The river ran glowing flowing in the night. The sunrise shown light in erieest of places hasting the cretuares of the dark. Crys from flying demons filled the villagers with fright but not for a warrior who relied on might. Many died many killed but one could not be stilled. A dark shape filled with hate towered over the people hasting their fleeing but once again one man stood as proud as any lion. The dark shape swiped but the warrior stood, and with one mighty swing did the villagers sing of the death of a dark shape
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