And the old Warrior, looked at his son as he labored in the field.. .. It is time, he muttered to himself.
he opened the chest that had not been opened in many years, he knew what he would find inside as he had put it all there himself many years ago, the glint of steel... it seemed to suck in the light.. Like it was hungry to see the day.
the weight of the coat.. not felt in a long time, yet familiar.. like an old friend not seen for a long time, but whom you still greet as a brother. and finally the blade.. forged hard flashed in fire..and many blooded... blood rushed to his face.. his heart pounded, hand closed on hard honed steel.. his spirit.. buried under earth and straw broke free.. he stepped into the light.. walked across the yard sun shone from burnished rings, his son looked up from his toil.. his eyes wide.... Son, he said... we are not farmers.
CAPS Range Officer
Toronto Downtown Age Verifier
If the tongue could cut as the sword does, the dead would be infinite
Last edited by Brian McIlmoyle; July 4th, 2016 at 17:18..