Tides of Terror
Now, a lean and gray-haired corpse, armed with a plain arming sword and heavy shield, enamled to have a black crown across its white face. Horribly chewed through and clawed at by rats, this guy has more holes than a chain-link fence.
Four and fifty winters have passed since Eustace Crown was born to his parents. Fiftey summers have come since his father went off to war, leaving him with his loving mother. Forty and three springs have gone bye since his uncle came to bring him his father’s armor and shield.
After many, many years, Eustace sat in contemplation, staring at the old rusting armor of his father. Much time passed him by, and when he awoke from his trance he steeled himself to take the mantle of his sire, and go off to fight the only war he could find. The war on Crime.