Battlefield

The deep, sharp ringing fills the field as blades clash against that of their enemies. Clear air was sliced by precision arrows as they were drawn from the bow, moving over the raging masses, past the colored banners raised high, and into the marked opponent’s heart. Green grass was no longer green. What could be seen beneath the bodies, those both feuding and cold, was worn ground, stained crimson a result of the loss of that ultimate life-sustaining liquid. Another falls, adding to the growing stain, his name and existence already forgotten. The silence of his death overpowered by clanging metal. His scarlet life seeping through failed armor. But yet there was no end to the battle in sight. Shields slammed together in an effort of defense; sharpened blades parried attacks; hardened warriors strive to live. But their life is to die. Both sides fight and live and die for the same: in the name of their King.