A warrior walks the silent street, vorpal steel gleaming in the
Moving quietly toward his destiny; a monstrous horror bathed in eerie
The huge ape-like creature with hideous horned helm draws a blade
seeming of crimson light.
He laughs coldly at this gallant young fool, soon to be dead by his
hand this night.
None before had fought him and lived, no quarter, no mercy had ever
No-one but fools would challenge him; he and his mighty magic blade.
The warrior knew nought of the fear that this horror should surely
His heart was with his family slain; the dead are scared by nothing.
Gleaming sword met gleaming sword with the sound of thunder in the
The warrior reeled under the blow his arm broken and lifeless at his
His weapon lay at his feet, useless, but he could not but stare at
flashing silently toward his skull, soon an end to the pain in his
At the last moment he somehow moved, his spirit not quite ready to
His left hand grasped his father's sword, his only inheritance that
The beast was startled by the man's eyes, a gleam of hate and pain
like he had never seen.
The sword of his enemy flamed brilliant white, left handed this time,
the human came again.
He that had never known fear, knew terror that eve, when nought but a
shaken, wounded child,
clumsily bearing sword with off-hand closed for battle, his eyes
The warrior swung his father's sword with every ounce of strength and
Crimson light met silver fire, steel on steel exploded in a sudden
For a moment the beast thought he had won as his gaze caught the
warrior's broken blade.
For a moment he felt a twinge of pity, then he felt the broken shard
in his chest impaled.
The warrior looked hesitantly down at the beast, appearing more man-
like now that it was dead.
He picked up the magic blade and walked away, nervously adjusting the
horned helm on his head.