The sun sank in the west.
A heavy snow had just fallen not long ago, draping the world in silver. The white snow covered the earth, resembling a sheet of pure, flawless paper. And on this white paper:
Scattered Armor;
Corpses with heads severed, limbs hacked off, or run through by longspears;
Guts, still warm and a mess of colors;
Stains of dark red blood;
Severed heads, faces twisted in grimaces, eyes refusing to close in death;
Had all unwittingly become adornments on this sheet of white paper.
What was once a scene of a snowy wasteland had now become a living portrait of Purgatory on Earth.
In the snow, a Barbarian Race cavalryman—legs severed, chest pierced, with barely a breath left in him—crawled silently across the ground. He left a trail of blood several yards long, twisted and winding, in his wake.
SWISH!
