Patrick had no memory of who he once was, his name, nothing.
He woke up covered in dirt. Spitting dirt out of his mouth , and shaking his head to clear his ears. He noticed his neck hurt. Rubbing it with his left hand, he looking around. Still on his ass he wiped his lap clean of dirt. Then checked his underwear, they weren't full of shit , so he wasn't dreaming. It was dark and he finally noticed where he had being laying. It was a shallow grave, the gravestone had one word, Patrick. That must be me he said outloud. Patrick, I like it. Pat, pataroony, the patster. Naw , Patrick well do just fine.
Standing to his feet he noticed he was wearing a military uniform. Great he said , I am a soldier? Seeing a helmet next to the grave ,he picked it up , put it on and said , im British i guess. It was to dark to see any further than a few meters. He could see more gravestone's around himself nothing beyond that. Looking around more he found a rut sack , leaning up against a brick wall he found a rifle, and some ammunition. He noticed he was wearing a blue arm band on his left arm. He didnt know what it ment. Or who gave it to him. The light in this place was very low, he couldn't see any stars or the moon. Looking in the found rut sack , he found a canteen full of water a map of something, he couldn't tell what it was , looked like Stonehenge but bigger. There was a compass that just spun in circles so useless. Some flares, binoculars and a whistle. He didn't know why but he hated that whistle. Taking a drink from the canteen. Then slung it over his head and across his shoulders. It felt natural. Digging in the rut sack some more he found a torch . At least I could see in this dark place he mumbled. There were more things in the sack but they didn't interest him just then. Slinging it over his back, he grabbed the Enfield rifle , checked the bolt action, chamber was clear. He racked a round. Then flicked the safety. With his new found gear he felt safer and tried to gather information on where he was. He found a path down below the spot he woke up at. It went left and right. He put that to memory and went back up to where he woke up. Traveling past it for a minute or so and he ran into another brick wall. He discovered it was part of the brick wall next to where he had woken. There was a dog lag there and it went off to the left for who knows how long. He followed the wall back to where he started and had a mental picture of some of his surroundings. It seemed he was on a mound next to this wall that was two meters high and wrapped around. To where it wrapped he didn't know. Also there was a pathway below him that went in two different directions. He sat on the grave he woke up in and took another drink of water. Amazingly he wasn't hungry. Maybe he didn't have to eat in this place. He took his rut sack off quickly and rummage through it frantically. Oh thank God he said outloud. He found tissue paper. This made him happy. As long as I got ass wipe he thought.
This place is unusual and had a funny sent in the air. It reminded him of a cemetery, he then said out loud what the fuck is a cemetery? Why was his memory so bad , what happened to him and his neck hurt. He was a soldier but more then that he had no papers to say what mission he was on , if any. Or what theater of operations he was at , or what War he was in . It was all peculiar, Very peculiar. Turing out his torch to reserve battery power. He sat in the very low light at the grave he woke up in and just waited for the sun to come up . If there was a sun in this place. He nodded off, he dreamed of nothing , the only thing he seen in his dream if it could be called a dream was a sword and this repetitive voice saying, retrieve the sword and win the prize over and over. It pissed him off, he wanted to dream of tits and nakied women named Dawn but no, all he got was this as stupid voice saying get this sword and win a prize. What a drag. He had a rifle , what good is a sword against a 303 British Enfield bolt action battle rifle? He asked himself in his dream, then he snaped awake. Looking around he didn't see or hear anything. Nothing , the sun still hadn't come up yet.. I'll stay here until I can get a better idea of the layout in this place. It dosent seem dangerous, but I better keep my wits about me. Without information, I'm lost . Fuck I'm lost anyway so . Hunch down here , until day break and get some better information. He sipped fom his canteen again and noticed it was full again. It wasn't half empty like it was earlier. What the fuck was that he thought, how did it refill itself. Only if it was whiskey instead of water , he started laughing at that notion. Still he wasn't hungry either. Looking back in the rut sack he noticed the tissue supply wasn't big enough for anyone , not even one person . There was just enough maybe for one or two shits and whiping your nose a few times. Who packed this rut sack he mumbled. Fucking idiot. Then he took out the map aging and started to get a better look. It was empty except this one spot where a diamond shaped symbol was , and a few open spots near it. He looked closer then realize it was where he was sitting and the parts on the map was where he had explored earlier. There was the pathway just below him , the brick wall to his left and the dog leg as it continues going to the left behind him . It was everywhere he had gone. He began to panic this wasn't possible. Looking at the map even closer he could see markers , a circle and a square. The circle wasn't to far off but the square was. Judging by the distance he had already traveled he guessed the circle was about a two kilometers do east as he guessed it. And the square , it was about ten kilometers do north as best he could determine . It felt north and east to him . So what should I do , maybe follow the path below him and go left , do east to the circle and see what it was. It was a good plan as any . Only thing was there was no light very low light , he couldn't see more then a few meters and that was dangerous. He could creep right up someone's ass with out knowing it . Bad for both parties he said out loud. He had no watch so he had no idea of the time. Obviously night it was dark, but who's knows for sure? Fuck he mumbled. Fuck , fuck, fuck fuck. This wasn't the ideal situation, unknow territory, unknow enemies and unknown mission. What the fuck was he supposed to do.
Clicking his tongue and picking his nose , he decided to just sit tight and wait. That was the best plan , in an unknow situation. Wait for light and then do some reconnaissance. So he sat in the grave he woke up in and fell back asleep. For Hell he thought , it wasn't so bad , instead of south of France , he was South of Heaven, and so far it didn't suck ass. He giggled to himself, I died and went to Hell and all I got was this damn uniform. Then fell asleep.
Patrick woke to a loud siren, it sounded like an air raid siren, when it stopped. Far in north a bright light shined, he frantically dug through his rut sack and found the binoculars. He focused them in and what he saw was beyond his understanding. A man all in white , on a white horse, on top of a hill. Using his binoculars and judging the hight he called hill 721. 721 meters high , roughly, seven kilometers south. All of a sudden he could hear grunts and screams, hollering, different languages. Then a trumpet sounded. Three times. What the fuck was happening? He said out loud. He looked through the binoculars again at the white horsemen , he watched as he got off his horse , removed a large sword from a sheath on the horse and drove it deep into a stump. Then the white horsemen yelled so loud he could hear it from where he was . Here it is you bloody cocksuckers, only have to take it and become my brother. So who has the power to wield this sword. When the arrows stop shining bright, began. Only the most clever can make it here and only the most bold can weild the Prize.
He then pulled the long bow from his back and shot a dozen or more arrows off in a second. They went high in the air, the dropped back down. Then exploded, one by one, like Starburst Artillery flairs. The entire area lite up . Patrick could see everything. Including what was making all them noises. There were zombies and werewolves, giants, trolls, beasts, and men like him a lot of them from across the world he recognized, samurai and Zulu warriors, vikings and armored Knights. This was crazy. Who were all these fucking fools anyway . He climbed to the top of the brick wall to get a better vantage point and he seen something that froze in his tracks, Demons, horned demons, and snake like demons . More that looked like mouths with legs and a tail no eyes. He couldn't imagine such horrors, yet there they were. He was surrounded by every manner if monster. The first arrows went dim , the the rest . It was dark again. Patrick jumped down off the wall to where he woke up and felt like crawling back into it. But there was this pull this drive to get that sword and claim it as his prize. The last arrow went dark , then a rumbling , no a earthquake was approaching. He hunkered down in his grave as all these beasts and monsters and men stampede over him . He held his helmet on tight and weathered it. Trolls and giants jumped over hords of creatures. Then the fireworks started huge fireballs shot across the air , exploding into walls of beasts and men went flying. Lighting crashed and jumped across the monsters frying them into ash. Massive bear like things , on fire trampled over scores of zombies and knights in armor, it was chaos. Patrick look on with uncertainty, uncertainty that he even had a chance to reach the prize with all these things out there. How was he supposed to kill a troll with his little old Enfield rifle? He asked himself. I dont even have gernads or mortars. Fuck don't even have Artillery for fucks sake. A snake like demon slithered next to him, ignoring him and attacking some monsters, he began to see a pattern , they were gathering up , same type creatures and monsters, teaming up. Zombies in hords , taking out giants and monsters. Men taken to assemble. They had powerful weapons, long pikes , bowmen and armored knight's these groups held there own . Then the sound of barking machine gun fire filled his ears. Off in the distance but sure enough machine guns. Everyone fighting , desperately trying to survive. Some working together, for survival others were powerful enough by themselves that they didn't need anyone or anything to protect them . These were the big beasts and monsters as well as the demons. The chaotic fighting went on for hours and hours before it started to slow down , there were distinct camps. Four different groups had rallied together for a common purpose. It wasn't survival of the fittest as one might think , it was survival of the collaborative groups. Patrick had seen enough he had a good idea of all the players and the ones that woukd be the most troublesome as well as the ones who had useful attributes, such as magic and air born attackers. These were mostly beasts and monsters, but who's to say he couldn't befriend one of them. It seemed to him he had a dog once . Not much difference, just show dominance and leadership, bing, bang ,boom. Have them wrapped around his finger. He laughed to himself, and said now you're lying to yourself , fuck me. There wasn't any other better plan , so Patrick went off in the direction of the monsters and beasts to tame them or wipe them from this game. He figured something out as the herd was culled. Fewer and fewer participants remained, the more powerful they become. He didnt need to look through the binoculars anymore to see for away. He could see in the dark now too. He also could feel the strength in his body. To test this , he would try it out on the monsters first. Monster hunting time. Digging in his rut sack he pulled out two sets of brass knuckles. Then clashed then together, no sparks , hmm , no sparks Patrick noticed, what the fuck. Oh well , it's clobbering time, then he jumped through the air , as if he was shot out a cannon. Rifle and rut sack slung to his back, canteen around his neck , blue handkerchief on his left arm , British helmet on , chin straps tight, and packing brass knuckles. Let the game begin. Only the clever and the bold will claim the prize. War dosent always favor the stronge and mighty. War is a game of information and logistics. Who's knows the most , and who is best suppled. War is HELL.