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The Art of War

Written by: Transcribed by Sir Iawen Penn (OOC: written by David Hayden)
Date: Unknown
The Art of War

The fletching of an errant arrow whispers softly to me as it passes by, feathers caressing my ear.

A sword reaches for my own, the two collide - merging for an instant until they are torn apart.

My blade leaps from my hand, eager, a viper striking prey. Shearing both mail and the man beneath.

A moment and I are alone on this battlefield. And the view is both magnificent and gruesome.

Around me the fighting rages - a hammer shatters helm and skull, an axe cleaves through leather,
flesh, and bone without the polite hesitation one expects from armor.

Dreams of glory are attained and stolen in the span of a sparrow's wings.

A maiden, her shield a gleaming corsage, is but a spear's length away, red hair dancing in the
wind as the foe she faces wilts before her.

Gracefully she stands, her weight on his sternum, coaxing her sword from the wound. With a sigh,
her blade and her enemy are both freed.

And I cut her down.
Created by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 10-12-09 12:29 PM
Last Modified by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 10-12-09 12:29 PM