We who make war.

“Sure we’ve had a few nasty scraps in our time. Hell the battle helping the Grayscales was… well it was a battle. But this was different as I see it. This is what they call war. No, this was only the beginning of war, wasnt it?

I felt something odd in the wind that day, a whisper I had not heard before. I didnt know what is was. I know now. The whisper was small at first, subtle I mean, you… dread it, you can almost guess what it is. You get the feeling to turn away, but you cant, something about it makes you want to know more. Its a cold wind, yet it blisters you, like the hot sun. Its like heavy air, and yet your mouth is dry. Much like the saltflats I might add. And it only gets worse. Once it has you in its grasp it destroys you and everything else, whatever or whoever is left is changed forever. This is war.

I lost my half-breed bastard brother that day,(the big one with the two swords), and I almost lost a human brother,(the one who explodes things). I knew it could happen, we dont exactly live a quiet life, but I didnt think one would fall so soon. Hell my other half-breed bastard brother,(the one who shoots arrows backwards!… but not by his choosing..) has fallen MANY times, he always got back up.

No, this is not the same, this is war. And it will be the end of all we know, we who make it."




We who make war.

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