The blood letters a teaser

Likken sat quietly in the pool of blood under him, he had escaped the immediate threat but it was only a matter of time until they found him. He had managed to make his way into the carrier room in a last attempt to send a message out to head quarters, in the distant background echoes of unspeakable noises penetrated the gray cinderblock walls. Slowly he stood and leaned on the nearest table blood dripping from his coat tail, pooling below him. Gradually he reached for the nearest paper grunting in pain as the flesh around his wounds were stretched to their limits, slowly tearing open more.
He let out a sigh and a small laugh, how could this have happened? They covered every track hit every mark, where could this technology to do such devastating damage had come from? There was no record of it no prior warning to the devastating power of the armies of Vlanmos. Likken grabbed a quill and attempted to smudge the fresh blood from his hand in order to preserve the readability of the paper under him. He looked around the room, there was no ink, he looked to the ceiling and cursed the heavens above him they had managed to screw him one last time, “Figures, gods never have liked me.” Grimacingly he bent down and dipped the quill in the blood of his very wounds beneath his feet. The information on the page was scattered, the thoughts of a dying man put on paper never offer much comfort in knowledge. Sighing Likken stumbled to the cages managing to attach the note to a leg of a carrier pigeon letting it free into the brisk night the last hope for his brethren in the north.
Slowly he slid down the wall to a sitting position soggy and matted from the mix of mud and blood against his flesh. “How the hell did this happen, it was all so perfect, we nearly won.” Likken looked up to the cement roofing seeing the memory of a night sky, how promising it was of a new day a peaceful tomorrow. Vaguely he heard the clamor of metal against stone and shout of man ricocheting against the brick pounding on the wooden door the last means of protection for Likken. He looked to the gun at his side, it would be an easier fate then what waited for him, however suicide was not something he favored in any situation. The wooden door smashed open and a single gun-man placed his rifle butt in the small of his shoulder muzzle pointed at the immobilized Likken. Smiling he closed his eyes and managed to speak one last thing to the men who chose his fate. “You may have won the battle…. But not the war, not by far.” The click of a single trigger and the bang of a barrel freshly fired could be heard miles away, or so it seemed. In the last moments of his consciousness Likken managed to think about what was before everything escalated to what is. A better world a peaceful land a place of prosperity and brother hood.