Sometimes. On the dark days. I've killed more rocks than I can count. They haunt me. Rest easy my friend........ You put them out of their misery. That bastard Powell throws them in the fire!
�Out of every one hundred men, ten shouldn't even be there, eighty are just targets, nine are the real fighters, and we are lucky to have them, for they make the battle. Ah, but the one, one is a warrior, and he will bring the others back.�
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