Perhaps You Aren’t As Dead (As You Thought You Were)
Ithanar Islesun isn’t surprised.
He wasn’t surprised then either.
Why would he be?
The undead using living bodies as a shield, literally and metaphorically, is a tactic he has seen on a variety of occasions; sometimes even the Forsaken had dealt in such measures, not half but fully, a devastating thing to opponents more humane than most.
It was a word that didn’t, and would never, apply to the Legion nor their undead slaves in whatever remained of the Scarlet Crusade.
The Sunguard though? Now… that was different.
Perhaps not all of them were alive and breathing, no, but they were people.
He thinks back for a moment on the beginning of the night’s siege, on how members of his squad had responded to the challenge-on-top-of-a-challenge; of both saving Argent lives and capturing the heart of Tyr’s Hand.
(Thanidiel was owed a drink.
Or three… for doing what she did.
Perhaps it was duty, but she saved more lives than perhaps she thought but so Ithanar knew.)
It was a no-win situation.
War is always a no-win situation.
Even in winning, you lose… but such was the way of things, of a great many things.
Thoughts return to the the events leading up to the battle; to how a few of the Sunguard showed little compassion in the moment, how some did not even consider the idea of trying to perhaps cut loose some of the slaves as they waged war upon the ramparts, of how many-
<“You’ve grown something soft, Islesun.”>