heroes arent unscarred pretty boys in skin tight pants, no, they are the ones that wander thru the desert to hunt down the one who killed their family, hereoes are the ones who killed the demon lords as they sat arrogant on their thrones, heroes dance the wind, and as the puppets of fate they walk on, as the puppets they know they are, and do not care, for they are heroes, to a hero, the end result matters, and that is the way that it will be, heroes do not waver, and heroes are their own, torn apart from the inside, they walk the paths, and the paths they do know, they have seen death and walked the 7th gate, but back they came because that is the way, their is no other, walking death and pain, to show the world, that which we have lost, for heroes do not walk around in bulletproof vests, or have super powers, heroes are avengers, neither good, nor evil, walking their own path, choosing the way, to the end, and they will die, but not befor they are done.