Triston Posted August 19, 2003 Share Posted August 19, 2003 The ichorous blood of the last deamon splashed against the wall as the breathless warrior finished his deadly dance. All about him where strewn the bodies of countless dark denizens, some in their death throws, others begining to grow cold. The once black eyes of Triston Lioness glowed with a soft grey light as he wiped the black blood from his weapon onto his cloak, and he shuddered involintarily with the pure rapture that had been a slaughter. In the past few weeks score after score of deamons had fallen to the hungry blade, and yet still it demanded more. If only there was some way to quench its thirst long enough to give the Knight some respite. Perhaps a stronger breed of deamon was what the blade hungered for... Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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