The open steppe, fleet horse, falcons at your wrist, and the wind in your hair.
Wait, no.
To crush your enemy. To see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of their women.
Wait, no.
To crush your enemy. To see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of their women.
![[Image: BZneHYK.jpg]](http://i.imgur.com/BZneHYK.jpg)
No Gods and Precious Few Heroes
