Out on this field of moonlit snow. I will not be deterred by your ugliness. Before my sword your two heads will roll. I will not let my sword rest until its steel has sung for your ugly twin head. I'll wipe the sweat off my face with your bloody scalps and watch your four eyes telling me that your dead.
Collision is close now.
The swords are drawn, held high, they flash in the pale blue moonlight. Aiming at throats bare. The moment is so near. The time seems to halt for a while. Even the stars in the sky hold their breath.