The night was falling on the outskirts of the village of Peshmi. A great host of men had made camp there, waiting for a single man to bring them the word to charge, liberate the village and kill anyone who opposes their righteous cause. The men weren't nerveous. They knew they did not only outnumber their enemy, but were also clad in steel that would be nearly imprevious to the blows of the rusty farming tools their enemies were armed with. There was certain tension though as they waited for the man who had gone to talk with the lord of the village. Knowing their general the men were not expecting anything but a bloodbath. He was not known for his diplomatic skills.
The word spread to the whole camp quickly when the sentries saw the general Olwen Lamhban arrive on his black stallion. The tension became almost unbearable when he rode his horse to the tent where the officers of his army were waiting. His favourite comrade, Elmokki Krokotiili, reached general Lamhban to caress his thick hair and kiss his battle hardened neck, but instead he gasped when the news were told. "By Gnjus' nose!" the lemon tree warrior Dado exclaimed. It was unthinkable that their general, who everyone had pleaded to not conduct any kind of diplomacy, had actually managed to solve the situation by the means of diplomacy in a way that was only beneficial for the United Democratic National Workers Salvation Front for Liberation of Calradia.
Surprise was an understatement of the reaction witnessed when the news were told to the army, but there was also dissapointment. The men had been expecting a fight worth telling tales of back at their homes, should they ever see them again in this life. The mood was lifted as fast as it had fallen, however, when the host marched to the village of Peshmi where both innocent virgins of both genders were throwing themselves into the arms of their liberators. This would be a pleasant place to rest waiting for the next march to the next glorious battle.
(I had fulfill my promise, sorry)
