Men make their own fates - it's personal, not a matter for debate.

Painful things are quickly forgotten.

Gods have bloody hands.

Reasons never matter, once Death comes cold and bold and takes the living by the hand. You count up your dead, every one.

These warriors of the Sacred Band were inscrutable; they loved their war and death and picking through the bones of time to sort out right from wrong, good from bad, holy from profane, honor from dishonor.

You get what you expect. Expect to heal. Expect victory.

The Fates are here because of supernal anger, celestial imbalance, and arrogance of men and gods that must be curbed.