From the Book of Foes:

“As the sun rose on the second day, the Grand Army was refreshed, and they were merry as they strapped on their helms and their bright armor, for they knew that a great victory lay before them.  And at the other camp, there was much wailing from those too injured to return to battle, and even louder wailing from those who were not injured enough to stay back at the camp.  And The Great Ears slowly returned his navy robe to his thin shoulders, for he knew the time had come to march to his doom.

After the Grand Army had assembled, the Dark Lord rode to the front of their ranks, and finding them to his liking, he spoke, ‘Twelve battles have we fought on this campaign, and twelve foes have we left Processed.  We marched to the Great City, and there we Processed one who knew not the might of his father.  The waters ran Green into the Promised Lands, but the Tide swept them away.  The Mercenary General was vanquished, and the Great Kangaroo crushed.  The Grizzled General knew no joy, nor did Nutteus Maximus.  The Vile One was Processed, the barbarians defeated, The False Prophet silenced, The Traitor annihilated!  Now only one task lies before you.  Sweep through their cursed ranks.  Leave no man standing.  If you cause a foe to fall, and he still draws breath, make him crawl to you and beg for you to finish your errand.  And when this is done, find The Great Ears.  Harm him not, taunt him not, curse him not.  Bring him before me, and let him know true despair, relative to meeting my Great Process face to face.’

As the moon commands the Tides to rise, so too did the Dark Lord’s commands take root in the minds of his followers.  And so great was their passion, and so relentless their competitive instinct, that they swept away the enemy that day as the water sweeps away the sand of the Southern beaches.  The Great Ears saw this, and he was paralyzed with fear.  He looked around for his personal guard, but they had either fallen or had forsaken him.  The host that he had marched with flew back to the East.  Not even the stars of the heavens cast light upon his face.  He turned back toward the battle field, and his heart sank as he heard the booming voice of The Great say, ‘General…you shall come with me.’

And as he had been commanded, The Great brought the fallen foe before his master, and Ears fell prostrate at the Dark Lord’s feet.  The Dark Lord reached into his pocket, and he withdrew a Debbie cookie, and he offered it to his enemy, and said, ‘Eat.’  Shaking, the Great Ears drew it to his lips.  But before his teeth could touch its creamy goodness, the Dark Lord’s mighty boot kicked it from his hands.  ‘You have taunted my people!  You have spread falsehoods about their power!  You have cursed our names!  You have raised yourself at our expense!  And now, my old friend, I bring you justice relative to The Process.’

And all the wind of the Earth ceased to blow, and the very sound of the night fell silent, and the eyes of the Dark Lord glowed with a sickening crimson light, and out of those terrible eyes flew a shining beam filled with the sheer hatred of all the people of the Eastern Wastelands.

And the Grand Army looked upon the spot where the Great Ears once kneeled, and naught was there but the untouched Debbie cookie.  The Dark Lord stooped, and picked it up, and he processed it.  And he turned to his army and spake, ‘This is over.  Return to our camp.  We have much work to do.’”

From the Book of Foes:

“As the Dark Lord began his charge, his Grand Army followed close behind, their columns tights, their lungs crying out with a bellowing howl made of pure hatred for the foe that awaited them.  The Dark Lord reached the front lines with The Great at right hand, The Mountain at his left.  The three strong steeds that bore The Mountain could support him no longer, and their legs failed them, and he leaped from their backs and crashed into the enemy like a boulder into the forest of young saplings.  None could withstand his might, and the last sight those that met him saw was the heel of his mighty boot, thrusting downward to send them to their fathers.

The Great flanked to the right.  He led the Lightning Legion, a group of skilled warriors so fleet of foot that their full sprint was said to pull the cheeks of the foes they vanquished so tautly in their wake that those unfortunate souls would fall with their lips pulled back into a smile.  And smile they should have, for those lucky few felt the cold grip of their own demise before the full strength of the Grand Army could fall upon them like a pack of vultures upon a three legged tiger.

As the battle raged on, the Dark Lord stood in the middle of the battle field, surveying the action with a scowl so fierce that the eagles in the sky, spying his expression with their keen eyes, fainted from terror and fell from the very sky as does hail from the blackest cloud.  But the Cursed Ones fought on, for they knew that their doom had now been sealed, and their final errand was to fight a battle that would prevent the yellowed grass of cowardice from growing atop their graves.

Blow after blow was traded, and try as they might the Cursed Army could not hold back the advancing ranks of Saban’s soldiers.  They vainly tried to counter every charge, but the defenses the Dark Lord had laid were so strong the aggressors broke upon its face as the raindrop breaks upon the fortress’s strongest stone.  ‘Follow me!’ The Mountain cried, as he chased a retreating corps back towards the safety of their faltering lines.  ‘We must finish what we have started!’  And so his men did follow, but his gusto was so great that he ran too far ahead, and soon found himself surrounded by three foes.  One of them lunged at his great helm, but The Mountain caught his hands in the midst of the strike.  This was only a ruse, as the other two Cursed soldiers flung themselves at those knees which put the most knotted oak in the forest to shame.  But alas, even this treachery brought them no advantage, for The Mountain deftly dodged their assault, and with his monstrous paws he grasped all three men and hurled them so far that those who had gathered to watch the carnage swore they spied three shooting stars from the heavens.

As day faded into night, The Great Ears’s fear turned to mortal terror.  ‘Who is this foe I see?’ he cried.  ‘So many times have I met this army and been victorious!  So many times have I bested them that the fingers on my hands cannot count the triumphs!  How could we do so little against those we hate so much?’  And with this thought his heart panicked, and he ordered another assault before day became night.  But this, too, was doomed and though his men penetrated deep into the heart of the Great Saban’s defenses, they were soon surrounded once more, and their very arrows were swatted from the sky.  The moon rose over the Promised Lands, although the mist was so thick that none could see it, and The Great Ears ordered a retreat back to what little ground he still controlled.

‘My master,’ The Great asked, ‘Shall I take the Lightning Legion and crush those who were so unlucky to still draw breath?’  Without hestitation, the Dark Lord told him, ‘Take all our legions and retreat to the safety of our camp.  The moon has no luster, and the fog is so thick that you would be robbed of seeing the hopeless eyes of the foes you vanquish.  Tomorrow the light shall come anew, and I want all who have gathered to see my full might relative to the utter destruction of my most hated foe.  Take our men and rest, for the light of day will illuminate the faces of those whose destiny it was to be Processed.’”

To be concluded…