Earning rest

Joy filled the ranks, climbing high with the blurting horns and sounding trumpets, casting their calls out over the the depth of the valley before the host of men. The sun went with them as they stepped down into hell, side by side, armor shining over their endless shoulders, gleaming from on high like the slow stroke of a divine. "Let's give them steel!" A man cries among the horde. Grins abound all around. These men seem to be marching into a mead hall, rather than down to their dooms. The truth holds them at odds. The truth, holds them firmly in graves yet dug. Legion of monsters, an endless writhing darkness lies before them in the valley. Clouds muffle and suffocate the sun ahead, dark storm clouds hang low and the only light is theirs, shrieking across their halls in bright flashes followed by the booming laughter of the hated demigogues. Yet the men, these men. Cry their victory cheers, rattle sword hilts on shields and hoist spear and pike high. They march to absolution. All true darkness, to these warriors, lies behind them. The rest is ahead, they need but earn it.