Editing Setting:Heavy mythril (section)

==The Ever Marching Battalion==
The Ever Marching Battalion is not a single deity, rather it is a force which has joined with the one true song and is revered as a pantheon.  There are those who believe that they are the reincarnation of these warriors, and seek to ensure that their tale is forever told, and one day return to their comrades.

Long ago, the much of the world was ruled by a single government which claimed to be masters of all they surveyed. A theocracy, claiming to be the heralds of the one true God. Ever paranoid of rebellion, or of schism within their ranks, they fortified every holding they could. They mowed down any that dissented brutally. Their soldiers were cold and heartless on the battlefield. They left their wounded as they died and called it God's will. They employed horsemen whose sole duty it was to spread fear of demons in the people, so that they would rely on their blind faith and not question their leaders. All who lived feared these shadows of murder.

Inevitably, a rebellion arose. A million men, secretly biding their time in the military until the time was right to strike, marched upon the capital. Their mark was the distinguishing spiked iron boots they wore, to symbolize how they would trample the corrupt government. Thousands of feet marched in despair that day as they slew their former comrades and neighbors. When they laid siege to the capital, mages in its towers conjured a winter the likes of which had never been seen before. In the beginning days, thousands died in the mud, in coming months, many more died from the freezing cold. Those left carved the names of the fallen into stones and sang songs of their glory to keep them alive in their hearts.. They vowed that they would honor their names along with their fallen foes forever. Months passed, and eventually all of the rebels in the spiked iron boots passed on. Though they did not know it, they had defeated their enemy, the pure power of the mages' spell is all that kept the cold winter storms going. When the storms had subsided, the people realized that both sides were dead. It is said that now, in the long cold winter, in the raging of storms, that one can hear the marching and singing of those brave warriors in sabatons. There are those who revere them as a deific force, given tribute by those that seek to throw off the shackles of tyranny.