"Damn it all, you three are talkers," Vol said, grasping the shaft of his large axe as it hung from his hip. "There'll be no dying. If you're my tools, I don't want rid of you. There's been far too much effort put into sharpening you. You're all stronger now – show these fools what we can do."
His tone was angry, even though he hadn't intended it to be. Anger came to Vol as the most natural of his emotions. It was an old friend that he could reach for and rely on. In the face of the impossible circumstance that they faced, Vol found he could grasp for that anger, and still believe in the chances of their victory.
"ALL MEN!" Vol boomed, raising his axe up once more.
He'd let his soldiers stew in his words, and their own emotions. He'd done the same for the villagers. By the time Vol's voice resounded out again, they were ready.
