As long as life's fire has been burning - entangled in 
the elements of whatever shape, sentient or non-
sentient,
inhabiting whatever dimension - its shady counterpart 
death has lured the living into despair, bringing them 
disease,
disaster... war! And as long as life can be found, 
battles will be fought.
If not on earth, then perhaps in the sky above the 
clouds, beyond the stars, beyond our universe,
in heaven or in hell. And whoever take part in the 
slaughter:
ancient gods, alien races, human beings, or even the 
smallest of creatures, they will fight guided by the 
past:
a past painted red with bloodshed. Some things will 
never go away, as if being burned into the frail skin 
of remembrance.
And they will haunt your mind as often as they can.
All of those sacred memories have distinct tastes and 
pains and they remind you of the times of a past now in 
slumber: times of victory.
And these thoughts and collectively inherited visions 
form the remembrance of war.
blood that had slowly seeped out of the gaping
wounds of all those pagan children that bravely
died in war fighting for their empire... and mine. 
Although they died in great pain, their skills
and honour still live on. In the far corners of my head 
I can find the penetrating screams that were
violently cast into the weeping icecold winterwinds 
that randomly ran through these fields of Death
and Armageddon and froze the faces of our dying 
warriors, and bathed the piles of skulls in beds
of blinding snow. But neither cold nor heat could stop 
us from our mission of domination. In my chest
there is the excruciating pain inflicted by the spears 
and swords of the weakened and defeated
enemy forces. Oh how they had cast themselves into the 
open arms of Death, into a battle destined
to be lost. But those fools need not to be pitied for 
their deaths, but for their lives.
And now, at this day and age, I still hold the flag of 
our regained empire firmly in my hands.
And it will wave for all eternity.