In the face of the Brilliant Day,
the Num yielded.
For he beheld the splendor of the Golden Queen.

Against such a thing,
strength of arms was meaningless.
Had not the Num struck?
Once.
Twice.
Thrice.

With each blow,
thunder cracked
'cross the plains of desolation.

The claws forged of the dreadful Nyarr
sundered and splintered
'gainst the immaculate skin
of the Eternal and Unyielding Goddess.

Ten thousand and one fists
rained upon the Num.
As one,
they struck.

Each transcendent blow burned,
with the perfection of the endless day
in a dance that transposed
each blow upon its peer.

And yet, the Num knew...
for all of Her wrath,
the Goddess held a measure of mercy.

The Spear and Sword of gold
were yet held out
upon outstretched arms
pointing to the cerulean heavens
filled with stars that danced
in the absence of the Sun.

And yet, the Num knew...
this was the arrogance of the Goddess.
For did she not think weapons were unneeded?
That her fists would serve
to strike the Num low.

And so, the Num knew...
that while low,
there was yet a chance of victory.

And so, he gave voice to his defiance once more.
And of hope.

"Num."

.

.

This is but a sample of what is going to be showing up first in my Pat reon ( /Biigoh ) before eventually making its way into the wild of the internets.