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12/15/2006 8:12 AM
Shrill cawing filled the skies as the carrion birds circled the field below, having learnt that when this many soldiers were in one place the results tended to be rather fattening for a crow or raven. The sky was azure blue and it would have been the perfect day for a football match or a walk through the country, yet for some reason the races below seemed to have gotten the idea that a good old blood bath was much more entertaining. And so the armies assembled before each other, weapons held ready and armour fastened tight and awaited a sign, any sign, that would let them vent their rage upon the enemy.
A general on a roan stallion raised his sword high above his head and pointed before him.
"Attack!" he screamed, his voice echoing ominously about the field.
[Edited by Tetrius on Friday, December 15, 2006 8:12 AM]
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