I served many years at the forts of Mystical. Many long nights I would fight and many days I would also. I had nothing except my sword, my armor, and my body. I was nothing but a death machine, issuing carnage everyday. Then she should up. Her hair was golden and her eyes were the sky. She was perfection. A calm sight to a man of death. She would heal my wounds when I came in from the battle. Many a night she would run cool water across my face. I would sleep with her lap as my pillow and wish the pain and gore and blood away. My face still stained with the grime and blood was only my job to her. My heaven was now her. Life had now found greatness. I lived. I was alive. Life had found balance. Life had found all that I needed. But God changed plans and we all found new jobs, and lost all that we had ever wanted.