OOC: This is a CLOSED RP. That being said, lurkers are welcome!!!
Years and years of constant battle had rendered the world so predictable. The sounds one usually heard were their own heartbeat pounding in their ears, the rhythm so out of sync with the sound of fireballs barraging and screams ripping through the air. The sound of your teammate still breathing was sweeter than any music you'd ever hear for the rest of your life, though all they breathed was ash and smoke. The days you awoke without the scent of death in the air were few and so far between that no one even gagged at it anymore. And the skies themselves were stained as red as the fields.
The fighting had gone on for so long that no soldier truly remembered why it began, but there they were, day in and day out, killing and watching others be killed. Each side of the war, which had disintegrated into the only distinction of Light versus Dark, was made up of every species and race imaginable. The only way to tell one from the other was a patch that was sewn or engraved into every article of clothing: a purple triangle for the Dark side, and a white four-pointed star for the side of Light.
It was morning, and an elf was racing across one of the oldest battlefields. The ground beneath her feet had been reduced to charred, bloody dirt. She narrowly dodged a smattering of magic spells by diving behind an old vehicle that'd been set up as a blockade; her white badge caught the sunlight as she jumped. Faelyn caught her breath and kept an eye out for any other signs of life. The enemy attack had come out of nowhere, but that didn't mean she was the only Light soldier out here. Granted, the Dark soldier who fired at her probably wasn't the only one, either.
Years and years of constant battle had rendered the world so predictable. The sounds one usually heard were their own heartbeat pounding in their ears, the rhythm so out of sync with the sound of fireballs barraging and screams ripping through the air. The sound of your teammate still breathing was sweeter than any music you'd ever hear for the rest of your life, though all they breathed was ash and smoke. The days you awoke without the scent of death in the air were few and so far between that no one even gagged at it anymore. And the skies themselves were stained as red as the fields.
The fighting had gone on for so long that no soldier truly remembered why it began, but there they were, day in and day out, killing and watching others be killed. Each side of the war, which had disintegrated into the only distinction of Light versus Dark, was made up of every species and race imaginable. The only way to tell one from the other was a patch that was sewn or engraved into every article of clothing: a purple triangle for the Dark side, and a white four-pointed star for the side of Light.
It was morning, and an elf was racing across one of the oldest battlefields. The ground beneath her feet had been reduced to charred, bloody dirt. She narrowly dodged a smattering of magic spells by diving behind an old vehicle that'd been set up as a blockade; her white badge caught the sunlight as she jumped. Faelyn caught her breath and kept an eye out for any other signs of life. The enemy attack had come out of nowhere, but that didn't mean she was the only Light soldier out here. Granted, the Dark soldier who fired at her probably wasn't the only one, either.
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