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.
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