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The wind grows restless in advance of storm.
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By night's fall, it shall serve as cloak
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if our number is not swollen beyond intent.
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How many?
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Only the most skilled among us.
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We must strike as the serpent, fast and sure.
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If Crassus falls to our venom,
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his legions will froth and foam absent proper command.
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A plan well served against Cossinius and Furius.
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You would send a sleeping man to the afterlife
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when he could awaken to a nightmare.
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A sea of death as our entire army crashes upon him.