“They gathered on the pitch, the overcast sky causing a somber mood. Together they prayed, not knowing which god, if any, would listen. The crowds' roars were as nothing to them, each lost in his own thoughts of eternal peace.

Blood flowed, bodies fell and when the dust settled there was much rejoicing, Jim Telling was the first amongst them to find rest, though many were bitter, it was known that in the end he would come for them all.

Some of the players felt better equiped to take to the arena, they cast their eyes downwards, saddened that this might lengthen their stay upon this tainted world.

'You can cry until there is nothing wet left inside you,
Scream until you throar rebels, and ruptures.
Pray to whatever gods you think will listen...
... But it just goes on and on....
...And if it should change you will know
It's not because they cared'”