“And verily the tribe they call the Golden Panthers did march toward the Promised Lands, and along the way they met many followers of The Angel, and The Saint, and The Cursed People, and they met them with cheers, for the people said, ‘Do not be afraid!  The one they call Saban is but a man as we!  Take heart, and you may defeat him!’  And the general that led this army did take heart, and his confidence grew.  But as they were about to leave camp, one of the Cursed People came to him, clothed in no more but rags and filth (as was the style of his kind), and said, ‘Great general, my own people scorn me for my words, but I tell you the truth.  My brethren do not see the Storm that has risen to the West.  They believe it merely a summer squall that shall thunder and rain, and then pass.  But I have seen its clouds reach to the height of the heavens, and they are mighty, and strong in foundation, and though they beat down rain upon their foe they do not fade away, and when the lightning of the Unmerciful Saban strikes you, you have not the time to despair.  Turn around, march home, and your men shall wake again in the morrow.’  And the general put on a brave face and marched on, but in his heart he knew that what the old man said was true.

The sun was setting when the Golden Panthers arrived in the Promised Lands, and the general intended to make camp and make preparations for the coming battle.  However, as the first tent was pitched, a horn sounded in the distance that sounded as if it were the cry of the mighty pachyderm.  ‘Make ready your weapons,’ the general told his men.  ‘Saban approaches.’  And he told his field commander, ‘You must lead them from the front.’

And approach the Dark Lord did, with The Great leading the Exalted Army, and like a bolt from the sky did the wave of the Great Saban’s forces hit their foe.  But before the first drop of sweat hit the hallowed clay, a mighty roar rang out from the middle of the battleground.  All turned to look, and they saw The Great kneeling, the bodies of a full fifty enemies surrounding him as if in humble worship.  ‘These men struck my leg,’ he bellowed.  ‘May none of you approach me, or your fate shall be the same as theirs.’  And with this he stood, and he limped not, though he was in pain, and he returned to the front line.  There, he called to a young warrior whom the Great Saban had found in the lands to the South of the promised land, and whom many other generals had called upon, but whom had pledged his services to Saban only.  And The Great called him near, and he said, Greater battles have I to fight, and I do no good in victory if it be my last.  I return to our Dark Lord’s side to rest, and one must serve in my stead.  In days gone by, before my virtues were well known, they called me The Great Youth, for my years were few, but my talents many.  Now, I am called Youth no more, though that title still holds great glory.  Now I give it to you, Great Youth, and you shall lead these men as I have and will again.’

The Great Youth, as he was now called, took his place at the front line, and the men looked upon him in wonder.  His braids did flow from his helm as The Great, and though he was shorter in stature, he was broader in chest and faster in stride.  And just as if he had come from the womb with sword and shield, he charged ahead and led the merciless attack of the Exalted Army.  The Golden Panthers tried again and again to counter the onslaught, but their pitiful charges broke like waves break on the sands and the rocks.  And when The Dark Lord saw this, he turned to The Great, who was by his side, and said, ‘Look, aight.  The tide does rise, and it swallows that within its reach, and their cries of fear self-gratify us all.’  As the day looked bleaker for his men, the Panthers’ field commander tried to gather what courage remained among their number and lead a desperate attack on the flank of the Exalted Army.  But as he arrived, the wise men now say, the defenses of Saban pushed back with such might that the stomping of their boots felled their foes before their swords could even strike.  And as the sun shined no more this day, and the moon was high in the sky, cheers rang across the field, for the Exalted Army of the Sabanic Empire was victorious once more.

As as his enemies fled back to the south like the swallows in late autumn, The Dark Lord sent a messenger to carry his will to the general who led them.  And the messenger said, ‘Great Saban, the enemy does flee.  How can I catch them to deliver your message?’  And the Dark Lord’s face grew less gruff, and a lesser man would have smiled, and he said, ‘Have you not seen what has happened this day?  No man of his can outstride any man of mine.’  And with this the messenger was off, and as the Great Saban had sad, he soon caught the general and delivered the message.  ‘General,’ asked the weary who counted themselves lucky enough to be still on foot, ‘What has he told us?’  And the general replied, ‘He says that he knows that as we marched to these lands, we met the cheers of many who would oppose him, and he says we return to our homes by his will alone.  And thus he bids us tell those who cheered us as we return that they have filled us with lies, and that the Great Saban is as they say he is, and verily, we are to tell them that their fate soon approaches.’”