GreenTyr

One more arrow loosed; her arm ached from the strain. It flew towards one last fleeing rider; she had loosed many arrows today. It flew, perhaps above the grey sky to escape the cold, to embrace the sun before impressing its target; She was frigid. Nearly out of sight, the rider fell from the mount and crashed into the red and brown stained field; she was exhausted. One more bloody battle ended; her lungs were almost too dense to breathe. One more finished campaign; she wanted to sleep. Yet one more force littered the tundra with their corpses; she was thirsty. The man nearest her blows a horn; Her ears were ringing. She buried her head into

6 Months since you lost all titles, honor, and your names. 5 Months since you were sent to the front to die and reclaim your honor. 4 Months since you (kept) survived(ing), besting all (Shadowland) foes. 3 Months since you last heard your names spoken without contempt. 2 Months since fire sparked in your hearts. 1 Month since you found (old) allies. 2 Weeks since the last sighting of Shadowlands creatures and their taint. 1 Week since the celebrations started. 5 Days since you received a message. 2 Days since you arrived in this village. 3 Days until blood flows while pyres burn. Today a meeting.

October 25th, 1197 IC It’s a cold autumn day. Even this large room with its many fires does nothing to stop the piercing cold. Many faces gather around a large, flickering room with looks of anger and worry. You all know why you are here. A war is brewing. One that may be the worst since days long past. This will be no war against an invader. No, this will be a war of clans and honor. This will be a war to decide the next Shogun. A war of clans to destroy clans.    The Emperor's Son lay dead, struck down alongside the Emerald Champion Mirumoto Tsuda and Shogun Takimini The Clanless. Both slain suddenly in the night by unknown aggress

His great maw opened and it screamed. Those screams were not of man; those screams not heard but felt; those screams too numerous to count; those screams begging me to join them; those screams no longer screams but soothing sirens enticing me to join them beyond the pitch black gate. And within that reached a million little blackened hands, reaching and grabbing at me, but never leaving the confines of his Stygian mouth.. And in another instant it all closed and my mind and the fear returned to me.

Always dying, never dead Existing only within our head Deny the sight, or you'll be red Listen to what's been said Lest you make and lie in your bed

Under teeth of the world is where i wait Across open plains, desert, snow afar The struggle of our last two is your fate Eons of war and you know where we are In the arena of the dead and gone Bring your supposed cursed, gifted, the Red Those who will never see again, the dawn Choosing knowledge and prophecy instead Tip the scales using that which was given And decide what reality to live in

Over hills, far away Buried world, barren waste Spirits laugh, dead unnamed Sunlight lose, daylight gray Ever here, must make haste Escape fate, giant's game Over hills, must remain

A place of eternal fire. Where the skies themselves burn. Deformed, mutated, horrific creatures walk the ground, and walk the sky, and walk the very river made way by the blood of their victims. Me, a infinite amount of helpless, useless me's. Surrounding them lies living memories, my best memories, most fond memories given physical manifestation to be defiled and devoured by creatures of my nightmares and beyond. The ground and the sky fill with the ruins of not only buildings and the never ending desecration of my bodies and memories, lie the the worst of all. My hopes, my dreams, my goals, past and present, are being dispatched, ravaged b