The sound of legions, marching as one across the fields, sent a shiver down his spine. He knew that he was going to die within hours, but he was not afraid. Though he was not dead yet, his life had ended two days earlier. They had received news that their entire village had been burnt to the ground by the Romans. There had been no survivors. Men, woman and children had been burnt alive.
"They never stood a chance," the soldier next to him said out loud.
He was right. They never stood a chance. All ablebodied men in the village had joined up and were trying to defend the border. They would soon reunite with their loved ones, but they would not give up without a fight.
The sound of marching, the sound of their death, came ever closer. Soon the battle would commence. They were outnumbered, ten-to-one or more. Their only advantage was their lack of fear. Death would be a liberation, whereas their enemy, the Romans, had their wives and children to consider. They feared death and the fear would make them wounerable.
"Fight with proud, fight with honour, fight without mercy, fight the oppression, death to Ceasar," the chanting spread amongst the doomed soldiers. They were weary and many of them wounded, all of them dead men walking, but they would make a last stand.
The rain poured down on the field, the battle-ground-to-be, and made it all into mud. This was not the first battle to take place at the scene. Years earlier, the Romans had been stopped at this very field. That time, the opposition had been superior, both in numbers and in skills. Now, the Romans had struck down their enemys one by one and this was just the final obstacle in their way north.
Soldiers praying, soldiers with tears in their eyes, soldiers with nothing but vengeance on their minds. They were all waiting, holding their positions; they were going to die by Roman hands, but at least on this field Roman blood would be spilled as well.
"Fight till your last breath, kill as they have killed, send them to hell!" The sceam rose from the middle of the first row and the rest joined in as they repeated this mantra, over and over again.

The Romans were upon them, the end was near.