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- Dec 23, 2016
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- 1,161
Today, an untested army marches North to face a heralded power in its arch-nemesis.
In the lead up to this war, the army’s Godfather has returned to claim his rightful throne at the head of the table. He has quietly gathered his most trusted advisors, has circled the wagons and has rallied his best generals to lead his men into combat.
Pinckney. Quarterman. Finley. Dallas. Men who are seasoned warriors, men who have tasted victory yet know defeat. Men who are battle tested and bear the scars to prove it. Men who soldiers will follow into battle arm in arm with a blood oath.
He has quietly amassed ammunition and firepower. Thomas. Osbourne. Harley. Hightower. Pope. He has uncovered an unlikely sniper amongst his ranks, one who can fire bullets and deliver shots that will pierce and decimate the enemy from the center. And he has bred lock down specialists to defend islands. Bandy. Carter. Hall. Blades.
The Godfather is a man known in the streets of his community. A man who built his army from within, determined to defend his community from recent attack from the outside. A man with fierce loyalty to his people and his home and who has built a foundation based on trust, loyalty, family which restored a storied intensity that almost once seemed lost forever to his army. The passion. The energy. The excitement. The electricity. The drive. The hunger. The anger. The mystique. The tanks are all full again.
The army marches north. Almost no one believes. But people have been watching. They know. They see. They believe. They have faith. And they march north with their army arm-in-arm to bear witness and meet the enemy face to face.
Because only those here who know the rich tradition and history of its people, its storied warriors of the past, and its legends of tomorrow know the grit and swagger making its way north. Because when the rest of the world believed the fire was extinguished, only those here knew a burning ember remained, a hidden kernel of fire ready to ignite, and that this sacred fire burns Hurricane Orange.
Seeming ghosts of the past have reappeared to bestow wisdom and remind the soldiers of their history. Those spirits can be simply
identified by number to the people. 47. 52. 20. 76.
That flame burns again Saturday night. The army is ready. It’s hard. It’s lean. It’s explosive. It’s nasty. It’s coming for you Florida. Get ready.
In the lead up to this war, the army’s Godfather has returned to claim his rightful throne at the head of the table. He has quietly gathered his most trusted advisors, has circled the wagons and has rallied his best generals to lead his men into combat.
Pinckney. Quarterman. Finley. Dallas. Men who are seasoned warriors, men who have tasted victory yet know defeat. Men who are battle tested and bear the scars to prove it. Men who soldiers will follow into battle arm in arm with a blood oath.
He has quietly amassed ammunition and firepower. Thomas. Osbourne. Harley. Hightower. Pope. He has uncovered an unlikely sniper amongst his ranks, one who can fire bullets and deliver shots that will pierce and decimate the enemy from the center. And he has bred lock down specialists to defend islands. Bandy. Carter. Hall. Blades.
The Godfather is a man known in the streets of his community. A man who built his army from within, determined to defend his community from recent attack from the outside. A man with fierce loyalty to his people and his home and who has built a foundation based on trust, loyalty, family which restored a storied intensity that almost once seemed lost forever to his army. The passion. The energy. The excitement. The electricity. The drive. The hunger. The anger. The mystique. The tanks are all full again.
The army marches north. Almost no one believes. But people have been watching. They know. They see. They believe. They have faith. And they march north with their army arm-in-arm to bear witness and meet the enemy face to face.
Because only those here who know the rich tradition and history of its people, its storied warriors of the past, and its legends of tomorrow know the grit and swagger making its way north. Because when the rest of the world believed the fire was extinguished, only those here knew a burning ember remained, a hidden kernel of fire ready to ignite, and that this sacred fire burns Hurricane Orange.
Seeming ghosts of the past have reappeared to bestow wisdom and remind the soldiers of their history. Those spirits can be simply
identified by number to the people. 47. 52. 20. 76.
That flame burns again Saturday night. The army is ready. It’s hard. It’s lean. It’s explosive. It’s nasty. It’s coming for you Florida. Get ready.
