The field is littered with wounded fighters, carnage and destruction. Red, black and brown are the new colors of what was once a vast, tender field, which has now become the stage of a devastating conquests.
The air which would normally be fresh and smell of nature's wonders is now a hellish symphony of screams with barbarians and wizards, there's no coming back from this.
Two parties fight each other for independance, but the victor is obvious. The dead of the losing side are spread around the field and the faces of the fighters are grim with anguish and despair, they continue to fight, but their fight is a hopeless one.
With the thought of victory in their minds the winning side fights with new found strength. Some have succumbed to rage and are carelessly charging any enemy without a care for their own safety, while others fight on in the hopes to survive this terror.
The toll on both nature and humanity is devastating. It'll likely take decades before this field will have recovered. It's clear debris, bodies and lost hope have taken the place of trees, shrubs and grass.