War cries resound across the gloom;

Ululations of thunder.

A thousand soldiers march onwards;

Scores of black, vengeful clouds.

Bolting rain lashes down;

Arrows to pierce the enemy.

The sky has begun its wrathful war,

Though the greatest feat is yet to come:

As black troops loose their arrows upon the land,

Thunders ringing the scene,

A crack splits amidst the carnage

And a chasm of brilliant light spills forth-

A blade sharper than any land sword,

A blade to destroy all in its path,

A blade forged high above-

The Sky Blade.

Screaming its lust,

It charges down to strike,

Consuming all.

Its purity blinds the enemy,

Never relenting in its flashing blows.

And only when

All is gone,

When the victory is taken,

Shall it retreat back to within the troops,

Till the next declaration.


Not that good I'm afraid, it doesn't flow very well...I do like the metaphorical use as the storm being an army though.