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For it was.hate unto birth.of darkness On Falkemar, Chelesmé softly asked her old Vaalkdring confidant, "Are you with me, dear friend?" "Always," Falkemar assuredly remarked, his tone calm and trustworthy in the face of the war that beheld the fate of Sarquillia. As Chelesmé withdrew one of the three swords from her back, the sharp steel screeched. She held it to her side. Swallowing the choking fear in her throat, she pointed the sword's tip at the enemy, shouting, "Belligerency shall be our hearts, my friends! Bring all of your rage.leave all of your compassion for another day!" On the wings of the mighty Vaalkdring she sailed down the ridge and out over the jagged plains to meet the darkness-the hearts of the alliance beside her. Drauken and Debauchi chanted in hails, bringing the black ocean to life-a truly horrifying sight to behold. No wavering in their attack, the alliance thrust forward in guile and brawn, their roar growing more courageous. Not even the passing of time away from reality could stop the two entities from colliding. Good and darkness locked in the clutches of war; an end to bring all ends it was promised to be. Destiny. Struggle. Battle. Death. The outcome.unknown. The future.untold.
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