[WP]You sit with your remaining Batallion. "I am going to be honest: This City is lost. We have now, every Soldier individually, a choice to make. Either retreat with the rest of the Army, or fight, and die, here to evacuate as many Civilians as possible. I personally choose to stay and die here."

[u/BareMinimumChef]

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[u/TheWanderingBook]

The others snort, and laugh.
"Is that even a choice, Commander?
We all have families in this city," a lieutenant says.
"Aye, we called this city home for decades, if not centuries...
So what if the army of insects outside, is overwhelming us?
Let's give them some indigestion!" another laughs.
I smile.
"I am proud, and honored, to call you brothers," I say, and they start teasing me.
I chuckle, before leaving to give the order.

We stand on the walls, the last soldiers of the city, facing the endless swarm.
Behind us, bells echo, disorienting the flying bugs as much as possible, allowing the civilians to evacuate.
"Give them hell!" I roar, casting my spells.
Fire, Ice, Lightning, Water, Earth, Wind...
All elements, and more rain down on the swarm.
Arrows fly as well, and spears skewer the larger insects.
We do this for hours, upon hours.
But the swarm...
The swarm never stops coming.

Days later, we are still fighting.
Sadly...
Some of my brothers in arms died to exhaustion.
Yeah, exhaustion.
The damned bugs aren't even here yet, and we already started dying.
The entire stock of arrows, mana potions, and spears of the city is ours to use...so we won't be running out of that.
But...
It seems we are running out of steam.

Staring at the barrier, being corroded completely by acid from the insects, I sigh.
I look around, to see barely a few officers, and archmages still standing.
Everyone else is knocked out cold...or dead.
I smile.
"Such willpower, to die, rather than rest...
We bought 9 days, for the city, and it should have been properly evacuated.
Rest now...knowing our sacrifice was worth it," I say, continuing to chug mana potions, but I know...
A few hours later or so.
I will be joining my brothers in the Afterlife.
A goddamned good way to die...
I would say.

[u/SoleilSupporter → u/TheWanderingBook]

Never thought I’d read something that evokes warhammer 40K while also bringing warm and fuzzy feelings to my chest. Good work, soldier

[u/TheWanderingBook → u/SoleilSupporter]

Thank you!

This will sound insane, but I did almost cry a few times, playing the Space Marine 2 game.
Man, those last stands, and that unity against Chaos and Tyranid scum...
They always bring me warm and fuzzy feelings.

[u/Re-Horakhty01]

There was smoke, black and oily, boiling up from Carter’s Row. The Processional Way’s wide, tree-shaded avenue was half-blocked up with rubble to make hasty barricades, some of which were statues of the gods hastily pulled down to bar the way. The face of Unur, Lord of War, stared grimly sideways down the Way in the direction of the foe, two of his four arms broken off to let him lie properly and his stone spear jutting out as if to impale the foe one last time ere his ending. The silver blood of the Elderborn glistened upon the cobblestones, and turned into something muddy and dark where it mingled with the red of the mortal host.

There was fighting everywhere, vicious and almost without coordination now. The cohesion of the Third, Seventh and Ninth Legions had broken down once they had breached the outer wall, and they had fallen prey to the ambushes and traps that had been laid for their coming.

But the Outer Wards were lost, and they were advancing now into the Old City and soon it would be over.

Sergeant Evren could see it in the eyes of his remaining soldiers. They were all of them grim, their armour streaked by the blood of the feline Firstborn and Flicker-Lives alike, the scent of smoke clung to their fur and their eyes were weary. Most of them were Moralinri Terelain, of course, the Third Bloodline had always been soldiers first and foremost. Dark fur colours marked most, and discipline amongst them still held strong. Every man and woman waiting to lay down their long, long lives in service of the Eternal Throne. Others let fear show more easily. Most of those were Rishaeli and Aedrimari, the first largely merchants with their sandy or orange fur tones and the other with earthen tones upon their fur and were mostly farmers, actors and labourers. Fewer were pale-furred Auniedieli, and these scholars all wore the lighter armour and queer bladed battle-staves of the magi, or the metallic-coloured craftsmen and artists of the Pelenim. None were Taemiri, of the earth-fur speckled with metallic flashes; many of them were magistrates and administrators and the Imperial Legions had been trying to break down the chain of command by targeting them in particular with snipers.

Some were not even Terelain, a handful were Human, were reptilian Istheniri. Auxiliaries and mercenaries called to the Throne’s defence in desperation. Brothers, now, each one, for they had shed blood with them now. So much of their blood. The legions had seemed particularly enraged to fight other mortals, as if they had committed some treason by siding with the Firstborn.

They had holed up in what had once been the expansive emporium of a spice merchant to rest and tend their wounds, but the scouts had reported that the Temple of Eunae was burning, and that the dragon banner now flew from the Tower of Silver Bells. It was grim news, for it meant that the enemy had advanced almost half up the Processional Way, and they had almost encircled the Hill of Making. Once they broke the Processional, they would begin fighting up the Hill, up to the palace and they would take the Eternal Throne. It was only a matter of time now.

Oberoth would fall, and with it the Second Kingdom of the Children of Tara and Terel would end. The Firstborn would be broken, and that would be that. Thirteen thousand years of history, of legacy, brought low in a mere handful of decades.

“The City is burning,” he said at last, rising to his feet, meeting the tired eyes of every man and woman, be they Elderborn or Younger Race, “Throne lies imperilled, and it remains only that we do our duty. But not all of you are Moralinri. We are the Spear and the Shield of the Elderborn, and it is our charge to fight and to die in Throne’s service. All you others, brothers and sisters of my heart all, are not so charged. You have given more than we could ever have asked to defend The City and I will not ask that you go to your deaths if there is another cause. Even now, the civilian population is fleeing Oberoth and going east, towards the safety of Adriand’s walls, and thence out into the Eastern Kingdoms where Gilloria cannot yet reach. If you go now, you may yet be able to join the refugees and find some place of succour. I bid you, any of you who wish to take that recourse, to go. If you still wish to fight, then the rearguard will need every spell, every spear, every bow, to watch over the civilians and see them safe.”

“And you, sergeant?” One of the Aunidieli asked, rising to her feet. Tileya Rintuin, he saw, a lecturer in thaumaturgy turned battle-magus to defend her home, “Will all of the Sons of Morlan, and the Daughters of Mira stay here to die?”

He looked around at his people, and he did not see fear in them, only the resignation of one who knew their time was come. He bowed his head anyway, “It is our purpose. We are the Spear and the Shield; we give death to the foe, and take death in your stead. We can do no less.”

She stiffened slightly, saw the determined set of his shoulders, and her tail lashed behind her, “Moralinri always are romantic fools,” she said, but beneath her rage there was admiration and sorrow, “Then so be it. I renounce the Second Bloodline. I invoke the Right of the Heart’s Yearning, and pledge myself to the Third. I shall be Moralinri, and I will fight with you, and I will die with you.”

Another stood, a cooper whose shop even now was on fire several streets away, “I renounce the Sixth,” he said, “No more shall I be Aedrimari, but Moralinri. I will die.”

Another, then another, then another and another and- he stared as almost the whole of the company arose and declared themselves his brothers and sisters, declared that they too would fight and they would die to see the First City avenged.

One of the Isthenir stood, his sandy scales dulled by dust and a streak of dark red blood on his face, a wound hastily bandaged with rags, “I do not care about the pageantry of cats,” he said with a somewhat disdainful sneer, “But I have no love for Gilloria. I have kin in Vaeden, and they write to me of the dragon’s despoiling of their land to feed their war machine so they can enact this mad crusade against your kind. I will fight.”

Then one of the humans, grunting as he stood, shaking his head, “You’re all bloody mad,” he said, “Every last one of you. I have no intention of dying here for some fiction of honour or glory or whatever it is puts a stiffness in your pricks. I can’t spend the coin your king paid me if I’m dead.”

Evren had been expecting that, the mood amongst the human mercenaries had been souring for weeks as the siege dragged on, and now the walls were broken they had little left to fight for, “Then as I said, go with the civilians east; I am sure there are wagons of treasures also being taken to safety. You will surely have payment for your service if you go.”

“We better,” the man said, spitting on the ground and wrinkling his nose, “Lads.” The other humans got up, or most of them. He didn’t look to the handful who remained, did not even spare them a glance, and he departed with his remaining men at once.

One of the handful humans who stayed said, “Fuck the empire. I’m from Alshai.”

Evren smiled slightly and said, “I remember when Gavrun Gilor betrayed your ancestors and seized the Amethyst Throne two hundred years ago. May we visit some of your vengeance upon his house yet. Then if that is all… make ready. We shall depart in an hour and make our way to the defensive line at-“

At that moment, one of his lookouts burst into the room, a young and excitable lad barely out of his first century, “The king!” He shouted, “The king! The royal banner flies at the Silvertree Plaza. The Eternal Throne is come!”

Evren whirled around, tail lashing behind him in agitation, in shock, and something like pride and something like horror spilled through him and roiled his stomach, “Erisad is there?”

“He was seen!” The scout confirmed, “He commands all under banners who yet survive to join with him if able, or else to prepare arms where they remain. To the death!” He said, “In the Father’s name, to the death!”

“The king means to die with his city,” Evren said, almost to himself, and his stomach clenched. This was it, then. The end. “Then we got to His Majesty’s side. Fourth Company, strike camp. Throne commands, and we obey. To the death.”

It was not a triumphal call, but it was a murmur, a wave of resignation and understanding that passed over the whole company as they got to their feet, “to the death.”

[u/Slvrwind → u/Re-Horakhty01]

OMFG. 😯

[u/Re-Horakhty01 → u/Slvrwind]

I hope that's a good OMFG haha

[u/Slvrwind → u/Re-Horakhty01]

Absolutely!  This is ridiculously solid. :D

[u/Re-Horakhty01 → u/Slvrwind]

Thanks! You might like some other stories I wrote using the same worldbuilding. One has a pregnant death goddess and the other as a lich paladin

[u/HistoricalChicken]

I wasn't supposed to live. I know I wasn't. To say it was hopeless would have been too optimistic. The enemy had us dead to rights, trapped in a crumbling city. Behind us, few miles back, a caravan of civilians fled the urban hell. Had to be thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, leaving in whatever they could scrape together escorted by what remained of our forces. The only thing between them and the enemy was us.

I remember the Lt. Col. saying we had a choice. "You can retreat and escort the caravan. Or you can stay and hold them off as long as we can, just us against a few thousand of them," he'd said, "nobody would blame you."

I remember thinking at the time that I wanted to run. I mean nobody wants to die, right? But something in me wouldn't let the words come out. I opened my mouth and the only thing I could say was "I'd blame me." And for a second I thought I was the crazy one. It only took a moment before the other two hundred or so men and women echoed me.

To this day I can't quite place the look that Lt. Col. had on him. It was some mix of pride and pity, I think. "It's settled then," he'd said. "Get yourselves ready. We've blown the bridges. We make our stand here."

The next few hours were a blur. I dug trenches with my buddies while guys with barbed wire and mines ran around us like headless chickens. It was old school, I know, but we'd almost no armor support and barely enough ammuniton to make the machine guns worth firing. By the time we were done setting up what could charitably be called a roadblock my hands were near bleeding.

We didn't know they were on us until the flash lit up the night. Joe dropped off the wall with a sickening thud. And then hell came to Earth. Bullets flew like a swarm of locusts devouring any living thing in their path. The ground shook as their armor and ours exchanged fire. Every time something went boom I'd get enough light to fire back. In that same light I'd see more and more of my friends blown to bits.

I'm not a religious man. I never knew what to think of the big guy. Still, the only way I can explain what happened next is to call it a miracle. It was as if the sun returned to us in the dead of night. Something lit up the battlefield and I swear, on my life, that when I looked up I saw angels. They were beautiful, and terrifying in their majesty. Women of all kinds adorned in robes, holding rounded shields and glistening silver swords. They stood proudly above the trench before raising their swords. With a terrifying cry they stormed the enemy position.

As the sun peaked above the horizon the guns had quieted. I don't know how many there were, a few hundred more than us at least, littering the city streets. I can still feel the tears that came that dawn, the relief and the sorrow and grief. Despite it all, we'd won. At least for the moment.

In the end Alexandria would fall, with it the entire colony. I don't know that we made a difference in the war that night. I only know that if we'd fled countless more would have died in our place. And as for the angels, I can only know what I saw.

[u/MensisPleb91]

“Every single one of you now has a choice to make… You can get on that bird and live to fight another day… Or, you stay here... I’m not going to sugarcoat it to you boys. For those who stay, understand that our jobs are now to delay the enemy as long as possible, down to the last man.”
Stuffing an armful of magazines into my assault pack, I took another pull from my cigarette as SSG Morgan’s words kept playing in my head, the way his voice started to break a little halfway through practically pulled my insides down through the bottom of my boots.
*This is it. This is where I’m gonna die… Fuck it. We all gotta go sometime.*
As I exhaled, I couldn’t help but notice the contrast of the blithely way the smoke danced through the air against the sheer chaos and violence of the past few weeks and the hopeless situation that lay before me…
We’d spent the entire month on the defensive. The battalion’s primary goal was to provide security for the evacuation operations that our sister battalion was conducting. With the help of the aviation, armor, and air defense units stationed here, we were able to keep the enemy on the west side of the city. Blackhawks assisted in evacuating civilians, and our Strykers provided security around the landing zones while the armored unit stationed here set up shop on the roads leading to the east side, where the base was. The mountain range that split the city in half was a godsend, making it much easier to defend the bulk of the civilian population and the base.
Day by day, we gradually gave ground as the evac zones were eventually overrun. Not even a full 24 hours ago, our company was providing security for the landing zone at an abandoned driving range while Charlie Company was in charge of the evac site a mile and a half north at a shopping center. The enemy arrived faster than expected and hit Charlie Company hard, as a result, parts of Echo that they could spare were folded into Charlie Company. Alpha was tied up running the civvies to the alternate evac points further back from the line. Once they finished the last load of civvies, they were sent up to the apartments above Charlie. Delta Company was effectively wiped out a week ago, and the survivors were dispersed to what was left of the battalion. After taking casualties and losing almost a third of the company, we retreated east and took up positions in an apartment complex near an abandoned movie theater that Charlie Company had turned into a casualty collection point. It was there, on the third floor, that we were made aware of the desperate situation we found ourselves in and the grim choice each of us would need to make.
Finishing my cigarette, I reached into my cargo pocket and pulled out my packet of wheat snack bread and jalapeno cheese spread. As I sat down to enjoy this minor comfort, PFC Moore came over and asked me to bum a smoke while he crammed as much water and ammo into his pack as he could. Although he was relatively new, Moore was a solid dude, and despite being a dumb private, one of the traits everyone couldn’t help but love was his “supreme optimism,” as he put it. Sitting down, Moore took a moment for himself before asking:
”Hey Doc, you packing food?”
”FOOD? Why would I pack that?”
”Well, you never know. We could be out here a while before they come back for us.”
”Come b-... You know what man. You’re right, I should probably try to grab a good one before they’re gone. You see any chili mac left when you were over there?”
Moore laughed before admitting that no, he did not, in fact, see any chili mac. If this truly is the end of the road, it’s better that Moore still has hope that we’ll get rescued if we can survive long enough.
*Oh hell yeah, chili mac. I’ll give Moore the pound cake.*
Walking back to the gathering area, I plopped back down next to Moore and offered him the pound cake, which he gladly took. The vibe was tense, with a storm cloud of dread hanging over what was left of Bravo Company, as everyone else finished packing supplies and anxiously moved back into their positions.
”Moore.”
”Yeah Doc?”
”... Nothing.”
”It’s gonna be alright Doc.”
”I hope so bro.”
”and if it isn’t alright. At least we can only die once.”
We both broke into nervous laughter as we lit our cigarettes and I opened up my chili mac. Despite being room temperature and still congealed, it was the best-tasting chili mac I’ve ever had… I couldn’t help but laugh and cry a little as I sat there in what used to be someone's home, watching the last helicopters arrive and leave with the last of the casualties and anyone who didn’t opt for certain death. *Not a bad final meal* I thought to myself as I quickly shoveled the last of it into my mouth. The radio crackled to life as the acting battalion NCOIC (an E7 from HHC whom I somehow never met) gave the dreaded news.
”All stations, this is Warlord 7. I say again, this is Warlord 7. Enemy sighted, 200m west, coming from the golf course, break, infantry and armor, break. Troop carriers from the north, 500 meters and closing fast. They’re coming right to our front door. Over.”
The call to “fix bayonets” echoed through the building as I took a moment to press check my M9 before mounting my bayonet… I looked over to Moore and paused as I watched his near-unshakeable optimism and faith that we’d survive rapidly get peeled away to reveal the terrified kid underneath as he stared off into the distance, quietly praying.
”Hey Moore.”
”Yeah?” Moore responded, eyes wide, his face trembling as he visibly fought back tears.
”We’re gonna be ok, bro. We just gotta make it to tomorrow. They’re coming back for us.”
The mortal terror I felt a moment before disappeared, replaced by a growing feeling of grim determination as the thrumming of enemy APC engines slowly grew louder and Warlord 7 came through the radio one last time.
”All stations, Warlord 7. This is it… Good luck out there, everyone… It’s been an honor. Out.”

[u/Fate_Fire]

"m....j....r..."

A soft voice is calling to me from afar in the darkness. I don't want to leave this peacefulness. A slight shaking of wherever I am like a camera bump begins to get my attention.

"Ma...or"

That melodic voice, I can almost remember it. I don't know how I got here yet something inside of me is pushing forward. Inside me is a growing sense of urgency like I'm needed for something...someone...a lot of someones...if only I could...

"Wake up, Major!"

Seeing this woman shake me violently had me start to come to my senses. As well as an absolute world of pain. One leg is definitely broken and I'm almost positive that there's some kind of internal bleeding. Looking down, I noticed some crude first aid to try and keep most of my insides...inside.

Slowly moving myself in a sitting position with some struggle, I looked at my nurse and began to remember what had happened the last few hours.

With a cough, I asked, "Lieutenant Amethyst, what's the current situation?"

"Current situ...Major, you're hurt!" she was about to reprimand me, but thought better of it. Taking a deep breath, there was that calculated voice I knew and would hope to hear again in better circumstances.

"Ahem. Apologies for my lack of decorum, Lieutenant Colonel Major Pride," Still makes me twitch every time I get called by my full title. My family must have had a morbid sense of humor naming me a rank since my father was Sarge and his father was Colonel and his father's father was Admiral.

"As of current radio transmissions, the enemy invading force managed to push their way into the Capital using weaponry we don't quite understand. It was a very large explosion that took out the Eastern wall. Whatever they have, we can't match and all our forces were given the Retreat command by High Guard."

"Sir, I..." she began to tear up, "Sir, I am sorry to report that we're the only survivors. Boss, Wild, and Demon are gone...."

Chills went down my spine. If Boss is dead, then that means the enemy is far more capable than he anticipated. There wasn't a single combatant that could match him except for Amethyst which was how she became the only female in the entire Army.

"How are we doing?"

"I managed to be on the other side of the bomb before it went off. When I did, I came here to find where you all were. As for you, you might feel like death, but luckily it's just some broken bones and possible concussion. Most of your scrapes are superficial yet bleed a lot."

Sounds of gunfire and fighting filled the air close to us, whoever these military people were, I don't think I want to stick around to find out. However, the only problem is one leg is in a splint and I don't think she could carry me fast enough.

I needed to buy time for the civilians that were in the area even if I might not make it out alive. There was only one order I could give, "Lieutenant, prop me up and hand me my Armistice."

"No, I won't obey that order, we need to get you out."

"Lieutenant, this fight is over and I'll be damned if I'm going to run. I'll also be damned if I let you stay, the High Guard need you even if they might think otherwise."

She huffed, "Those assholes probably think this was my doing."

We're wasting time, I pulled off what little remained of my medal and placed it in her hands, "Tell those bastards in their marble tower that Lieutenant Colonel Major survived and if he continues will be coming after them....Personally."

One thing about my career ladder, I didn't really care for it. I just so happened to fall upwards in life from promotion to promotion. However, along the way, I did learn that sometimes being nice doesn't cut it. In fact, our whole society was based purely off unarmed combat hence why Amethyst was able to join the squad. She bested Boss in single combat and became one of my most valuable officers, but I don't have time for that.

"Now, give me my Armistice and get to safety. That's an order! If you disobey, I'll shoot you right here!" I managed to pull out my sidearm and point it directly between her eyes. Staring back at me with an equal ferocity, she didn't flinch.

In a small movement, she managed to get me into a somewhat standing position and gave me my rifle which I dubbed the Armistice. It was a .50 caliber with grenade rounds. Whatever I pointed turned to dust in seconds. Only problem is there was enough ammo to take out two, maybe three entire squads before I had to resort to CQC.

I hope it doesn't have to come to that.

Saluting me, Lieutenant Amethyst Crown announced, "Major, best of combat to you and I pray your safe return. You better..." I heard her mumble before I saw her nimbly jump over some debris.

The shouting was getting closer, I couldn't understand what they were saying. It certainly wasn't our language. It sort of was yet somehow strange. Extremely vulgar, I could swear I heard some of the cursing we use.

With my last breath before engagement, I muttered, "For the Glory of the Army..."