The lone figure stepped out into the pre-dawn light. In his hand he was carrying a trumpet, for which to announce the arrival of his master’s army.  In his other hand he carried the banner which identified his master’s army.
        He was a Razielim, a son of the first born, strong, proud, and willing to die for his master.

**********************         Raziel was crouched over his war plans when their came a knock at his door.  
“Master, the army is assembled and waiting.”
“Fine. I will be there momentarily.” He replied.
“Very well, my lord.”
        Raziel strode across the room, to where his armor and clan banner hung. As he strapped on the armor and banner, he began to think about the battle that was being prepared for. This battle would determine the fate of Nosgoth, and who was to rule it. This battle would mean the death of many vampires, as well as humans no matter what the outcome. When he was done with putting on his armor, he walked over to the chest which held his weapons. On his side he buckled a sword and sheath. On his ankles he strapped his daggers. And finally, on his back he strapped his personal sword, Darkflame.
        The sword had been a gift from his father, after Raziel had matured into adulthood. The sword’s blade was forged from some unknown metal and was stained permanently black from blood that had been spilled by it. The sword’s hilt was an almost exact copy of the Soul Reaver except that the Razielim clan symbol was intricately carved all over it. The pommel stone was some unknown gem. It had been cut to form a portrait of Raziel. It was perfect, right down to every hair.
        After he was finished, Raziel strode out to his courtyard to the back of a temporary stage. As he was striding up the stage steps, he realized that everything depended on this battle. It was not some little village raid where there would be little or no resistance. These would be the last of the human armies, men who were veterans of battle, men who would show no mercy. 
They must do the same. ********************         He watched as his master stepped out onto the temporary stage. He was a stunning sight. Adorned in his armor, weapons, and clan banner, he truly looked like a God. A Dark God, but still a God.
“Razielim, my children, tomorrow we march to the final battle.” Shouts and cheers greeted this sentence.
“Tonight, for some of you, will be the last night to join your family in dinner and other, uh, activities. Laughter greeted this one.
“If you die in battle tomorrow, remember this: You are Razielim, the strongest of all. Die with honor for you die for our lord Kain.” This last remark brought a moment of silence and then roars of approval.
        As Raziel stepped off the stage, he called to the lone figure “Lazreon, follow me please”
        Lazreon pondered what his master Raziel could want with him, a lowly foot soldier, as he followed. Through the castle entrance and down the Great Corridor they went until they finally reached Raziel’s chambers.
“Master, forgive me for asking, but what do you want with me? I am but a mere foot soldier”
“Lazreon, I noticed your awe at my appearance, and I have decided to bequest upon you the Honor of Bearing the Clan Banner as well as the Trumpeter. You will announce the presence of the Razielim with the trumpet and banner.” 
Raziel told him.
       Lazreon was at a loss for words. This was considered to be one of the greatest honors one could hope to gain. He would be the first person on the battlefield and would most likely die, but he would die with honor.
“Do you accept?”
“Master, I cannot began to thank you……I accept” ***********************         Lazreon stepped out of the shade of the mountain, pulled the horn to his lips, and blew deep. The sound echoed through the valley, bouncing off the valley’s walls. Its sound was distinct from all others, being clear and crisp, yet somehow being grim all the while.
        As Lazreon listened, five other horns sounded off, each distinct in sound, announcing Turel’s, Dumah’s, Rahab’s, Zephon’s, and Melchiah’s army. As Lazreon watched the armies entered the valley. Even though Kain had tried to persuade the Rahabim from joining the battle, they had insisted but to protect them from the dangers of sunlight they were all wearing heavily hooded robes. They were distinguishable from the other armies because of this.
        From his vantage point, it was too hard to distinguish the other armies from each other. Just then, Lazreon heard his own clan army’s approach. At the front stood his master, Raziel, A Dark God in all his glory. He had unsheathed the great sword, Darkflame, and was leading the charge with it held high. Lazreon was awed by his presence.
        Lazreon noticed that Raziel wished to unmount from his horse and rushed to assist him. However Raziel dismissed his assistance and leapt gracefully from his horse.
        “The clan leaders are going to meet in one of the mountain caves to discuss our final war plans. I will return shortly.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I will leave Torman in charge while I am gone. Make sure he doesn’t start the battle charge without me.”
“Yes, my lord.”
        As Raziel strode off, Lazreon made a final inspection of his armor. It was a light-weight, yet surprisingly strong, suit of chain mail woven into a heavy cloth shirt. On his legs there was a similar pair of pants. His boots were made of simple leather and were made for running long distance. Lazreon was to lead the charge of the Razielim.
        Glancing around, Lazreon was still amazed at the mass of warriors around him. There were 300 foot soldiers, 150 horse mounted warriors, 100 archers, 50 spearman, and 2 catapult crews. All these vampires were willing to die for their cause. All were battle hardened veterans. And all loved their master, Raziel. ******************* “I still think that the Dumahim should lead the battle charge!” Roared Raziel’s second brother Dumah.
“Dumah we have already discussed this, we will proceed with the Turelim at the front where there powers will be most effective.” Raziel told him.
“Dumah since your people have the greatest physical strength you will man the catapults where we can use your powers most effectively.” Rahabim explained even further.
        This seemed to calm Dumah down, most likely due to Rahab’s praise for his people’s strength.
        Everyone else seemed to at least accept their positions in the Vampiric Army charge. Turel would lead, due to his clan’s telekinetic abilities. 
Raziel would be right behind him followed by Rahab, Zephon and Melchiah. They would proceed in the order they were born except for Raziel and Turel.
“Very well, I think everything is ready. Let us return to our respective clans.” Raziel said and they all got up to leave. However just as they were all leaving each felt compelled by some unknown force to turn around and hug his brothers. After this moment passed they each felt a little bit awkward yet felt enormously relieved that they could get along.
        Turel felt happy that Raziel had acknowledged him, Raziel felt glad that Zephon and Melchiah were able to at least tolerate each other, Dumah was simply glad to be loved by his brothers, Rahab was grateful just for that special moment with his brothers, Zephon was glad that something had finally wrenched his mind away from the constant scheming, and Melchiah was glad that his brothers loved him and that somebody other than Raziel was able not to make fun of him. *********************         As Raziel strode into his camp he felt immensely pleased by his warriors. 
They had all remained silent since his temporary absence. He had been informed about this by Lazreon. Raziel began to wonder about this totally loyal soldier. He seemed to have a smart head on his shoulders and was extremely good at swordplay. If he survived this battle Raziel contemplated the thought of promoting Lazreon to the position of Lieutenant.
        Alas, he thought to himself, this will have to wait until after the outcome of this battle.
        That was when the Trumpets of the Last Army of Nosgothic Humans began to blow. ************************         “ My liege, the estimates on the Vampire Army are 1500 foot soldiers, 1000 horse mounted warriors, 600 archers,  300 spearman, and 25 catapult crews” the human soldier reported to his king, King Rommstaad Vallha.
“I see…tell the archers to move up to the middle of the ranks.” The Last Human King told his loyal soldier.
“Very well, my lord.”
        As Rommstaad sat on his horse, he began to ponder about the outcome of the battle. On one hand, one fifth of the vampires were weakened by the sunlight but that still left more than half of this army to deal with. Although another two fifths of this army was susceptible to fire, the king’s army had a limited supply of flamethrowers and fuel. And though almost all of the Vampire Army was susceptible to water, the King’s army was unable to store enough water to do any real harm. In sword to sword combat however, the human army was supremely trained. However the Human Army was still outnumbered by 450 men.
“General Loiran, could you come here for a minute?” The King asked his the General of His Armies.
“Yes, my Lord?” the General asked as he strode towards him.
“Could you have the men dig a moat around the perimeter of the camp?” he asked.
“Yes my lord….although we cannot fill the moat with water would you like us to fill it with stakes?”
“Yes, that’s a very good idea. I will be there in a minute to help.”
“What was that my lord? I thought I heard you say I will be there in a minute.”
“That is what I said”
“My lord, I am not su…..”
The king cut him off “It will lift the spirits of my men to see their King working alongside them, to know that we are all together in our cause, so yes I will assist my men in the digging of the moat.”
“Very well my Lord”
        Even though his King did not know it, his General was very proud of his King’s gesture and devotion to their cause: The obliteration of the Vampire Curse. ************************ “Lazreon!” Raziel shouted.
“Yes my Lord?” Lazreon had come running to his master’s call.
“Ready yourself. We charge into battle soon. You must be ready to sound the horn at my call, for it will signal the Turelim to begin their charge as well. We follow right behind them. Are you ready?” he asked him.
“Not to be rude sir, but I was ready yesterday.” Lazreon told him.
        Raziel roared with laughter. All through the camp his laughter echoed and it helped to lift the spirits of the clan warriors for it was rare to see Raziel break into smile, let alone laughter.
“My Lord?” Lazreon asked concernedly.
“I-I-I am F-f-fine, it’s just I have not be so amused for decades” Raziel informed him.
        Hmmmmm, a sense of humor as well, Raziel thought, very rare among vampires.  I indeed will promote him if survives this battle.
“Lazreon” Raziel said becoming once more serious again “Sound the horn.” *********************** The few seconds before Lazreon sounded the horn, many things began to happen. The Dumahim catapult crews begin to ready themselves. Ropes were pulled, catapults loaded with boulders. Crew Captains begin to inspect this work. Elsewhere in the field Rahabim began to shift their robes to more comfortable positions while keeping the hoods in place to make sure they were protected from the burning of the sun’s rays. Zephonim began to anticipate the bloodshed that was coming and how they would feast on their enemies. Turelim began to prepare their minds for the assault they would lead. They ranks would be the most taxed. Razielim warriors however, sat silent on their horses or standing still, their minds devoid of everything except the coming battle and how they would honor their master.
        It is about to begin. ************************         Lazreon took a deep breath, put the horn to his lips and blew deep. The horn’s sound echoed throughout the valley and the last battle began to unfold. **************************         As the Razielim horn sounded out through the valley, General Loiran sprinted to his King.
“My Lord that signals the vampires charge! We must get you out of this moat.”
“Nonsense” the King told him. “I will stay here with my men and if I die, I will die fighting beside my MEN!!!!” the King roared.
“If you die my Lord, I will die defending you then.” His General told him.
“Come then my loyal General, we must place the last few stakes.”
“Yes my Lord.”
        As they walked off together to place the last few stakes, every human warrior felt his spirit lift, heartened by their King’s display. Every man then prepared himself for the onslaught of the Vampire Army. *********************         As the Turelim warriors began to run towards their enemy, they also began to tap their mental stores of telekinetic energy. These formed great balls of this energy in their mouths which they prepared to fire at the human army. These balls would be deadly to non-vampires and would decimate the front ranks of the humans.
“My warriors, prepare to fire!” Turel yelled at his troops.
“NOW!”
        At that order hundreds of telekinetic energy balls rushed out of the mouths of the Turelim and hit the front ranks of the Human Army. Pieces of armor flew into the air. Human warriors were blown backwards by the force of the energy balls. Almost all of them would not rise again.
“Fortify the lines! Archers ready! Draw your swords! Archers FIRE!!!!” the King roared orders.
        Arrows were fired just as the first Turelim soldiers leaped over the moat. Arrows slammed into the chests of vampires and flung them back into the stakes. Some missed the stakes, others didn’t. However before the archers could reload, another wave of the Turelim came over the moat. **********************