Misty Woods

They move with the mists that cling to the forest floor. They seem stuck in time. Always looking for their enemy. Always battling them in the mists. The forests hold their secrets. They are never really gone. A Vahalla with no feasting. Only combat. Endless, eternal combat. 

The Roman, the Hun, the Visigoth, the Viking, the Foot Soldier, the Knight, the Catholic, the Protestant, the German, the French, the English, and the American. The continuing conflict of two millenia. Never ceasing. Always the same ground. The same blood. The same tears.

They move with the mists. If you listen, you can hear them. If you can hear them, heed them.