I'm drunk.
I wrote something (no editing).
Tell me if Its good or if I'm a faggot.
The multiple and's in some sentences are intentional so fuck off.
>
“I will be the end of this”.

Is what Hannet thought as he confidently steps infront of his ranks and through the swirling blood sand barrier.
His own shield protects him.
He throws 3 blood iron blades into the oncoming crowd of Mammakla, and misses with every one.
Hannet looks at his hands, they are shaking, “why?”
The Mammakla however, did not miss Hannet.
His right side is slammed with heavy metal fire and every ounce of naiive courage is burnt away with its crushing impact.
“I am enlightened” Hannet thinks instinctively, not questioning why or how the words come to. mind.
Looking up he sees a wall of fire, and metal, and men, and blood.
Looking down he sees fire, and mud and dead men, and his blood.
Hot blood dripping and hot blood burning from his right arm and breast.
His fingers twitch in pain as his arm sits stiff while flecks of fire burn out on his cherry pink and coal black skin.
Hannet gives in and his knees follow suit, falling upon then in the burning crimson mud.
3 porcelain armor tiles remain, stuck to his flesh.
The rest of his pretty new armor and coats sleeve burnt away instantly when the Mammakla’s blood struck.
“I knew nothing, and now I bleed for it” thinks hannet.
Rather poetically seeing as in that precise moment a mammaklas blade pierces his stomach.
In turn another blade pierced the mammakla’s stomach as well, from behind.
The figure wielding the second blade grabs him by the collar of his breast plate then throws Hannet with remarkable force out of the fray.
Landing in a different pile of mud and blood, he begins to cry.