The Martyr

Every struggle, in the end, requires sacrifice. However, some sacrifices are dearer than others.

--Zoraidia the Sage
Just once more, she thought as she propped herself up with her spear, its haft firmly planted in the ground.

Just get up once more. Then I can rest.

It had taken the last of her strength, but they had reached the safety of the temple. She glanced back over her shoulder. A faint smile curved her mouth as she gazed at the stone, carved and crafted as only the Stoneforged could manage. As beautiful and as unshakable as their faith. She nodded to the priests standing in the doorway, and they nodded in return, before closing and barring the heavy oak doors.

The gods will not abandon me, so I shall not abandon them.

From nearby came a low growling, and she lifted her head to see a pack of wilderness abominations slinking toward her, their eyes feral and hungry. It mattered not. The priests would be safe. Here, with the gods watching, she would make her stand.

Ignoring the blood that streamed down her face, forcing away the pain from wounds too numerous to count, an unspoken prayer on her lips, the Stoneforged soldier pushed herself to her feet once again and leveled her spear.

Just once more...