An interesting thing about swords. They mark the end of your life with a swing, or as a post in the ground. They sustain your life as a block, or as they cut your daily meal. They can begin your life as a tribulation, or your first game of knights. But never does a cloud fear one. You can shout, you can swing, you can block, you can cut. You can play, you can be the mightiest of knights. Yet, it does not fear, it just floats. And when it feels you’ve had enough, it reposts, and you get wet. No direct harm, just wet. You are cold, you are miserable, you could stay and fight. Yet it is unharmed. In the end. You will catch cold and die. But the cloud will float, continue to enjoy and protect the evil ball off fire, as is its duty. One must envy the power and carefree nature of such a position. For not many get such grant and leeway. But to retreat and regroup is alway an option, and a sword is the direct, but not singluar option. For all things can be overcome. A shiny sword layed upon the ground will even make a gaggle of squirrels crowd about. What does that mean? I don’t know, but its a SHINY SWORD DAMNIT! GAZE UPON IT!!!!! ( if the squirrels thinks its neat shouldn’t you? look…. its alotttttttt of squirrels… .common mass crowd appeal… you know you wanna… ) 
