At the back entrance of this Hold you find a quiet garden, with thick and dry twisted trees and few leaves flying to the endless horizon. At the ground, you barelly notice writtings on stone plates, almost hidden by thick grass. Some have pendants, hair strands, preached notes and old shattered weapons. They all discribe the same thing: Those who are gone, fighting for a reason we cannot fail to preserve. In their memory and honor, we shall yell their names on the brink of victory...or death. No body remain here. Memories will last forever.