They battled upon the hilltop, blades flickering in the moonlight.
The two warriors fenced with stunning skill, with blinding speed.

They fought on, engaged in their deadly dance, each move perfectly balanced, leaving no opening and attacking with snake-like speed.

This scene had played itself out a thousand times, the Order of the Burning Sun, and their polar opposites, The Brethren of Eternal Night.
For centuries the two factions had warred, neither side gaining ground.

Until now.

The time of the battle grew close, when all would be decided. Among the whispers of the streets were portents of war.

In these troubled times, you either pledged your allegiance to one side or the other, there was no middle ground with these people.
Those who did not, died.

Most chose the Order, they ruled beneficently and justly, fighting for the people.
Some chose the Brethren, awed by their power, seduced by the lure of debasement and debauchery that was afforded their followers.

Sometimes, cities were divided.
The result?
Street warfare, close up and brutal. Anything was a weapon, and no holds were barred.

Sometimes, battles like this one played themselves out, unseen by anyone.
This one raged on, each combatant unrelenting in their attack.
One warrior was clad all in black, the other in blazing white.
They were Disciples.

They fought in silence, only the clash of steel breaking the deathly still of the evening. No movement stirred the grass of the summit, save for the feet of the two deadly fighters.
They continued their lethal ballet, the rippling vegetation swaying and swishing beneath them.
As the battle wore on, the only sound that could be heard in the fading light was that of heavy breathing.
This was taking a toll on both warriors, making a mistake more likely, and definitely fatal.

As the sun slipped over the horizon, the black clad warrior seemed to fight harder, pushing the light combatant to the brink of desperation.
He pressed his advantage, forcing him down the slope.

The warrior of light was on the back foot , parrying now, only just keeping the visceral cutting edge at bay.
And then his guard slipped, and the darkened blade found his heart.

The darkness grew deeper.

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