March of Blood, Day 2

The march continues, and war drums sound in the distance. The time for battle nears…

The sins of Gluttony, Ego, and Sloth had long plagued the people of El Morad. With their defeat the provisional forces of the nation had at last shed the influence that long plagued its people. Now, they could begin to move forward. Now, it was beginning to be said, progress could be made. Even the disagreeable Commander Gavinka began to hazard a hope—though he’d be loathe to admit it—that perhaps, with a bit of luck, this makeshift El Moradian army just might stand a chance against the indignant zeal of the Karus. Only time would tell, however. The real battles, Gavinka knew, lie ahead.

He sharpened his sword, and offered a whispered entreaty to the gods. The ancient word for victory, it had been a battlecry in his younger days. It had always brought him luck. Perhaps it still had a little magic left in it.

“Huu-ah!”

Wrath was vanquished with a clarity yet unmatched by previous warriors of the Karus Nation. The Karus Collective, as they were beginning to call themselves because of the hodge-podge collection of clans and alliances, had proven its worth. They struck out against Envy with sureness of purpose, broke the dominion Lust for power held over their hearts. Through strength and honor they had freed themselves.

There was a time when they would cry “Vengeance!” before entering into battle, but the days of doing so were no more. Such epithets were the shouts of children howling for the attention of an oblivious parent. The Karus Collective was different now, changed. They were stronger and had matured as a people, as an army, as a nation. Now only calmness, and a will to overcome remained. The wild desire to enact vengeance at any cost had been tempered, turned by the careful guidance of Xagok into a goal, a purpose. A singular phrase was on the mouths of every warrior. In the crowded halls and dim-lit pubs of Luferson Castle, in the chambers, and whispered through the alleys, it grew like an avalanche.

“Allu--ia!” was the cry. Translated it meant “Akara eternal,” and it would be the last thing, Xagok promised the Collective, the El Morad soldiers would ever hear.