Blood, Rain, Death, Ashes. War was a dangerous thing. A blood bomb, splattering like a fire work in the darkness of the night. Booms going off like a rock hitting the bottom of a mountain. Lives of many floating away like a dream, the coldness of bodies scattered across the winter filled ground that once grew flowers of many colors and now only grows the rats that devour the flesh of the dead. A war is no place for the rainbow, no place for the smile of joy, no place for happiness.

Many of peoples own laying at there feet, many of there own blood lay on there brothers, sisters, husbands and wives. All turning into the one thing they once feared. Two groups that seemed to cut at the throat of never ending misery, to slice open the wound of pain and death. The silent voices never seeming to go from the minds that never stop running. The crazy.

The saying seemed to go around. Two leaders often were heard saying. The victor of all was you, the ‘Hero’ all of there every lasting hope and life into. You there ‘savor’ the moment of peace those who still didn’t lay cold and unloving, could still pray too. Like a god. “600 lives at stake!” The roar of your voice was like one of the blood bombs. “It’s just one life to take!!” The people who followed you would sing as the attack continued, a way of hope, some say.

Ahriman, the ‘villain some would say, the death to all the living. The darkness that threatens to consume you. He stood across from you like a bull fighter to the bull, the blood that was raining around by the people that were being slaughtered by there own, acting as the cape of the anger raging through you two. “600 Lives I’ll take. And I’ll brake them all. The sky will turn red from the blood I’ll pour.” He roared like a thousand thunders, his eyes burning into yours like the sun that hide behind the darkened clouds.

The sun that seems to only peek in your presence, the demons seem to only peek in his. The world split in two, a never ending war between Two mortals who are seen as gods.