The moon shone brightly on the killing fields of Atrisia. In the grass meadow were gathered Jedi knights and Sith warriors. A slight breeze picked up to a distant howl and the grass bowed lowly to the fighters, as if even nature knew these warriors prowess and thus respected it.
A cloud clung to the sky and threatened to block all light on this cold night, but the distant hum of sabers and the force would guide their sight with or without light. A distant tree barren of leaves danced to rhythmic tune of clashing swords and the drums of war. It's branches swaying to and fro mimicking the warriors prose. Despite the fall grass's orange hue, crimson painted them anew. Jedi and Sith blood spilled on the earth, marked the warriors turf.
Panting they stood opposite one another. Swords lit showing the balance of brothers. Chanting quick prayers for the fallen, they clashed again without stalling. The Dragon King led the charge, calling his fire into a yellow scimitar. With a battle cry he called to the sky, hoping the heavens might hear his plight. But, even so, no matter why, true and tried, the end of the battle promised peace, but never would the lies cease.
Jumping high, with a bird's flight, he swung his blade downwards with all his might, at the opponents head he aimed his strike. A wild swing with his sword of light. If the yellow blade clashed with red, another star it would produce in the ploy's stead. While the heroes clashed and bled the true masters game of chess would seemingly never end. Light and dark moving pawns to the fate of the force's arc.
[member="Kao Xusros"]
A cloud clung to the sky and threatened to block all light on this cold night, but the distant hum of sabers and the force would guide their sight with or without light. A distant tree barren of leaves danced to rhythmic tune of clashing swords and the drums of war. It's branches swaying to and fro mimicking the warriors prose. Despite the fall grass's orange hue, crimson painted them anew. Jedi and Sith blood spilled on the earth, marked the warriors turf.
Panting they stood opposite one another. Swords lit showing the balance of brothers. Chanting quick prayers for the fallen, they clashed again without stalling. The Dragon King led the charge, calling his fire into a yellow scimitar. With a battle cry he called to the sky, hoping the heavens might hear his plight. But, even so, no matter why, true and tried, the end of the battle promised peace, but never would the lies cease.
Jumping high, with a bird's flight, he swung his blade downwards with all his might, at the opponents head he aimed his strike. A wild swing with his sword of light. If the yellow blade clashed with red, another star it would produce in the ploy's stead. While the heroes clashed and bled the true masters game of chess would seemingly never end. Light and dark moving pawns to the fate of the force's arc.
[member="Kao Xusros"]