The flags of the fallen lingered in the cold winds.
The stench of blood in the air is thick.
The ground trembles from an unknown power.
The stars are veiled by a cloud, a dark cloud.
The horizon is nothing but a misty terror.
The trusty sheild is now cleft and broken.
The reluctant blade is now stained with thick and pungent.
The weakened body wounded and damaged.
The will slowly faded away.
The mind slowly drifted astray.
The sky was lit by flashes of fear.
The air grew foul and fetid.
The horizon lifts a cloud of dust and sand.
The ground shakes, drums, drums in the deep.
They are coming ...
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