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An Ax-man's Battle

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The cold steel felt good in my hands. The neck of my ax glistened with coils of nickel against its ebony wood. I looked ahead, their faces staring into the very depths of my soul; they shouted indiscernible words at me. I readied myself for the coming storm. My hands took their positions upon my tools of destruction. I raised my arm against the horde as they howled in anticipation. I struck the first chord of the song.

The crowd of fans bellowed; flames roared from the stage as the band joined in for the song's intro riff. Speed and technique pranced around the frets of my guitar like tiny dancers swinging to a salsa tune. Thunderous bass kicks filled my ears as the drummer kept tempo, adding cracks of lightning to the already ecstatic music. Piercing through the instruments like a ray of moonlight streaks through the blackened night, the vocalist sang with the beauty only a choir of angels posses. My steel put gut-wrenching power forth as I sang with a sweet, sweet tenor in the most influential and breathtaking chorus. Fans sang along with just as much fire and passion in their eyes as ours.

A high-pitched banshee scream ripped through the charm as my fingers burst into flames, creating a stupor of a technical, heartfelt solo. The crowd cheered as I poured my very being into my ax. We created a musical fusion of man and technology, captivating the audience with a sonic barrage of beauty. Uproar sounded from our entranced audience as the band and I finished the chanting of our musical spell.





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