 Today's tale is titled, All Is Calm, Yes, All Is Well. Sparks and metal scattering, the battlefield turned to ash. Bolts of arcane flying past, men vanished within a flash. These men they cry out to you, the supplies are falling low. Your enemies approaching, surely with more to follow. Emotions blurred with panic yet a plan begins to form. Your fists sweep in a pattern, energy begins to storm. Hear those monsters calling you, dare not heed their awful cries. Hold your weapon at your side and surge on as magic flies. You holler as you charge in, in tandem machine and spell. The enemy still roaring, all is calm, yes, all is well. Your laboratory sterile, the room shaking from the blast. You ignore it, you tinker, the work must be finished fast. Those awful beasts towering, shadows cast upon your sight. Their footsteps swift approaching, you swear you'll put up a fight. Swiftly carving the symbols as they're banging on your door. Hit the ground, do not cower, show them what you have in store. You pull the trigger justly, bullets turn their bones to ash. In the ammo, magic flows, causing their bodies to mash. Your last attacker fallen, long gone far as you can tell. Rise to your feet with a sigh, all is calm, yes, all is well. Our numbers they keep dwindling, back to them we do the same. Both our men now so fatigued yet our anger still aflame. As tired as we may be, strategy will win this bout. For we refuse to meet an end, I swear we shall remain stout. Sigils carved into the dirt, brave men dare not be replaced. As unholy beasts shall rise, charge straight into danger's face. Terrible forces raging with magic's frightening blast. The battlefield prays for death as your spell begins to cast. Words entwined with fire and hate, your power and your rage swell. As it is released you grin, all is calm, yes, all is well. Dust awaiting to settle, the sun's light rises once more. Such death, bodies uncounted, I blink my eyes, my bones soar. The chemist groans to his feet, healing magic on his mind. The material he gathers, giving help to all he finds. In such men the foremen, ash covering his steel hands, raising men back to their feet, repairing all where he can. So the general lights the sig, her breath quick and unsteady, rallying us into our place, a speech they all made ready. Their men looked to them for aid, brushing my arm, ashes fell. With tired eyes they call out, all is calm, yes, all is well. Thank you for listening. Site 42 studios and its staff are funded by viewers like you. Please become a patron or visit our merch store at the link in our bio to support our work. Secure. Contain. Protect.