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One year ago today the first of June of the year 2016, a day that would change the lives of thousands, a day that marked the fall of many and the rise of few. On this day a small community occupied by less than a hundred was over ran by the ravenous minions of a man with considerable power a man whose minions will obediently do anything he asked of them. He fed them propaganda teaching them his ways in a new land pushing to overcome the reluctant fighters who were there first as has happened so many times in human history. Everyone of these people had their own motives and drives desires to achieve in this new land some were smarter than others and immediately designated teams under their leader to set up bases for supply collection the naive ones served the smarter forming some factions to the ultimate one under their glorious leader who continued to tour the land to show off all entertained, he portrayed a land of milk and honey wealth and growth glory and fame and yet the members saw little of it the fighters of the land quickly strut down their bases raw power and guerrilla techniques overcoming what they didn't have by way of numbers. Some say that in one battle three men flew forty of the newcomers but this did not stop me and this wave of brutes who suck the land dry, villages basins farms and sanctuaries sprung up at a remarkable speed the faction members working quickly to supply each other and even put together armor and powerful weapons to fight back against the original hundred. One by one they began to fall whether killed in combat or deserting future lost hope the hundreds slowly began to grow bigger their numbers slowly but surely decreased and the newcomers surged with pride at the terrible deeds they were committing the leaders propaganda grew at an explosive rate encouraging to many who came that the original men had declared were first, and that they deserved to die. Hope grew thin as wave after wave of newcomers trampled the once-thriving land none paid attention to the fact that, outside of the rich who controlled the operations their own men were starving dying off bodies were strewn across the land falling to exhaustion in the middle of their tracks backpacks overflowing with useless items tree trunks bare from those who desperately eat the last remaining apples. Outside of the few sanctuaries whose locations had become secret the newcomers were dying too at what would be a remarkable rate however the leader rich and proud would not help his people, he reaped the awards took the best equipment his slaves had to offer and push to murder what was left of the hundred hoping to claim or kill everything that was good about this new land until nothing was left. The original hundred were now down to 50 and desperate fear had stricken them all each had slain hundreds even thousands but the newcomers still outnumbered them by a considerable amount for every one they killed ten more would join the fight for every base destroyed ten were will be erected every farm sanctuary or monuments back down would be blown sky-high and yet they did continue to appear they were strong brave and proud but their inability to overcome the continually unleashing tides was betting the backs of even their most powerful hope seemed lost then during a meeting one man approached with an idea he had looked closely into the propaganda that the newcomers leader continually released analyzing the psychology so used to trick his faction into ignoring the death of their friends and keep reaping the fruits of the lands with no care for consequence this man came forward with his own propaganda a trick that he hoped would turn the newcomers against themselves see he knew that they all wanted to be special like the leader himself he knew that they all wanted designated rank their names to be known among community over others not everyone can be noted for everyone else and yet each and every one desired this special individuality because it gave him a chance to be closer to their leader with individuality came a stronger chance of getting to directly speak to the leaders to enter the Throne room and witness the beautiful words that came from his mouth and so the man of the 50 remained released his project the man knew the fifty were legendary to the newcomers already though they were hated they certainly were feared especially knowing each of the fifty and slaying thousands of newcomers the man figured he could take advantage of their legendary status like newcomer in, trick them into thinking they were part of the fifty and then fighting themselves the man assumed the name for the 50he called them veterans and in the propaganda said they were here first this land was theirs they would never stop fighting and killing but he promised them a catch if they could join his team a new faction under the leadership of the veterans they would be given the rare gifts that only the 50 owned they gets arrived to be rich fame would be passed around each could finally each could be special if only they turned against their glorious leader, the veteran released his propaganda and it instantly spread like wildfire the dying took up arms against their friends attempting to convince them to join the war against themselves or risk being murdered the smarter of the newcomers became spies and still trading the greater ranks in the faction then in the quiet of night that give the veteran leader the locations of the bases sanctuaries monuments the fifty would split and swiftly move from location to location destroying the progress the newcomers made and ending their pitiful lives at a far greater rate than ever before screams rose into every single night now as the fifty tor-apart lives higher ranks and the faction had their movement plans revealed and would be swiftly assassinated no one was safe anymore and the newcomers leader did finally notice the depth at his feet his numbers diminished at a remarkable speed far greater than the rate at which he could get new men into the land fear began to bite into him as the number of men calling for his death grew greater his minions fought each other relentlessly killing themselves off the sanctuaries and farms were burnt down every day the leader continued to release propaganda desperate to rally his troops but with fear and sickness and all the lower levels of the military he could no longer sweep the world with the strength that he once knew. The legendary 50 these "veterans" were unstoppable in a fit of rage the leader demanded a duel against the veteran who smote his men with hope he stormed out of his home guarded by his two strongest men swiftly traveling across the land to meet the veteran leader in a castle the fifty ones lived in but now had abandoned he threw the doors open ascending innumerable floors of the castle it's remarkable architecture gave an impressing him through his rage after hours of searching the massive structure he arrived at the door to go throne room and told his men to wait outside he brandished his sword took a deep breath and threw the door open at the other end of the hall sat the veteran leader on his dark read the room grinning wryly action crumbling pillars so did on your side until the right was an opening me to the sky revealing a startling drop to the grassy plains below "I'm surprised you actually showed up" his voice boomed from the other end of the throne room the faction leader had never heard the voice of every before but its power shook his bones will to echo though the empty rooms of the castle "I gotta say I'm impressed" the swallowed filled with fear these men were legendary the blood-stained sword the leader casually held on his lap cut-open though an innumerable amount of his men the sly grin on the veterans face was charismatic and intimidating there was no wonder he could trick the newcomers man into fighting each other the veterans casual demeanor was an insult to his leadership his military power no one should look the newcomer in the eye not your fear and yet this man did not not only was he void to fear but his casual companies made the newcomer shake where he stood for the first time in his life who felt true fear his men were at the other side of the door but he could not back down now "don't be surprised" who said string to hide his fear and keep his own intimidating voice intact "I never back down to the challenge" the veterans stood the grin never mean his face his dark eyes piercing the newcomers soul he walked forward his footsteps echoing through the once thriving castle so he looked the newcomers directly in the face he extended his hand offering the shake on a pact of fairness, in this land fairness did not exist but the veteran knew that if he wanted to truly beat an incoming he would need to convince his minions that he'd won fairly and without the Deceit their hands touched on the newcomer flinched at the icy coldness in hand. A hand that had strangled so many of his own men the hand that gripped the sword that doomed his military bitterness and hatred filled the new comrades and stared the veteran in the eye, his rye gaze never faded finally he wrenched his hand away and turned to take a few steps back fate watched over them that they looked each other in the eye one last time and a final moment of peace, after this moment one of them would die the other would keep the land. The hatred in the air at this time was palpable the biggest super powers in the world stared each other in the eye ready to be in a battle that would be told for centuries procedures without another moment's hesitation the newcomer go forward and swung his sword the veteran confidently parried the clank of metal screeching through the sky before taking a step to the side and swinging back the forces of swing knocking newcomers armor away with startling ease the leaders danced around each other, swinging their blades and dodging the others weaving in and out of attack range testing weaknesses and predicting movements in a desperate final attempt to end the battle. The newcomer had quickly regained his confidence swinging with equal strength to the veteran, showing off his own speed in comparison clangs of metal screens through the sky the unearthly screams calling as newcomers gathered around the base in the castle to listen while their leader fought the terror of the round slowly the leaders began to strike each other as their strength wore off the veteran nicked the newcomer in the shoulder denting his armor and bruising the skin underneath but not before getting sliced across the side and having blood leak down his own armor an evil smile touched the newcomer space as an angry yell shut the hall it's echo reaching the minions below who properly cheered other veterans of watch for a hill in distance and the yelling subsequent echo of cheering made them worried they climbed their horses and took off to the castle fearing the worst but knowing there was still hope as long as the clash of blades screamed over the lands the veteran angered by blood swung with incredible power batting the newcomers swords beside and attacking with incredible speed the newcomer weak from battle backed off suddenly filled with fear as the veterans seemed to draw from the reserve of power triggered by his furious anger and passion this land would not fall to the newcomers the leader. the veteran slashed straight through the newcomers reinforced armor falling to the floor with a heavy thud revealing the newcomers chest, in this moment the veteran could taste the fear in his eyes. he swung low causing the leader to step back bending over and raising his sword to swing back. The veteran anticipated is, ducking beneath the blade but not parrying at the leader thought he would and suddenly the newcomer realized his mistake as the momentum of his arm swamped his body sideways veteran lunged shoving the sword deep into the leaders side, he screamed pain filling his body as the jagged blade tore apart his insides cutting blood flow of his limbs and causing him to drop his own sword the echoes of his terror at death flew over the land stopping all the battles that were happening everywhere and a single incident the whole world knew the war was over the veterans slipped his sword out of the crumpled body in front of him walking to the open air in the side of the castle looking down at his friends charging across the land tearing and cutting down the newcomers listening from the ground the leader climbs to the bottom to help, celebrating as the ranks of the land began to fall apart and so the reign of terror had ended and the land slowly began to become free again. However not everything was good ant the misfortune of political dissension grew in the veterans as their leader who had grown soft toward the remaining newcomers who had worked for him refused to help kill them off. He wanted to welcome them into the veterans and reward them for being spies and revealing the coordinates of so many important strongholds in the new command Army, but the others wanted him dead the fifty grew to hate title of veterans resenting that their friend now called the few remaining newcomers under this name, some stayed friends but others went off on the room separating the fifty into a couple rival groups they were the conservative ones who continued to kill off every newcomer they can find and the veterans who did not try to kill the others but instead tried to stay away. despite this bitter end of friendship the land began to thrive again no longer bent over by hundreds of thousands of people the plants crew once more and rare devices began to no longer be rare once again soon enough everyone had everything they'd ever need equipped with the best armor and weapons from the lands legendary blacksmith that back packs filled with valuables and hidden storage is filled with things that once were impossible to find despite the divide in society the world was mostly concerned the corpses slowly rotted and disappeared bones poking out of the sands being the only thing that indicated they once existed. The name of the faction slowly faded no longer being used to remember the history but instead dominantly using the term newcomer, as is said the winners write the history and many details in the battles were lost to the pride of the original 50 however to say that victory was not dominant and overwhelming would be wrong. This all happened one year ago beginning on this day today the ship's first landed and the curse was unleashed on the land of the two builders I was one of the 50 who survived and I believe its tail needs to be remembered, we need to remember those we lost so that a tragedy like this never occurs again may the 50 who died rest in peace may the name of rusher be slandered into oblivion and may the surviving 50 live on in prosperity.