- My name shall echo in your soul for the rest of your life. Dark light will cast the blackest shadows running, following you by your side, in a fiery attempt to strike your heart and grasp its roots deep within. You'll grow weary, weak, pale as a ghost striving to exist, eager to die.
The sword reached the shed, a long, silvery, sparkling gaze of a blade used to bath in red. Kryad Naid, Koriuga Naid, "Living sword, thirsty sword".
The time stopped still, the birds stood immobile awaiting the revival of the mystic flow, machinery more ancient than Gods. Bringer of doom, father of chaos, son of eternity and in itself the essence of life. It froze and with it the whole, portraying and sketching the new come, the new world.
- This charade, the whole cosmic joke guards the last laugh. You my mighty friend are just a slave; of yourself and others... you serve too many masters. Power is but a mere illusion of hope, with some true skill, it must be said... but not yours, no of course not, it is your sword's. And when it quenches its thirst drowned in warm blood, the wind will fly with your mastery to nevermore.
- Stand unworthy revenant and show your face. Tricky is the fate that slowly unfolds itself. If you are that angel of mercy, the bearer of the 7th mark, unleash divine fury not those words, that gibberish. Drop by drop the drizzle runs through the trees, as this clear spot surrounded by forest watches the scene.
They stared at each other, with the rain running down their faces. Both with one hand in the scabbard and the other in the grip, unable to move, to anticipate... Just the wind blowing was heard and a distant cry from a frog. Pines were whistling in frenzy, ready to drink the blood of angels.
Kryor dared to blink.
Jhool took advantage.
Twenty three feet between them disappeared in a moment, as if never there. Jhool sword was already unsheathed and swung with a rapid movement from right to left. His sword was far longer than Kryor's and he took advantage of this, four feet from one another. His sword, the others chest in deep communion were one in for an instant. Kryor's face was paled and his mouth seemed strange trying to utter a word. He was untouched... still something was missing.
The sword reached the shed, a long, silvery, sparkling gaze of a blade used to bath in red. Kryad Naid, Koriuga Naid, "Living sword, thirsty sword".
The time stopped still, the birds stood immobile awaiting the revival of the mystic flow, machinery more ancient than Gods. Bringer of doom, father of chaos, son of eternity and in itself the essence of life. It froze and with it the whole, portraying and sketching the new come, the new world.
- This charade, the whole cosmic joke guards the last laugh. You my mighty friend are just a slave; of yourself and others... you serve too many masters. Power is but a mere illusion of hope, with some true skill, it must be said... but not yours, no of course not, it is your sword's. And when it quenches its thirst drowned in warm blood, the wind will fly with your mastery to nevermore.
- Stand unworthy revenant and show your face. Tricky is the fate that slowly unfolds itself. If you are that angel of mercy, the bearer of the 7th mark, unleash divine fury not those words, that gibberish. Drop by drop the drizzle runs through the trees, as this clear spot surrounded by forest watches the scene.
They stared at each other, with the rain running down their faces. Both with one hand in the scabbard and the other in the grip, unable to move, to anticipate... Just the wind blowing was heard and a distant cry from a frog. Pines were whistling in frenzy, ready to drink the blood of angels.
Kryor dared to blink.
Jhool took advantage.
Twenty three feet between them disappeared in a moment, as if never there. Jhool sword was already unsheathed and swung with a rapid movement from right to left. His sword was far longer than Kryor's and he took advantage of this, four feet from one another. His sword, the others chest in deep communion were one in for an instant. Kryor's face was paled and his mouth seemed strange trying to utter a word. He was untouched... still something was missing.
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