Clad in steel and stars, they march forth. Born of fire and raised in war. These children, small and fragile, they lack the grace of God. Exist in spite of the almighty creator's will. They have not strength, through which they can power through every conflict. They are not many, a wave of bodies that can overwhelm any foe. They are not powerful, and can not bend reality to their whim. They haven't a collective concsiousness, and true coordination is lost to them. They haven't the technology to destroy stars, they haven't the innovation to adapt to every situation. But they march on anyways. When the whole of creation despises them, when God himself demands their deaths, they rise up unfettered. For their will is unbroken, their soul ever-burning. And with fire and fury they rise up against the universe itself. They are unbreakable. They are unstoppable. They are unkillable. They are The Children of the Sun, and woe to those who seek their demise.