Try this on for size: Ever poised and ready there seemed to be no worthy opponents to best the war torn commander. Trained by great men before him to be greater still, he defeated men far greater than he, that they seemed to rival gods on the plains of battle. One by one over the years they fell victim to the tempered steel blade that seemed to sing as it quickly cut through the air looking as if the great commander held lightning in his hands as to be powered from the shoguns of past. Quickly and effortlessly as if trained to be a surgeon the great commander separates flesh from bone with keen precision. War torn and battered, plagued with the images of war, seemingly always in the company of death the great commander now a wiser hardened old man looks down in his lap at his only ally, his closest friend over so many war ravaged years. The ever faithful steel blade the fell so many warlords and soldiers had not only saved his life but ultimately would be the one to end it for the great commander as great as he was held a bloodlust that could no longer feed him or his blade for he had won peace for his people. Drunk with strong rice wine and illusions on power and maddening thoughts of conquest the once great commander knew no one would dare raise conquest as against his clan as long as he sat as commander. Looking down at the great tempered steel blade the commander prayed to his ancestors for forgiveness and unsheathed the lightning wind slayer and slowly plunged it within himself finally quenching his and the blades insatiable blood thirst.
Posted on: Sat, 19 Oct 2013 06:30:29 +0000
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