My name is Lily. Or it used to be. Over time, my name has been forgotten. I was the last of Seven sisters long ago. Together, we ruled in harmony with the earth. Our life was a peaceful one, nestled between two great mountains in a plentiful valley. Our herd was unkown to most, or so we thought. Then, the men from the West came forth. They were vicious and blood thirsty people. My sisters and I attempted negotiations with them, and we tried in vain. The men only wanted our women for their own cruel purposes of war, and to turn their feilds as if we were some kind of beast. One by one, my sisters were slain. One by one, their blood was silently avenged. My herd, desperate to preserve the life they knew, begged for the opportunity to take a stand. I rose as their warrior, leading them forth into battle. Their spirits were strong, but the men from the West were stronger. Still, we pushed forward until I stood face to face with the one who lead the invaders. A coward he was and turned and ran. I followed until I was unable to run and fight anymore. Their men bound me and swore to let my herd live if I would release them unto their leader as the lowliest of servents to his land. This angered me and I spat curses of the earth at him. It was then that the torture began, and with each episode, the offer was given. After quite some time had past, the leader came again before me, and offered once more, only this time, my life for theirs. Again I refused and my life was then ended. Without one to lead them, my herd surrendered, and were murdered as well.

I now walk among strange new people, in a strange new land. Their ways and customs very different than mine, yet, oddly enough, I can understand their speech. Why I am here, and not in the afterlife, I already know the answer, yet do not understand it.

My initial observations of these people here have lead me to believe I must fight my way out of this place. None are friendly, nor trusting of an outsider. Thier distrust has been noted, and I will learn from this.

Scarred from wounds that time cannot heal, and that time will not forget, I will rise again, and will not be as naive as I was in my last life. If it is a war they want, then a war they shall have.