These Stepsons tread where mortals don't belong, some of us think. They seek out battle high above their station. Who knows what powers may yet take them and their mystic allies to task, bring them their comeuppance?

Only from chaos does order come. The angry Fates bring death where they will, when war is king, says Enlil, storm god of the armies, and the tip of his crown rends the clouds above their heads. "Wheresoever I rule, death comes shambling after. So it has always been, is, and will be."

This was what men fought for, what men died for: a chance at life, and to fight on other days - the battle of your choice, of the body, or the heart, or the soul.

Everything that anyone respects is what men naturally excel at: fighting, accruing wealth, playing at power.

Every man's in his own hands, with a little help from his brothers.

Gods are nothing without their worshipers; they act on the affairs and the passions of men.

When you give death, you give of your own life - every time.