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*Religious view of the recent battle of Sindh, and the recent uproar in EDEN due to it.*



They came, with their pig disgusting ways;laying waste to life as they're hooves marked the sand. With the false brethren in tow, they seemed unstoppable. Yet, they did not know of the sand. The most pure and powerful sand, located in the mystical land of Pakistan.

They landed in Sindh, a sub-people who's lives were not loud but peaceful. The soul of Pakistan was enraged - pigs in the land? So the warrior's came, both Pakistani and of the holy land of Serbs. They were a few, scattered here and there. In the west such a match would be laughable. But they were experienced, and death was another freedom for them.

They fought a thousand times, for forty night and forty days, concentrated into the space of day. The natives and their brethren fought hard and losses were hard too. The pigs were advancing, but slowly. They could not understand? A primitive 300 against their thousands?

And then Dio smiled, through the sand and the Pakistani. The dead fought, with renewed energy. They fought for seconds like vast swarms of honey bees. Then they were gone.

The pigs celebrated in their pig disgusting ways, not knowing of the powers that were at work. Through minutes of pigtly where pig drink collided and battles within ignited the pain came. Unbearable for them, blue liquid gushing out of their horns, oinks of pain. The purity of the sand and it's people was destroying for such evil.

The Pakistani reappeared, not fully understanding what had happened at first but they knew of the mystical powers of the sand and of Dio. No candles were lightened for there was only brethren and sand. No graves were dug, there was no dead. The Sindhi's farmed as usual and prayed to Dio.

The pigs not knowing what had happened and believing any oink of events however far fetched blamed each other, their different tribes did not oink together no more. The Pakistanis victory was as powerful as the sand itself.