  I just sat down and began typing, this is what happened. I have no title as of yet and if you have any suggestions please post them. ((Please excuse the spelling, I am a horrid speller and my computer is without spell check! Oh, and I also have a fixation with commas...so please excuse the horrible sentance structure)) Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the dark clouds in a red flash.
The young gaurd at his post sighed and leaned against the large stone wall he was patrolling. The rain had not yet reached the city, but if one looked hard enouph they would see the rain drenching the vally far below them. Anouther flash lit up the night, the man sighed again. He wanted nothing more than to be in bed with his lover, nestled into her warm embrace, asleep. But that wouldn’t be happening, not that night, nor any other. He turned his back to the lightning, searching randomly for something on the other side of the wall. A slight twinging noise made its entrance into the night, but he didn’t notice, for at that moment there was a roll of thunder. He fell like a stone, an arrow pertruding from his back. His last thoughts were of his wife, and would he ever see her again?
More arrows flew over the wall, finding their targets in the other watchmen on the wall. One man, however, managed to crawl to the bell that rested at the top of a tower. He gave it one mighty tug and fell, his strength leaving him. Small, wooden ladders poked up over the wall and people streamed up them. A company of about fifty, if anyone had been there to count. They were dressed in dark leathers, blending into the night like shadows.
As the bell tolled the moved faster, racing down the other side of the wall, weapons in hand. The men in the barracks, the ones that were awake at least, lept up and ran out into the darkness to see to the trouble. The first few fell, covered in their own blood, from the swift shadows bearing knives. The men who came after were ready. The black men pounced on them, but found themselves matched in talent and bronze. While the skirmish broke out a few of the kings men ran up to the hall, screaming their warning into the sleeping households. More gaurds ran from their houses, soon it was a small battle of about seventy-five against fifty. The men in black were obviously not going to win, and they knew it, but they fought on anyway. They became more feirce with each man they killed, losing hardly none of their own.
The fight went on, on and on until the first rays of light began peaking over the mountain tops. The light looked out over the small battlefield, there were only twenty-five of the king’s men left, and the only remaining men in black were laying in the mud with diffrent degrees of injury. ((This is it so far.... this is what I get when I bored, horrid writing! well...we'll see if I ever finish this story XP, I doubt it!
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