"Remember us." As simple an order as a guardian can give. "Remember why we died." For he did not wish tribute nor song, nor monuments, nor poems of war and valour. His wish was simple: "Remember us," he said to me. That was his hope. Should any free soul come across that place, in all the countless centuries yet to be, may all our voices whisper to you from the ageless stones: Go tell the World's passer-by that here by Lobotomizer law, we lie. So my guardian died and my brothers died... Barely a year ago, long I pondered my guardian's cryptic talk of victory; time has proven him wise. But from fearless Lobotomizers to heartless Morticians, the word was spread that bold Cleaverstone and his 14, so far from home, laid down their lives, not just for them, but for all GOW players and the promise this country holds. Now, here on this ragged patch of earth called Jacinto, Myrrah's hordes face obliteration! Just there the Lowcust huddle, sheer terror gripping tight their hearts with icy fingers, knowing full well what merciless horrors they suffered at the gnashers and hammerbursts of 14. Yet they stare now across the plain at 10,000 Lobotomizers commanding 30,000 free COGS! Hahoo! The enemy outnumber us a paltry three to one; good odds for any COG. This day we rescue a world from mysticism and tyranny, and usher in a future brighter than anything we could imagine. Give thanks men! To Cleaverstone, and the brave 14! To victory!