beth was polishing her axe..weeks earlier the last of the great tress had been felled. emotions were at a limit to the extreme. the dark hand were overcoming the forces of light at every corner. their influence had spread like a disease amongst so many. it was as if the mist of hades was descending upon the earth..
the darkness was stronger each day, the lies quicker, the intent more
obvious. they had in most part destroyed the best of us, and were getting ready to get rid of the worst.
beth clicked her teeth, swollen with envy for the dead she baid no mind to the travesty of war surrounding her. lost in memories of hate bereft of sensibility and in an eternal maze of doubt she stumbled but never quite fell.
being of the guard had been an ever constant quest, to become the saber of rin to hold the place by the centre branch of youur.
blood spatted, armour rent with flesh torn, she fumbled forward. lost in the multiplicity of ignorance and doom, she held on wearily expecting the end.
her foe drawn to its full height approached her in the dust of time. soon their blades would meet, soon the reckoning would begin. she drew her concious sharp as sheer ice hot fire and filled with the pathways of time. the beast was monstrous, wounds all over, bleeding blood that ate the earth, its shackles ready for all foes that dared to rebel.