Don Epezil was a forgetful sort – one of those old soldiers full of the sort of forgotten glory which exists on the edge of his mind leading him on with delusions of grandeur for something small made elevated during moments of testosterone and life and death (perhaps, since such instances do trigger such mix of aggrandizing emotions, perhaps they are worthy of the aggrandizing that they inspire). He prowled the dry plains with his brothers of other similar self fantasies. And they in their grey and decrepit former glory had nothing better to do than fall under Don Epezil’s spell and seek out a taste of something that made them forget the mortality they had to live with each day and recapture the forgetful Elysium that is youth and its disregard for the consequences of one’s actions. These men simply wanted to b heroes again and through Don Epezil, they felt they could. They included Rivast, who grabbed a young girl before she could step into a mine field, but couldn’t save her family. He ended up adopting her with his wife and she lived to become president of his country and sometimes secret lover. He could not say no to her nor forgive himself for not doing more that fateful day to keep her loved ones alive. Of course she turned his country into the place hers was never allowed to become. Galanta, formerly Larry, a sad sort who flew fighter planes and suffered mild brain damaged from being a test pilot. He was the sort of hero that never really saves anyone, merely inspires through sheer bravery. Unfortunately that brain damaged led to him believing aliens imparted him with gifts. He grew his hair long, changed his name to Galanta and lived in seclusion in his home distrustful of the world but believing in Don Epezil and his tales. Finally we have Sir Tacrine of May Royal, a small small kingdom in the mountains of somewhere far far away who settled these dusty plains a year ago and roamed his estate dressed in a musty uniform adorned with metals which he assured the gang was received from trying exercises. His secret, though is that those metal were won with the blood of innocents from a forgotten genocide. When his mind snapped, so too did his will to live with his guilt and off he disappeared into the land of Don Epezil’s forbearers, on the dusty plains. Don Epezil himself revealed none to his compatriots admitting forgetfulness of something that must have been great to make him feel this heroic. Galanta mused perhaps it was because Don Epezil had no glory, merely insane charisma to lead a bunch of geezers on a quest into a well deserved death and in the process create the glory he never had. Galanta, for a man who believed in something like nonexistent aliens, had insight into others outside of himself. But as long as Don Epezil’s full tooth mouth gleamed white and gabbed with assured enthusiasm, Galanta kept his mouth shut and let the others believe in what this old man had to offer. Don Epezil had a lot to offer and nothing at all, and that was enough. Over 300 years between the four of them, a little adventuring at the end of their lives based on the premise of lies and delusions would harm no one.