CrazyRaiden

The sun had already disappeared from sight and nothing but the moon and stars was left to illuminate the land. Shadows from the mountains did their best to hide the ancient warrior standing tall, but the soft shimmering of his black armor gave him away. Heavy plating and flexible chainmail protected him and his weapon, a grand blade, almost as long and broad as the warrior himself, stood planted in the ground before him. His long hair, reaching halfway his back, was bound loosely at shoulder height, his features hidden by the dark. A statue, but for the strong wind playing with his hair and chain, a living man. Hil'Trah had been standing on

The Battleground The last day dawns welcome to the slaughterhouse... The dead soil you're standing on will soon have enough bodies to feed an age of flora... A wasteland, bordered by mountains sea and country... A beautifull country it once was before the war began. Chorus: Ignorant gouls! Pround dragoons! Flare of War! The battle begins! Warlords aegis and Mark of Pain Clash! Horde... Of Destructive Morons THE BATTLEGROUND!!! oblivion... Dragonscale, leather and chain the armor of the warriors... Sword, axe and claw pierces it all for dead is innevitable A dragon and a shadow the heroes of both sides... Infernal

Raiden, The Red Winged Angel zegt: howdy [X]   when the mirror brakes destruction concentrated in a small glass marbel =p zegt: what was up with the question? "how do you proof you exist?" Raiden, The Red Winged Angel zegt: