Category: Scribblings

The battlefield was filled with cries from the damned and the dying. All of the damned praying for quick release and the dying unable to do much other than lie bleeding and groaning. Bervan had never noticed the groaning before, but now he lay groaning himself, covered in blood, sweat, and thankfully no tears. Thought by many (including himself) to be the greatest swordsman the land had known for many years, Bervan lay dying. Not that he was concerned, for he had seen HER for the briefest of moments, glinting…