• His fierce rain paints the nation of the crimson crow red with blood. His almost demonic lust for blood is matched only by his foul temper. His subtle yet slow attacks allow for a deadly combination. This battle seems almost nonexistent. The bodies of his foes lie scattered across the field. He stops... there is a child at his feet holding a sword; his armor not yet complete. His shield as broken as his tears. He leans down and whispers to the boy.
    "Fear not I shall was away your tears... With a sea of blood..."
    Blood began to rush down the tip of his blades. A smile cut across his face. He began to swing his blades spinning over and over. A wave of energy began to rise from the bodies of the dead. As he spun a vortex of blood grew with each rotation. A simple word escaped his lips...
    "Agana.." The Vortex spun faster, taller, wider. His smile grew as this small child eyes grew wider. With one flawless sweep of his blades the vortex collapsed upon itself sending an ocean of blood washing away the fear. For the dead knows no fear. The boys body was bathed in blood. He stood almost transformed. There was a shallow yet hollow stare in his eyes that matched the lifelessness of the battlefield. "Bored..." was all the man could think of to say now. "Lets make this a real war." With child at his side, he raised his hand as the insignia of the shined on his palm. The dead bathed in blood began to rise their armor moving on its own. Their flesh eaten away by the acidic blood that ended their lives.