Weekly Expressions Week #7 Joe

         Dirige nos Deus, noster clangoris, hostium animus erit fundo! Guide us God, is our battle cry, the enemy will be defeated! I am a soldier under the command of the Roman Empire, and vast are our forces. As we march into battle now, bows and arrows, spears and swords, shields guarding us from the oncoming slaughter, we all know what is about to commence. The army who we are at war against, I myself do not know, although I hear tell this rabble is a vicious one, of such those who become their slaves are never heard of again. They're not yet in a javelin's thrusting distance, so it doesn't seem threatening as of this moment. We're armed to the teeth with equipment, that it would be a miracle on their part to vanquish us.

        Hence this moment the other side has arrived! Broad-shouldered, burly, and mangy, these filth of the earth will taste our blades of thunder. I pray only we survive, for you never realize it only could be the day, as you reach this conclusion: your waging in epic warfare could come to an unpleasant ending. SHIFT! They've made their ranks ready, now what of ours? A rider from the opposing army canters forward with a haughty air about him, thinking hopes of triumph are set already. The loathsome worm finally turns beside the front of the lines, shouting certain demands and all other nonsense.

       "I've come only to say that my master, if you agree to the terms of surrender, will be most graciously inclined to let everyone go freely their way", he sneered."So without further delaying, if I do say so myself, give up! Very useless is your predicament, and my lord's a man of his word."

       "Never!", yelled our leader."What right hath you to come to us with your snide remarks, and utter coy phrases. You obviously have no idea what manner of forces you're talking to! The very idea, traipsing over here on your horse, telling us to surrender ourselves over, nonsense!"

      "Well.....", said the man."What should I tell him?" The bloke looked then as if to say,"What next?"

      Our leader, with the swiftest agility I've never seen demonstrated in my life ever, took out his sword and slit the blaggard's throat. Blood began to drench the soldier's armor instantly, leaving the scum "devoid of breath" you might say. With that done, the man who was leading us into this fight lifted a up a mighty shout. So did we all. Our oppressors sent up their battle cry too, and with that being said or yelled, the entire throng charged towards each other. Our side against their side. First the arrows began zipping threw the sky, then landing down on poor souls in the fray. Cries, shrieks of agony could be heard throughout the battlefield, with the constant images of gory disfigured brawlers being mangled up in the onslaught. Catapults chucking giant balls of fire, limbs getting lopped off of bodies everywhere, things were appearing rough for our combatants. That's more like it! But as their's numbers dwindled, the victory was in our hands.

      We had won. After bloodshed, warring, striking down the foe, it was finished. We then started the process of making sure all were dead, 'cause unwanted survivors are annoying to say the least. As champions once again, it was time to return home, but there was one thing I had to do. I knelt down on one knee and prayed. Deo Gratias nam in victoriam! Meaning,"Thanks be to God for the victory!