The ever-present clashing of the swords seemed to inundate him in the sounds of war. Everywhere around him, his fellow warriors fiercely fought these invading heathens from the north. The Kounai Warriors refused to give up their homeland without a tough fight.

These invading barbarians; they were so different, yet almost the same. Their skin was just a shade darker than those of the natives. Their eyes were just a shade darker than the people of the land. The decorations etched onto their armor mirrored those of the Kounai. In the glint of the sunlight, it was nearly impossible to discern whether the adversary was friend or foe. It was gruesome.

D’suke was drenched in blood. He had answered the Battle Cry of the Horn nearly three suns ago. Asides from the momentary lulls in the heat of battle, he had been littering the field with enemy bodies with every spare breath within him. His katana, which once shined brightly in the gleam of day, now dripped with a thick red gelatinous substance that was the blood of hundreds of those that once lived. His dark unruly hair also dripped the vile liquid that flooded the once green field. He himself had contributed to the repainting of the field, for he had his fair share of cuts sustained from his nonstop combat.

As he surveyed what was left of the battle, he was barely able to tell his fellow Kounai apart from those that desired what did not belong to them. But he could take it no longer. The strain on his body was much too great, and he began to slowly sink down and feel the fatigue gnawing his whole body. He grasped his left arm, having received a fresh new cut as a present from his enemy just before D'suke banished him from this earth. But now, he had lost too much blood and was fleeting. This last fight was against a most worthy opponent, as each traded slashes upon each others body until finally the vandal became the first to fall. It was D’suke’s most hard earned victory yet.

Light slowly crawled through the immobile clouds. It illuminated the hundreds of corpses scattered about on the field. He felt a great pain as he saw how many Kounai had fallen. This was not how it should be. The invaders were not supposed to be able to inflict such heavy losses upon the superior Kounai. But they had. And now the proud warriors were severely decimated in numbers. Fellow brothers and fathers would never walk again.

Kneeling on the blood-soaked grass, D’suke felt the ground give a soft shake. It gradually grew from the quite tremble into a loud roar. The weakened warrior fell from his kneeling stance onto the floor, unable to support himself against the quake of the earth. As he looked up, the sight that lay before him was the least desirable thing he could imagine. The invaders had seemed to be able to muster another whole contingent of recruits, free from any weariness that accompanies the battle.

The Kounai were tired. They were exhausted and fatigued. They longed for rest and shelter and to be clean of the disgusting red coating of blood that clung to their heavy armor. Their bodies had also been engaged in war for three sun-ups and sun-downs, and to continue would be on the same level as throwing their lives away to the enemy. To repel another attack with what men were left was just not an option. The Kounai would have to surrender. There was no other choice but to.

Seeing defeat rampant in the eyes of his friends, D’suke was able to draw upon the depths of his spirit and bring about new life to his soul. He could not allow the wanton destruction of his land to occur while he still lived. He could never allow himself to be subject to a foreigner. This was the Kounai home, and he would not let any other take residence upon this land so long as there remained a Kounai to defend it.

And so D’suke turned towards the advancing horde, ready to face whatever may come at him. Regardless of the situation, regardless of the outcome, he would pour his whole self, body and soul, into the task at hand. If he couldn’t stand the heat of the fight that had been brought to him, then perhaps he deserved to be burned in the Eternal-Fires-of-Those-Who-Are-Most-Unworthy.

With his sanguine katana raised, with his fatigued body drawing on the last remaining reserves of whatever was left, with every last ounce of strength he could rally, D’suke, not caring whether or not anyone followed, rushed to meet the new enemy and give them a proper Kounai welcome.

-10.11.07, 10.30 - 11.15pm.