The Night Stone
Thule snapped out of his day dream to hear the screams of war. This was the third week in a role that he has had to shed the blood of a race that he new nothing about. These people had small frames and slanted eyes, but they new more about the art of war than any race he had ever came across, and Thule was the head of his company. He had fought in more wars than he had fingers.
"Lets prepare for another sleepless night gang." He said as he pulled his twin bladed sword from its holster.
Thule spun the blade in front of him, and raced off to change his life. He came across the first line cutting though them like butter. There small frames made it easy to hit and run to the next person in line. Then without warning there everybody stepped out of his way except one. This man was not like the others. He had eyes of gold and black eye-sockets. His hair was as white as snow, and he seamed to float as he walked. It was something that Thule had never seen before. Then the man drew his sword and pointed it at Thule. Then said something that Thule did understand, but new to be a challenge.
At of respect Thule put his sword up to his nose with the with showing, and turned it to it's edge so his nose fit between the twin blade. Then he got in his fighting stance, to prepare for the dance with the dead. A teknique that only the war masters know. The man before him pulled a knife out of his belt and cut his chest ever so lightly that the blood came out in drops like tears. Then he put the knife away and started to mimic Thule. It was like he could read his mind.
Then Thule put the sword down on his left side, and pulled up smoothly. The man just moved out of the way as if he new what was going to happen. The he longed ford. Thule turned to his right, so that the blade slide off his armor. Then Thule spun around slicing just above the mans head. The man countered with a toughing star. The star hit Thule in the left shower. The pain went strait to Thule finger tips. Numb his hand. All Thule could do was force his mind to stay with the small man. He dodged for a time. Then he found the strength to fight back, and came down with a mighty blow. The man lifted his sword to block, but didn't expect Thule's sword to break.
The two blades broke and came across the little man's eyes, leaving the man blind. Thule didn't waste any time. He took his broken sword and lounged the jagget edge into the man's ribs. The little man screamed with a voice of a banshee. And in moments the hole army of this unknown nation was gone. It was as if they were all linked to this man.
Thule dropped his blade and picked up the little man's sword. It was very light, and was made with a dark metal. It also had some stone in the hilt. It was the color of dried blood. Yet it seamed to shin, and pull light into it. It wasn't possible, but it seamed to do both at once. Thule put it into a sheath on his back, gathered his army to go home.
Thule snapped out of his day dream to hear the screams of war. This was the third week in a role that he has had to shed the blood of a race that he new nothing about. These people had small frames and slanted eyes, but they new more about the art of war than any race he had ever came across, and Thule was the head of his company. He had fought in more wars than he had fingers.
"Lets prepare for another sleepless night gang." He said as he pulled his twin bladed sword from its holster.
Thule spun the blade in front of him, and raced off to change his life. He came across the first line cutting though them like butter. There small frames made it easy to hit and run to the next person in line. Then without warning there everybody stepped out of his way except one. This man was not like the others. He had eyes of gold and black eye-sockets. His hair was as white as snow, and he seamed to float as he walked. It was something that Thule had never seen before. Then the man drew his sword and pointed it at Thule. Then said something that Thule did understand, but new to be a challenge.
At of respect Thule put his sword up to his nose with the with showing, and turned it to it's edge so his nose fit between the twin blade. Then he got in his fighting stance, to prepare for the dance with the dead. A teknique that only the war masters know. The man before him pulled a knife out of his belt and cut his chest ever so lightly that the blood came out in drops like tears. Then he put the knife away and started to mimic Thule. It was like he could read his mind.
Then Thule put the sword down on his left side, and pulled up smoothly. The man just moved out of the way as if he new what was going to happen. The he longed ford. Thule turned to his right, so that the blade slide off his armor. Then Thule spun around slicing just above the mans head. The man countered with a toughing star. The star hit Thule in the left shower. The pain went strait to Thule finger tips. Numb his hand. All Thule could do was force his mind to stay with the small man. He dodged for a time. Then he found the strength to fight back, and came down with a mighty blow. The man lifted his sword to block, but didn't expect Thule's sword to break.
The two blades broke and came across the little man's eyes, leaving the man blind. Thule didn't waste any time. He took his broken sword and lounged the jagget edge into the man's ribs. The little man screamed with a voice of a banshee. And in moments the hole army of this unknown nation was gone. It was as if they were all linked to this man.
Thule dropped his blade and picked up the little man's sword. It was very light, and was made with a dark metal. It also had some stone in the hilt. It was the color of dried blood. Yet it seamed to shin, and pull light into it. It wasn't possible, but it seamed to do both at once. Thule put it into a sheath on his back, gathered his army to go home.
