| QUOTE |
| Days of marching had made us weary. Time was recorded in steps, each one feeling like a years torture. We often wondered...why fight...why go through this pain and trouble. But each time, each and every time...he would come, and remind us of our children, our wives, our city. And each time he did so are burdens lifted up, and arose within us was valor, and the spirit of a warrior. The ground would shake to our bellowing roars of animosity, and our enemies knees would buckle to it. You see, theres nothing more dangerous than one who has everything to lose. And when one realizes that, within himself...hell is unleashed by him, with every swipe of his sword and hammer. The angels would be known, after every block and parry we made with our shields, even when we did not see the attack coming. We weren't gods. No, gods would've shown mercy. We were men fighting for everything we believed in, and we were willing to make the effort to fight for it. The pain didn't come from the weight of the swords,hammers, and shields in our hands, nor the did it come from the pain we suffered from our beastly enemies. It came from our hearts. They were overwhelmed at how much love could it could take in, and be channeled into power. |