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originally posted in: The Rivers of Blood (RP - 40K)
7/16/2015 4:38:53 PM
1
Not too far away Ryker sees a familiar black armor. He stands before a small battalion of troops all with weapons beared. A faint hiss could be heard from the lone figure voices whispering: [i]kill, destroy suffer[/i] he drew a black and crimson sword, the weapon making Ryker see a ghost of a friend. He curled his recessive hand over the pommel and charged right in soundless, lethal, soulless.
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