It was a dark night and the clowds loomed heavy in the distance.  On the morrow theend to the greatest battle that the world had ever seen would take place.  Field Commander Tiler DaVious sat amongst his batallion of men, they were making the most of the night for they all knew what the morning would bring.  Many men had taken off to their tents with a women at their side, most in fear of the unknown at what state, if in any state that they may be in come this time tomorrow.  However the air was filled with music and laughter, the exebureance of boasters tales of former battles being told around campfires lifted mens spirits, tears and an everlooming fear that death may come tomorrow. This would be our last confrontation with the beasts for all have gathered from each of our lands to take up the call to arms in fight amongst our our adversaries. Till now losses have been almost equal among us, tomorrow the ranks of our numbers ought to be a thousand verses a thousand.  Pitiful, isnt it, war I mean so many have died two nations will see the end of thier futures by sun down tommorrow.