That was the basic sense of it, anyways. It was much more complicated than that. All around people roared and cried out in mixtures of pain and victory. The place smelled of blood, if one could smell in dreams that is. The mind could play so many tricks, could it not? Ashura remembered it though and smelled it, smelled the acrid scent of smoke and burnt flesh. That would always be imprinted in his brain, no matter how the years passed. Of that he was sure.
He was astride his dragon horse, a large, four legged creature lined with dark red scales and a long, narrow face. Add in a maw filled with fangs and claws that could gouge through rock, and the creature was a death machine in and of itself. But then, that was why they were war animals. He was dressed in a simple white and black outfit with a single shoulder plate and a red obi wrap around his hips. In his hand glittered his crystal sword, clean of blood, though a pool of it lay beside Ashura and his mount - a perfect little spattered circle. His golden eyes watched the scene from his rocky overlook, the roaring and the screaming. He was dispassoniate, seemingly detached. Men fell and he did not so much as blink.
From behind him a soldier leaped, a war cry on his lips. Ashura twisted on his perch on his mount's back (he rode bareback), not at all worried and with a single sweep of his arm brought his sword around and sliced open his dream opponent. The man cried out and fell, tumbling over the side of the outcropping and Ashura went back to watching over the battlefield as if nothing had happened at all. ]
[ooc: totally open, and this is probably a side of ashura most people have never seen. You may choose to get hurt on the field or not, up to you since it IS a dream after all. Ashura knows it is and if he sees someone wander in he will come to 'defend' them. Also, you just might see some things from his past, if you're interested.]