Imagine this, if you will, a literal raining of Nova Bombs and Fist of Havocs shattering the lines. The war horns of the first battle, followed by the endless hail of burning firebolts and hammers. All the while lightning grenades and Stormcallers creating a hurricane. Even if you muster your troops and attack, you will be little more than the waves crashing against a hardrock shore, not even a little progress. And let's say by some improbability you overcome all this, half our forces rise from the grave, one hit melees and firebolts 5 times what they were.
This is the hell that awaits you, Hunter. And as a personal act to crush your hope, I will burn your cape in front of your broken form.
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