[center][h1][i][b]The Forsaken[/b][/i][/h1][/center]

[i][b]4 hours ago...[/b][/i]
Otto sat idle upon a black horse, overlooking the march of men below.  He watched as the banners of the Teutonic army fluttered violently in the high winds, as if they'd be torn from their standard.  It was already cold, but he knew that come nightfall it would get worse.  Prussians, Estonians, Livs, and members of the Livonian Order marched on slowly.  It was a few hours past noon, and Otto deduced they were behind schedule; this sudden approach of cold made matters worse.  He could see in the distance a storm was coming.  His commander, Leopold von Kassel, mustered up what men he could in the northeastern territories of the Teutonic State, and was attempting to reinforce Bernhard von Zinnenberg, who commanded the Teutons in Chojnice.

[i]The Poles will pay,[/i] he thought to himself, scowling at the thought of his enemy.  The Battle of Grunwald, which saw the defeat of the Teutonic Order at the hands of Poland and her allies, was only 44 years ago.  The defeat had come 9 years before Otto had even been born, but just hearing stories about it was enough to make Otto hate the Poles.  The Teutonic Order had come to the region at Poland's request, and there they could rightfully fight the pagans.  But Poland, terrible Poland, who laughably called herself a Christian nation, went against the Order.  All of the men who were lost, all of the resources wasted, all this time spent in vain; the Order should be out fighting the Baltic pagans, stemming the tide of the heretic Christians out east, or quelling rebellions, not dealing with these spiteful Poles!

It would probably snow soon, or at least Otto thought so, what with the storm rising on the horizon.  [i]Should find Leopold[/i], he thought, [i]time to set up camp[/i].  As he veered his horse around, he spotted a single snowflake - the first of many to touch the ground.

[hr]

[i][b]6 PM[/b][/i]
The blizzard came without warning.  Not even thirty minutes ago, a howling cyclone of frigid winds descended upon the Teutonic army.  Snow whipped around violently, plastering itself to Otto's mail and garbs; large balls of hail dinged off of his helmet.  He held his plated hand ahead of him to keep the snow from blinding his eyes, but it hardly worked.  Surprisingly, the snow in the air was so thick he could not even see his hand from a foot away.  Not even the head of his horse remained visible.

"Leopold!"  He cried out loudly, but the winds were so strong that he was barely audible; no one could hear him.  His horse staggered, neighed, grunted, and struggled in the storm.  Ultimately the horse gave up and fell to its knees.  "No!  No!" Otto failed to bring the horse back to its feet, but this weather was to much to bear and it collapsed, throwing Otto into a bed of snow.  He had never been so cold in his life, and the stiffness of it all made it difficult to get on his feet.  He kept moving, not wanting to stay still.

After a few steps he began to question the direction he was headed.  He could have swore his allies were just ahead, but when the storm hit he became blind and never saw them again.  So he just kept walking, and walking.  [i]Crunch![/i]  There was something in the snow.  He bent down and dug in the area to feel something hard.  He made out a helmet, and inside a frozen corpse.  "Help me God," he said in disbelief.  He tugged the helmet from the body and brought it to his face.  He had to bring it within six inches of his eyes to even make out what kind of helmet it was.

"Oh!"  He threw the helmet away upon the revelation that it was a Polish helmet.  Quickly climbing back to his feet, he could just barely make out the silhouette of another person a few feet away.  "Hey!  Who goes there?"  He attempted to draw his sword, but it was frozen in its scabbard; he nevertheless kept his hand on it as a warning.  "Identify yourself!" he hollered as loud as he could in the terrible storm.