The quantum foam seethes, the Eternal Adversaries propagating outward in a cataclysm of tales:

Clipper ships go bow-to-bow in a transcontinental race, the captains of each ship screaming obscenities across the churning meerschaum.

After days of almost loving exchanges, the sniper has finally gotten his quarry within the crosshairs; he pulls the trigger.

A brother and the stone brought down upon his head on an arc of greed and jealousy.

The swords weave webs of light in the moonbeam night. A cry sends a murder of crows away.

When the Gkkurt make love, they actually engage in felo-de-se war, their deathspawn streaming from entwined corpses.

The Meson class ship wages a war of probability, calculating googooplex possibilities of the enemy Meson class ship positions within sixteen femtoseconds. It takes .76 nanoseconds for the conflict to end, in a cloud of tortured plasma.

As long as there is a teller of tales, monomachy is eternal.

“Every explicit duality is an implicit unity.” – Alan Watts