Shall the be a second coming of the Legion? The storm brews in the hearts of warriors laid to rest, ill-content to lay low without their battle-brethren. Each thunderclap is stark reminder of the clash of steel against flesh, ice and fire. Smells of brimstone are ineffable from the daily wash. Memories persist and pervade. Memories of spears pinning down tangles of limbs, rending demonic skin asunder Battle-cries rally our fellow warriors into formation to battle and cull chaos back into its cage. The call, a flame re-ignited for our burning warrior passion, has been made. The path for our spirits to arise from death, and always edging the faint line between life and death, has been lit. But shall we, they who have braved perils beyond perils and only together have won out, answer?