Blood runs down your arms, most of it not your own. A bloody spear is held tightly in your hands, with the tip stuck inside the torso of an enemy soldier. It takes a while to yank it out, but eventually you pull it free and push past the corpse, moving onto the next. The clash of metal against metal, of metal against wood, and of metal against flesh fills the air. You are surrounded by men wearing the same brownish green uniform you are, as well as men wearing a black and gold uniform. These two sides are clashing against each other, and you are amongst the chaos, dispatching foes with your spear. A pattern seems to be building as you thrust the spear into the vital organs of your enemy, yank it free, and move on to the next.
These doesn't continue for long as a pain begins to build in your chest. It feels as if someone is ripping it open, and you look down to see a handful of arrows sprouting from where your heart and lungs are. Where they were, anyway. You don't really feel the spear that grazes your neck, or the sword that tears your hamstring as you start to fall, unable to resist gravity any longer. As you collide with the ground your vision fades into black.
Then there is a bright light.