They say Black Dow's killed more men than winter, and clawed his way to
the throne of the North up a hill of skulls. The King of the Union, ever
a jealous neighbor, is not about to stand smiling by while he claws his
way any higher. The orders have been given and the armies are toiling
through the northern mud. Thousands of men are converging on a forgotten
ring of stones, on a worthless hill, in an unimportant valley, and
they've brought a lot of sharpened metal with them.
THE HEROES
For glory, for victory, for staying alive.