The dull *clop* *clop* *clop* of wet boots was the only sound that penetrated the deathly silence of night. No sounds escaped from the quaint brick houses that lay on either side of the miss mash of cobblestone that this village called roads. The owners of the boots strolled wearily along these roads, annoyed at the recent rash of rain showers. The usual muddy hills and valleys were now pooling with water. Connected above the boots are a pair of blue trousers, and stacked on that was a blue vest. Which of course was followed by a blue long coat, which had a large red cross adorned dead center. The finishing touch was rifle that lolled to and fro on slumping shoulders. These tired men who patrolled the streets were known as the holy guard, soldiers of the holy cross empire. They yawned and trotted about, giving the most cursory glances to there surroundings.
If they had been keeping a keen eye they would have seen the slinking black shadows surging forward. Black boots sloshed through wet grass, which in turn kicked mud on black slacks. While men wiped there brows on the black sleeves attached to black shirts, and hoping their black helmets would protect them. These men had no rifle sleepily hanging on their shoulder, no there’s was gripped firmly in hand. The soldiers shrouded in black cloth and shadows called the dictatorship of Serias their home. The Serians rushing forward, wide eyed and alert, ready for the fight, for victory. While the holy cross rubbed their eyes, and leaned against houses to rest.
The dreamy silence was invaded and decimated as loud cracks erupt from the hillside. But the rifles shatter more than just silence, as bullets tear through their targets. Blood shooting in steams from blue backs, crumpling on the street never to rise again. Some of the poor blue fellows tried to regroup and fight back, but it was all for not. The black onslaught was swift, leaving no possible chance for retaliation. Most never even got a single shot off, those who did never got to pop out the shell before succumbing. After twenty minutes silence became master over all once more. This same fight took place in dozens of places along the holy cross empires border. The invasion had begun, and the war was about shift into high gear. Some called this night liberation, some a horrible loss, but the truth was it was only one thing, a slaughter.
This is just part of this first chapter of a story I'm trying to write. The names are place holders until I can come up withsomethign better, I'll try to update it often.