War woke from his sleep, struck by the cold rain that had just began to sprinkle. He rose and let out his hand to feel the raindrops. He smirked, feeling a sense of peace. All of the soldiers were asleep, all of them lie still under their tents. The soft tapping of heavier raindrops began to knock on War's head and ears. He pulled his hood up, shielding his eyes from rain. The sady ground was dry, and looked as if it appreciated the coming of actual rain from it's long break off of hydration. He decided to scout out, incase this small tie of piece he had was merely a decoy for the next Line of Tyrants to come out from nowhere, and for all he knew, they acutally might. He traversed the flat ground, stopping at a dead tree; He leaned next to it, and rolled it to the side. Assortments of insects and reptiles slithered and scatterred from the presence of War. He quickly, though, scooped up a small iguana, barely a adosolent. War held the reptile for a short while, and the picked a small beetle, the offered the iguana the treat. The iguana accepted, eating it quickly, before looking as if it had licked it's chops. The reptile shivvered from the cold rain, and climd into War's sleeve. War let the animal sit there, not caring if he had company on this short, self-appointed scouting mission. After a short while, war walked back to the camp, unsatisfied from the findings, not having had seen anything. He thought such a thing meant the Tyrants were hiding, watching, waiting for the perfec tpoint of weakness. War had no idea how much intellegince these clockwork monsters possessed. He became fond of calling the reptile by the name of Crodium, thinking of the name off the top of his brainy head. War pulled his ax right up to him, and pulled a sharpening brick from his side-pouch. He begfan to hone the blade, and began to hammer the tenderizer-like side into shape. After War was satisfied with his sharpening and hammering, he stook the blade into a boulder, keeping the edge clean. He laid his head down to sleep. He dreamed of the laughter of no-longer virtuous vixens, the clanking of mugs, and joyfull squealing. All these sounds came to be from the Eternal Brothel, the way to go when a decent, unmaried life is tooken. He thougt these dreams to be a sign from Zorn, that she wanted him to die and join her and her subjects in the Brothel. He shook his head awake, and did so sweating. When he did so, he heard the sounds of war, and drew his ax from stone, Crodium whimpering at the sight of the new Line of Tyrants.
