History is written by the Victors...well this one aint.

I wrote this story just now, though its been in my head for some time. What i'm attempting to do is simply gather all my random ideas and thoughts and try to bridge them together to make it into a decent story. It aint finished but what i'm hoping to accomplish by posting unfinished work here is to recieve some healthy criticism. Show me some obvious faults i have overlooked. This story has no title(like it was easy to just think one up) and actually no identifiable names. I find names for character are hard to come by, and its a WIP. Please know that my character is suffering, he is not some muscle tone "must kill bad guy!". Most of what he says here is not out of pure rage and he's screamming, but rather thinking to himself in silence.
Thanks for checking my "written on a napkin" intro and hope you enjoy......all makes sense when you read below.


They are heading north now; the roads they tread are constantly changing, their pace always hastening, but what they leave behind remains the same. Whether by the sword or by the enticing glare of gold's vain lure, the clans of these vast lands were falling. One after the other, this so called Samaritan army has been sweeping across villages, towns, whole tribes. Each was a heroic victory for the new conquers; every battle's glory was only out shinned by the one that followed. In the end history will always be written by the victors, the dead can not write their thoughts, their last words. So then where does that leave my home, my family, did they not have voices? Or is it with death there is a loss, a disappearance of a whole life's memories. Their very existence to be put into question. Is a man's only proof of existence the days he is given between birth and death? They had no right to rob my family of their history, of their existence. If three men agree and one deviates, is it right to remove the fourth man? Are the three so without conscience that they can ruin the fourth man and while keeping their chins toward the heavens say “Our only wish, our sole desire is to ensure the safety and future of all men.�? Where is my justice?
Cold nights turned to long days. Soon months passed as swift and as unnoticed as the wind. This winter would only bring the bitter, frigid, touch of ice that had already long consumed any warmth I had in me that day I rode away from the ash that was once my home. For a little over two years I have chased my ghost army, chasing my rage, my misery in hopes that when I finally catch up I may kill it and unchain myself from this debt. A debt I can only repay to my people, with blood.


If your lost then just read here:
http://www.worldofwarcraft.com/info/...8A14A.app03#16
Read Arathor and the Troll Wars the first to paragraphs and you should know where this guy is coming from.

Im interested!!!!
Want to know how he's gonna defeat that army.