Conquest of the Horde

The sun was up. The birds on the sunstrider isle were singing playful tunes. Deathrall was sitting on one of the hills and staring at the ocean. Thinking. Watching.
"What is this all about?" -
And again thinking and watching. And waiting for something to happen.
"But what?" -
The cool breeze was striking his hair and the face. The sea was striking the rocks, in some way calling Deathrall to act. He was smiling and still staring at the skyline.
"All the Pain." - He looked up into the sun and then back to the sea.
"All the wars." - His hand slided to a pair of daggers besides him. Deathrall turned his head and looked down to them. They were reflecting the sun. He stroked the biting blades and smiled.
"All the efforts" - He raised his arms, so he could see the wounds he kept from his training this day. They were already bandaged, but he still felt the pain. Nevertheless he was still smiling and gazing at the sea.
Suddenly he packed his daggers, stood up and packed them back on his hip and looked one last time at the skyline.
"Doesn't matter!" - and went away.