Barren
Strife is empty.
Here and there, there are pockets of civilization. Once, if the Oracles allow it, one may see a group of Kenar-Ahdam, moving along the wastes, the skin of the world, as one may see maggots moving along a corpse. But in Strife, one is usually alone, their only companion the wind, the sun their guide, and loneliness their sword.
There is an arena here. Sanctified by the Keepers, made for champions of light, designed to train an army for a war that never came. Long gone are its masters. No longer are there echoes of sword and cannon, the cries and cheers of its competitors, all lost in the wind. Memories as barren as the plane of Strife itself.
No more trials are held. The realm is dead. The Dharkwave never came, but there was no victory for us to celebrate. Strife is forgotten.
And I am left alone.
A/N
Yeah, matchmaking in Strife isn't so hot right now, but maybe it's just me. Anyway, drabbled this up.