charged without any sense of self-preservation killing their former relatives desirous of redeeming himself from the sins of his people in the eyes of his new God.
Among them a champion stood out like no other. A simple blow from their axes was enough to crush the heads of make mincemeat of every Chaos Warrior in front of him. Enias found it
on a cliff wall about to bleed to death. Their tribal markings gave him away as an Aesling and the most curious were the corpses of other Aeslings scattered around. The prince offered to bleed for him and the man accept in exchange for killing the remaining members of his tribe.
No one knew the name of the warrior, never spoke or so they baptized it with a new name The Last Aesling. Wherever he went there is only a trail of corpses, encouraging his brothers in arms to greatest feats of courage.
From among the heretics a champion arose to challenge him against. It was a slanesh champion.
"So you're the one they call The Last Aesling" ask with a conscientious look while walking around. The Loyal just followed him with his eyes.
"I'm going to have to give you a little lesson, little scoundrel" finished with a voice loaded with arrogant arrogance. The Last Aesling responded as he always did with people of his kind; throwing an ax at him.
The warrior of Slanesh gracefully dodged the throwing weapon and pounced on Slayer like a feline. He blocked his opponent's attack with his remaining weapon and the corrupt man pull out his creeping trick; released his tongue sharp as iron to the Slayer into his eyes, but there was an inconvenience that he did not count.
The Last Aesling caught his vile tongue and throw his fist inside his mouth, kicking his teeth in the process and rip out his mutated tongue. The chaotic recoiled howling in pain and ecstasy to finish with the ax of the Slayer splitting his head in two. The Last Aesling turned to the tongue he still held in the hand, throw it far away he proceeded to pick up his other ax.
The prince Enias stood out among his men annihilating as many enemies as opposed to him with his mighty sword. The Golden Sons had given him and his father weapons forged with metal from beyond the sea of stars and its effectiveness was noticed in combat, men and beasts tested the edge of their blessed weapon and with every victory got more glory.
He took his sword from the skull of a sarl and drew a strong arc to his right, opening his skull in two to the Warhound who tried to surprise him. A Kurgan attempt to skewer to Enias with his two handed ax but the Bjorling dodge the blow and separates his head from his shoulders with a clean cut. An armored warrior approaches swinging his flails, Enias blocks the blow with his shield, cuts his hand off her arm and plunge your sword into his heart.
He raise your sword, still soaked in the blood of its previous victim, and launch a challenge.
"Hear me dogs of false gods. I´m Enias, son of Hralf, champion of the Bjorlings, paladin of the Thunderfather. there is no one among this rabble that can be a challenge?".
Right after launching a challenge something pounces on him, throwing him to the ground. Move his shield to hit such a cowardly creature and makes him go back when he hits. Enias gets up to get a better look at his enemy; a Skin Wolve.
No, it's something more. Share the characteristics of your race but it looks more like a bear. "I see, you are one of those Skin Bear from the Baersorlings" reply Enias. Stories are told that in the mountains Goromandy, where the Baersorlings live, the tribe was affected by a single mutation; some kind of werebears or something like that.
The creature roars with unhealthy hatred, preparing to launch at any moment. Excited to meet such a formidable rival Enias positions himself for his next fight.
"Rejoice my friend well today you will have the honor to be one of my trophies" say Enias with a smile. The Skin Bear just roars defiantly showing claws and fangs and both warriors launch themselves into what will be the greatest fight of their lives.
Meanwhile the battle continues. The Loyalist made a big breakthrough at the beginning but the weight of the numbers had its effect and the charge stalled. The enemy managed to regroup and launched their counterattack, the center being the main target of the attack.
There the king Hralf resisted together with his Huscarls, renowned as the Defiant Guard. The men fought like lions but slowly they were giving ground under the pressure exerted by the traitors. Shields dented, spears snapped, limbs flying, the combat in the center of the battlefield was becoming more and more chaotic and confusing as time went.
Viggo made his way based on elbows and pushes among his men to catch up with its prey. Hralf
withdrew his long handled ax from the corpse of a Warrior of Chaos just in time to block an ax and take a few steps back, narrowly dodging the sword headed for his neck.
The Varg King stood in front of him with all his panoply of war. "At last...I have you in front of me." say Viggo in a whisper. "I've been waiting for this moment for a long time and now I will finally see my revenge fulfilled".
"Spare me the speech Viggo" growl Hralf. "You talk so much about your Weirld that you have lost your senses. Since this battle began we have done nothing but overcome you in each step that has been taken and the only thing you are capable of is waste your lackeys".
Viggo stares at him fixedly before to answer "I recognize that you have managed to delay the inevitable for a while but no matter what happens i'll get my prize one way or another, even if I have to sacrifice them all".
Hralf was petrified by the madness that has taken over the heretic king. "I see what those crazy gods have done to you, you could have been favored for Him but you chose the path of damnation. At least i will free you from your suffering".
Before this Viggo burst out laughing "HAHAHA, favored?, freed?. Fool, while we talk The Great Father Nurgle prepares to destroy your precious Golden Leons. I guess you have seen the Divine- Meat, soon it will devour all Norsca and this damn world for greater glory of Chaos. There is no salvation, nor Thunderfather or Star-Folk, only the true Gods".
Suddenly the earth began to shake and worms the size of a house emerged coiling around the mammoths. They were creatures of pale and translucent flesh with a multitude of teeth sharp as saws in their jaws, with which they started to tear large chunks of flesh from their victims.
"Contemplate and witness the favor of the Gods, as they send their servants to help their faithful. Who sacrifices himself for you traitor?, nobody. It's the end of times and now….now it's time to DIE" shouts Viggo before shooting off in the direction of Hralf.
Enias take a deep breath while recovering from his duel with the Skin Bear. The creature turned out to be a tougher opponent than expected but in the end he came out the winner although the shield was shattered.
He take a quick look around the battlefield and fixed his attention on the new participants. It was the work of the father of plagues, there was no doubt but he could see what others could not; the abominations were being led. They could attack at any other point in the battle but they appeared in a place a very specific goal.
Something or someone controlled the beasts and he had to discover as soon as possible or the army would not last too long. As he checked the ranks of the horde perceived a solitary figure on a mound of stones, by its silhouette he could guess that it was a woman and that she was a sorceress, assuming that the staff she carried not for the sheeps.
He watched as the witch moved her fingers as if she was directing a puppet. He had found the culprit. He moved towards her with the intention of cutting off the bitch's head. The magical senses of the sorceress warned her of the danger and prepare your second surprise.
An minotaur block the way of the Bjorling, this one picked up a spear from the ground and
braced for the imminent blow. The minotaur started with a downward slash, but Enias easily dodged the attack stuck the spear in the forearm of the minotaur.
In retaliation the beast sent it flying with a slap towards the corpse of a horse. The monster pull the spear out of his flesh and licked it as if it were a delicacy. Enias it took him a few seconds to come to his senses, just in time to see as the minotaur was preparing to launch another downward slash.
He jump to the side, dodging the blow. In the end the strength of the beast because the ax blow was so strong that split.
Seizing the opportunity, the prince ran to pick up his sword from the ground. As his fingers hovered over the hilt, the minotaur grabbed him it from behind up to the top at the same time that there would be the jaws. Seeing what was coming gripped his sword tightly and throw a wide bow in the direction of the minotaur's neck. The blade pierced deep cutting meat, bones, muscles and cartilages. The beastmen took his hand to the bloody neck and fell collapsed like a log.
Hralf gritted his teeth as he parried another blow from the Viggo´s blade. Viggo raised his axe in turn as Hralf swung back his axe aimed at his neck.
"UGH! JUST DIE ALREADY!" yelled Viggo.
"And grant you the victory you so desire? Your gods must be hard to please!" he taunted.
"SHUT UP!" Viggo launched a flurry of attacks; forcing Hralf on the fence. Hralf study the next attack and prepared his ax.
He raised his axe just in time as the enemy commander crashed into it. With momentum, Hralf drove his opponent's sword to the earth and took the opportunity to cut off his right hand.
The heretic king roared in pain and in retaliation kicked Hralf away from him. He looked at his bloody stump, gripping his ax with his remaining hand.
"Even in the Last Battle you keep taking everything from me. What will be next?" accuses Viggo.
"Do you still think that the Dark Gods will win? In other time i would think the same as you,
but look where we are now. Never in our history no one would have dreamed of invading Norsca and live to tell, but lo and behold an army of demigods of only fifty that achieved more than we could have dreamed" speech Hralf.
"There are truths in this universe to which we have been blinded, we have been deceived by those who we profess worship. Beyond the heavens there is human life, humans who have conquered the sea of stars. How can we deny something so wonderful and powerful?"
"You disgust me" rejoinder Viggo. "The gods accompanied us from the beginning of our existence and you, evil skinchanger, you spit on them after all they have done for our people".
"I don't owe anything those who have enslaved us, stripping us of our inalienable right as a species and of our true lord. Not those wimps and insipid gods what southerners love, but a true god that keeps all peoples unified under one flag"
"SHUT UP, SHUT UP!, I will not listen to your falsehoods anymore. I myself will offer you as a sacrifice before The Great Father together to your beloved golden-race"
"No, You can not" smile Hralf, "Check out to your army oh great champion of the gods"
While both kings were locked in their duel the battle took shape. The heretics had continued advancing against the Loyalist center, forming as a kind of formation in reversed crescent. The heretic infantry, now stripped of protection on both its flanks, formed a wedge that drove deeper and deeper into the Loyalist semicircle, driving itself into an alley formed by the allied infantry on the wings. At this decisive point, the captains ordered his warriors to turn inwards and advance against the chaotic flanks, creating an encirclement in one perfect example of pincer movement.
Horns sounded from afar and the Loyalist army bellow of happiness; the Skaelings reinforcements had finally arrived. In the night before Hralf send horsemen to the cities of the Skaeling for them to hurry to arrive in time for the final battle of
the Fylkmir.
When the Skaeling cavalry attacked the heretics in the rear and the allied flanks assailed them on their right and left, the advance of the Heretic infantry was brought to an abrupt halt. The worshipers of the Ruin Powers were henceforth enclosed in a pocket with no means of escape. The warriors and barbarians of the horde were so tight that couldn't move their weapons. The Loyalist Norscans created a wall and began to systematically massacre them.
Enias got up slowly checking that he didn't have some broken bone. "I hope I don't have to fall a second time" he complained.
He staggered away from the minotaur, to reach his goal; kill the witch. He didn't have to go far. Suddenly he stopped moving, it didn't make any sense. He tried to force his muscles to obey
but it didn´t respond to his orders.
The next thing he felt it was that his meat was heating up, the pain was unbearable and the worst thing was that he couldn't do anything.
Enias he could hear how the witch mocked him, gloating over his suffering. The shamelessness of that woman irritated him, he was a warrior, the greatest champion of his tribe, destined to achieve great deeds in the name of Thunderfather. He couldn't die like that, wouldn't allow it.
As if his wish had been heard, he regained mobility accompanied by a cry of the bitch. Someone had thrown an ax at her, breaking the spell that kept him in captivity.
His savior turned out to be The Last Aesling. The man previously led a charge in command of the Redeemers against the Worms and when he saw that the prince in danger of death didn´t hesitate to come to his aid, to a price.
Along the way he lost an arm and had a spear stuck in his chest, flooding his lungs with his own blood. Every step he took was torture, but nothing would prevent him from fulfilling his mission.
He muster every ounce of strength that was still in his body and throw his ax at the sorceress bitch.
Once the witch's control over the beasts of chaos was broken the Norscans were able to face these abominations, losing all state of cohesion and unity. With his goal accomplished, The Last Aesling, collapsed.
The Loyalist Norcans made one last effort knowing that victory began to rise on the horizon, but the heretics wouldn't give up so easily.
It was then the heavens began to rumble. All fighters, from men and beasts, stopped fighting and turned their eyes up. Over their heads the clouds twist like a wounded beast next to the thunder of lightning and thunder, leaving both sides with bristling skin not knowing what that meant. Then a voice was heard, such a cruel voice that should not exist but that was not what it conveyed to those present; but frustration.
That voice did not sound as something that belonged to the world of men, it was like a rumble
of a thousand flies. The men would have lost their sanity if it weren't for a soft and powerful singing
that emanated from the heavens accompanied by beams of golden light next to the rays,
in contrast to the greenish and sickly rays of the malicious voice. It seemed like it lasted minutes, hours,
no one could know, until finally the silence reigned.
When it faded the sky opened letting in little rays of light, started little by little but the clouds disappeared to give rise to a resplendent blue and a very comforting light.
The silence takes over the field for a few seconds until the allies exploded in a euphoric cry seeing that the Thunderfather, king and legitimate master of humanity, had triumphed against the Darks Good. The servants of darkness lost their courage and ran a flock of frightened sheep, trying to find their gods elsewhere. The faithfuls of Norsca jumped on them just like hungry lions, roaring hymns of faith and death in His name. It was no longer a battle but a slaughterhouse.
"Ca...n no...t be, this...can not be hap...pening" exclaimed Viggo, "It's... not real, this is not happening, it is impossible" The Varg King was unable to accept reality little by little I began to lose his sanity.
"I...I am Viggo, King of Norsca, champion of the Darks Good, his Everchosen" started to scream and rant the fallen king.
"They can't leave me, they, they promised me revenge" his body began to convulse, unable to control the anger "Liars, the gods are really cruel, everyone leaves me everyone conspires against ME" unable to stand falls to his knees on the ground, at the same time that his eyes cry blood.
Hralf stepped forward with a firm and determined step until facing his treacherous counterpart. He raised the ax and launched a downward cut, Viggo's head fell to the ground. The face of his enemy reflected hatred, anger, rage, he looked more like a beast than a man; behold the monster that he had come to kill.
The Bjorling King felt relieved, as if a weight had been lifted from his soul. Was this how His followers felt?. Things looked different now, without the words of the Dark Gods flooding his mind.
He took his hands to the ax forged by the Golden Sons, looking at it, meditating.
"No. It's not that they abandoned you, but my god was always with me" declared Hralf with zeal.
Enias moved between the carpet of corpses that dyed the earth. In other circumstances he joined his brothers in arms in this great moment but couldn't abandon his savior.
The Last Aesling had fought many battles next to the prince and gaining great renown, he couldn't abandon and tarnish the honor of such a great warrior.
He managed to find him but was already at death's door, even though he didn't look like it. He had removed his helmet exposing his scars. Despite of all brands and disfigurements that the heretics inflicted on him, he smiled. He was calm, at peace with himself as if the horrors of war were a thing of the past.
Enias crouched next to him and placed his hand on the chest of the warrior, he returned the gesture with a smile.
"E...ni..as" he said with difficulty. "I wish...you co..uld se.e her, His light, i...t's so be..auti...ful" said for the last time The Last Aesling before leaving this world.
"We will meet again brother, at the right hand of Thunderfather" he took his fist to his heart and said goodbye to the hero. "Vallhala".
When he got up saw a figure crawl across the land, now muddy for the blood. His blood boiled. His comrade in arms had given his life in the greatest sacrifice of this age, managing to contemplate the end of this holy war and this whore had the nerve to spit on all that.
Enias ran towards her to offer her what she deserved. when she noticed him quickened the pace but it didn't help. First he immobilized her on the floor, turned her around and was disgusted when contemplating the curse of the flesh in her face.
"This...was not our destiny" she said agitated. "The times change" replied Enias before knocking her out with a punch.
Today was a day to celebrate, in all Norsca,
the Fylkmir had finished with the Thunfather victorious. His Golden Sons had walked to the bowels of the world to decapitate the most powerful champion of the Father of Plagues. This being was responsible for the evil that devastated Norsca, threatening to devour the whole world. It was the End Of Times and the Dark Goods were defeated by the True God of humanity; they were free.
Almost all Norca was devoured by the cursed- flesh, leaving the east barren from now on it would be a monument to weakness of the Ruinous Powers before the Thunderfather. The tribes who put their faith in the gods of the north no longer existed, devoured by the machinations of those they worshiped. this only helped strengthen to the idea that they were the chosen people, those worthy to embrace the light of Thunderfather.
After the battle, they erected a monument of fallen enemies in honor of Thunderfather. Crowning the top was a sorceress of Chaos to which they applied to her the blood eagle.
The battle fought on a par with that of Golden Sons It will be known from now on like The Battle of the Two Kings, an epic saga where will be sung for all time the courage and bravery of those men who held the line against the tides of darkness. Multitude of heroes and champions rose to fame and immortal glory in the darkest hour of the Norse people. Hadrilf The brave, who left a mountain of mutants or Gulraf The Hard, who prevailed over a stone troll until he manage to nail the Graeling banner in the neck of the beast.
But none could rival the deeds of the Redeemers and the King Hralf of the Bjorlings and his son Enias. The Redeemers fell after annihilating the wormy creatures of the Great Father, saving the army from annihilation, and between all of them the last loyals of some tribes of traitors who died redeemed in the eyes of Thunderfather. Between all of them rose The Last Aesling, the personified example of loyalty he who gave his life for his lord to the end, without hesitation, without regrets, he died with honor until the end.
Enias, the greatest champion in the history of the Bjorlings, march on the death camp battling against the greatest opponents in this world and came out undefeated. For the bravery shown, Amra The Divine invested him with the title of the Lion, having the right to bear the mark of the Golden Sons.
Hralf was the head led his men into the dark, the one who led the fight from the front, the one who starred in the fight between light and darkness, a champion of His will against one of the false and came out unscathed. He present the ashes of Viggo The Traitor to Amra, earning the blessing and praise of His champion.
It took years to recover from the ills that the heretics infringed on them but adversity was nothing new to the Norscan people, they learned that lesson from their Norsii ancestors.
Until then the norses will wait for the moment in which the Thunderfather claimed them to take the ignorant under his glorious banner and ascend the ranks of His Sons to participate in the Eternal Battle.
