His breath condensates the inside of an ancient bronze mask and through smooth cutouts, he surveys the
audacious sea of infantry that are standing tall, with honor awaiting their fate.
The birds scatter from the trees as a battle horn cry's, and howls through the hills. The pummel of drums begin.
Black Silhouettes appear on the horizon hauling with them darkness like night as they slowly flood his field of vision.
Ten thousand faceless beings advance, aggressively toward the chosen few ready to plunge there legendary ballista into the
flesh of the mortal man.
The battle drums increase in momentum and the horns shriek, and as these deities surge toward the warrior a sudden, overwhelming thought engulfs him like a flame..... These are the immortals, and this is their dance.