Jeshikakitty Winning Entry

Have you heard the legend of the two kingdoms that turned against one another? Brother against brother, sword against sword, fang against bone. It’s a story as old as Mistica, though, whether it is but a mere myth or true legend is unknown. Yet, the great story is still told far and wide. It speaks of two sides, once friends that lived hand in hand. Brothers amongst brothers, friends amongst friends, two true kingdoms that never so much as spoke a harsh word against one another. Though ties were broken, the kingdoms were torn, and war broke out. The causes were unspoken, held secret amongst the two sides, which may have been what led to their demise. The two kings that rose above each kingdom were forewarned. An ancient divinity had been awoken, a great stignightus guardian, his name reaching out far and wide as the savior. “Those that do not head their warning will grow stone cold, nether a word spoken nor heard by them ever again, dear kings”, however his warning was not headed. Both sides prepared their weaponry, sharpening their swords and casting their iron armor upon their backs. Each side, a thousand soldiers wide and ten times long, lined each side of the mighty battlefield. Silence filled the land; it seemed as if all of Mistica had grew silent for the mighty war to begin. “let this war begin”, both sides cried out, lunging into battle and towards one another. The war had commenced, and there was no turning back. Blows, slashes, bites, kicks; all were thrown and soon landed on each other. Friends, once so kind and gentle, now turned vicious. Fear was long gone from their minds as they raged in war. Vix and Jinx, Kratorks and Obsideons, all had turned on one another, and none showed any mercy. Blood was beginning to shed as the air grew thick with tension. A breeze rustled the trees, and time suddenly seemed to slow down. Enemies in mid stride came to a halt, attacks from the air were frozen in time, and all once breathing became still. The last breathing soul now stood over the battlefield, now a seeming graveyard of statues. The stignightus turned with a snort from the lone somber expressions of the statues, some in fear, some in agony, some in rage, forever suspended in their unending battle, though never suffering the release of death. Never hearing, never speaking – frozen in war. As he left, the ancient divinities words echoed along with his fading steps, “brother against brother, friend against friend, now turned to stone together forever in the end”