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The forest was almost quiet. It was a cold night and thin fog emerged from the ground. The lonely female figure stood still amidst the black schemes of the ancient trees. A thorough visitor would have noticed the tension and energy emanating from her body. Her face told stories of bloodlust and battles. With a sudden twitch of her head, she stared into the soulless gloominess of the long dead wood, sensing her enemy. A dark shadow covers the clearing. Glowing red eyes cut through the darkness and the odor of doom fills the air. A dark bulky giant enters the clearing. The homicidal Lady barely ever experienced fear nor believes in fate. Yet, as she meets the dark aura of the Knight of Darkness, her heart begins to pound faster and her blood rushes through her veins.
ToroMor sets his heavy boots on the clearing. He is fully covered in blackened metal armour and his right hand holds a grey bladed, very heavy Bihander. The handhold seems to consist of obsidian, wrapped in leather bands. Necromantic power eradiates from this cruel weapon. He stops and, slightly bending his helmet, his deep demonic voice shatters the still and echoes from the far mountains. “Hail to you, warrior lady! What a night for a duel. The pale moon is full and our souls lust for murder. How I craved for such a moment! My blood is boiling - let us begin the dance.” For just a weeny moment, for the tiniest fraction of a heartbeat, the lady is surprised by this unexpected salute. Then, ToroMor speaks the words he usually speaks before a duel: “I grant you the first blow.”
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