Moristanian Declaration of Existance (not AA related)

(I know this is... a little late, but hey, at least it exists!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Raelskraya looked around himself. Burning grass on the scorched ground. Shadows of buildings, barely standing. Swordsmen, clashing on the battlefield, with their supporting snipers on the hills. His own blood-stained blade, catching the rare ray of sun poking through the clouds of dust created by explosives hurled randomly into the open.

What was this all for? The answer had been lost to time. Thirty years, it had been; a generation. Those who had started the war had all been slain by it; no one could remember life before the war. And although the swords that both sides had were invented to be life saving, in the end it made the kill all too real.

He looked up. His leader, Ithqeel, was watching the scene from a helicopter outside the range of even the most skilled marksman. Watching as his men died on a field far below him. It was not Raelskraya's job to observe, however, but to fight. He drew his sword, and charged into the front lines. Right slash, parry, stab; all the motions he had taught himself in isolation for the inevitable. He could not bring himself to think about what he was doing; no, that would be an impediment. A hinderance to get rid of.

He had landed his thirty-second blow when a loud, harsh tone played from the other side. Parley. Both sides moved to make room for their leaders, who walked down the rows to a spot almost directly in front of Raelskraya. The Others' leader was surprisingly old; almost forty years of age.

The old man spoke. "We have no need for this war. Peace between us, if that is what it takes to save our lands."

Ithqeel looked at him. "Then we accept your surrender." Relief flowed into the old man's eyes. And then it was gone. He staggered to the side, and dropped to the ground.

Ithqeel sheathed his sword, stained with the one life he had reaped today. "And thus, Moristan may start rebuilding under my watchful eyes."

Raelskraya was shocked. All the other soldiers around him, on both sides of the circle; no, everywhere on the field, people were shocked. He unsheathed his sword and deftly hooked it around Ithqeel's. The comparitivly weak man dropped his sword. An silence overtook the battlefield. No one moved.

His former leader looked up at him. "What is this insolence!? Who are you!?"

Raelskraya looked up around him. All eyes were on him.

"Memento Mori." he said. Ithqeel's eyes widened with a sudden premonition of what was to come.

And legend has it that his head is still flying somewhere in the now establsihed Second Moristanian Empire's airspace.