BURIED ONE DEATH CUT

The 'Warriorcore' be but a simple beast... Do. Do clinically. Unto Warriocore Ability. Just your best is not enough...

Reserves were low for the Warriocore, with an edict put out on weapons to not lose anymore. Of the battlefield scavenge the 'in spirit ways now' hoard. A spear or gained sword loss they could ill afford. On and off steed this Savannah birthed breed. Snatching bark out of trees even for weapons they'd need. Finally off the field from the Warrior Tone. 'Falcut', shield, spear, engraved names of glorious passed own. Then molten a kiln they'd need decreed. A site of Etruscan ore, mined near by for feed. With haste a base starting makeshift to smelter. Then forth steady base provided weaponry manufacture... out of Capua.

Secondary, tertiary 'Weapon Smites' from more cities based in after capture. Hadian places of foreboding scene, ether sparked to flamed rapture. Honed from firewater, served cold, stockpiled for the deliverer. Blessed by trinket moved with speed by cart, power steed and dispatcher. Under heavy armed guard escort, sometimes rear-guard and in stealth. For only need to know based purpose and disguised of carriage wealth. Sometimes moved around as if build equipment or cases as vase jars of wine. Being moved by humble peasant cloaked in garb of little refine nor prime to mask the scent from the swine. Had to move fast, for time running out, time and enemy. Could 'at time' work in tandem by design o' Fates Emissary. Had to move enlightened of environment aware. Makeshift 'roms' check gate un-circumnavigated, just slaughtered, then there. Seven years roaming 'Warricore' no fear, of roms resulted to tactics of a conscious self despair. Edict roms not to directly confront the still 'iller' will and Kill Bear... Beast that'd left its own and entered their lair.

THE BURIED ONE DEATH CUT

Since the time in ones life by thy Cadetian saga... You learned to keep your head in adversity against your potential murderer. From the Cadetian battlefield in your year of one, to Warriorcorite of battle hardened, murky to where this had all begun. Yet every plan like active and reactive instincts on some, to liberate of all material burdening and sent to The Sun. From the seemingly sealed some ranging warfield was branded to your soul then to the sword you’d wield.

The plan this particular day was to toy, with awe and wonder to make a man out a boy. To make all seem well asunder, under feet the land opens a 'crack' like jagged lightning on thunder... To take a recreation 'back'. To make a marching troupe in their singularity embroiled. All a sudden shaken, taken, cut and merged 'back' with one and soil... By the Buried One Death Cut.

The land this time of year at certain times of day from near morn, would be deep in fog mist to hinder progress through dawn. The land even in hot summer would be softer still to assist the industry of a diggers will. Such qualities were important for maximum effect, those trained of The Seaborne would be this ‘Wills’ Select...

For where they stray ones'll streamline said way to The Land of Hades for those unfortunate that day.

Affirmation to attest for the toil to be done:

I put what is left of me in the hands of destiny. The ultimate test for I'm in misery. The journey to walk, highest peak deepest troughed valley.

To The Death in battle if necessary...

To The Death in battle if meant for me.

To The Death, for this life, fight for meant to be...

Ask Death, with this life, if it's meant of thee.