Shar stood before his centurions, one hundred pikes with iron tower shields an inch thick in twenty rows of five columns. He drew out the rust red iron blade and held it over his head as he spoke out before his men with Negative energy in the form of crackling arcs of purple lightning erupting from the blade.

"You know me as the Pious One, I Worship the allseeing, you do not need to believe in what I believe in to believe, so hear me and know me to your heart!
[b]GRUUMSH! I will not kneel in prayer for my salvation. Fight, fight for the glory of your gods. Gruumsh does not help those who kneel before him, Gruumsh does not save those who pray for mercy, for those are not true prayers. Will you beg in presence of your lord? Your impiety begs only for death. True prayer is forged in battle, Dazzle your Lord with your prayer and you shall know him, you shall know GRUUMSH!. After the tearing, the crushing, the breaking of mens bones, when the fruits of our prayers lie at our feet, Gruumsh will descend from his throne on high to bring judgement upon these wretched pittiful servants.[/b]"
 
There was a power in his voice, something wholly unholy about his drive as he turns and marches on to the fort with an army at his heels. They had their orders to take the fort, all eyes on them, all the bees after the turtle. But he resided outside the protection, only a shirt of chain to protect his heart and his faith to keep him alive.