I must try and match my clone in every way possible.
A battle raged under the smoldering heat of the volcano, where a mile away watched a cloaked figure clutching a walking stick with his old, gnarled hands. He stoop at the edge of a plateau, far enough from the fiery mountain so that he remained unharmed. The participants in the battle were hardly as fortunate; both Men and Goblin were smelled with volcanic rock, ash, and molten magma shot out from the spout of the volcano like a firecracker. Ironic, since old man was in the same mood as a child at a fair. He felt no sorrow for the Men, who fought for their own safety rather than that of others. The goblins had crushed various kingdoms, and never had this fighting force come to their aid. Only when the threat was at their doorstep, did the selfish fools take arms. It was not surprising, for the old man had never seen a human act selflessly- thus, he felt no sorrow for them.
A volley of arrows struck the charging goblins, annihilating the unfortunate ones who weren't carrying a shield. Another wave of projectiles followed, and half the Goblin front were now corpses. The Men cheered, and the goblins slowed down, as shielded goblins took the front and started marching in a slow and steady pace, arrows deflected by their shields. Unfortunately for them, the warriors of the Civilized Lands had another trick up their sleeve. Pikemen took the front, and the Men ran the distance separating them from the advancing goblins. They skewered the shield-bearers through seems in their wall of metal, and soon they were exposed. The fight raged on, as swords were drawn and both sides clashed, the volcano reaped destruction amongst them, adding to the chaos. The old man clapped his hands giddily; the greedy humans would burn! It did not matter if they won or not, both sides had lost many and the battle was still in full force.
As the ranks thinned on both sides, the old man spotted something odd at the rear of the Goblin army. Advancing through the crowd, a demon approached. Its red scales glistened, and his black eyes showed only a lust for blood. The goblins cleared away, leaving a direct path to the Men for their demon. The monstrous being started to pick up speed, and his trot turned into a full-out charge. At the sight of the nightmarish creature, the Men started to flee. Goblins cheered at the sight of the cowering humans, but the old man sensed a powerful willpower amongst the Men.
He was not mistaken; pushing through the ranks of the Men was a young man clad in rusted armor, a sword outstretched in front of him. He was somewhat smaller than the others, and could not be seen from the Goblin perspective. The demon could not see him either. Having seen the fleeing humans, the hellish monster charged head-on, roaring in fury to intimidate the Men- he did not think he would meet any resistance.
Sadly, he was mistaken.
The young man, no older than fifteen, stood with his sword pointed in front of him. The demon continued his charge, bellowing in anger, unable to see the crouching human. The distance between the two shortened drastically by the second, and at the last moment the young human leaped up and pierced the demon through the chest with his sword. The monster continued his charge for a dozen meters, the man dangling from the blade he still clutched. Finally, the demon collapsed. Trapped underneath the monster, the battered boy yelped in pain and then shut his eyes, consciousness slowly escaping him. The old man was dumbstruck; how could the weak human think he stood a chance against the monster? Why did he risk his life doing something so foolish? For the first time in his life, the old man saw a selfless act. He saw a Hero, yet he didn't know it right then and there.
Thus, the battle ended. The Men had already fled, and the Goblin were making camp; obviously planning their next attack. A few scrawny looking goblins scavenged the battlefield the battle, grabbing weapons and even flesh from the fallen Men and Goblin. One of them came upon the fallen demon, and underneath him the barely conscious boy. Raising his pike, the goblin snickered at the thought of being able to murder him. Just as he was about to bring it down, he was struck dead by a wooden stave. The old man leaned down near the boy and dragged him out from underneath the demon. Effortlessly, he slung him over his shoulders and hastily left the desolate plains.
He made his way towards the nearest village, several leagues away. The journey wasn't long, and the entire time the young boy seemed in good condition, despite being wounded and unconscious. Arriving in the village, the old man brought the boy to the Town Doctor, vaguely explaining what had happened. The Doctor took the young man, and the old man left.
The next morning, the old man headed into the village to see the boy. Upon arrival at the Doctor's home, he was informed that the boy had died.
For the first time in his life, the old man felt sorrow for a human...
He felt sorrow for a Hero.