The distant thundering of hooves shook the ground. In the distance, a cloud of gray silica billowed over the horizon. The rain malevolently pounded against the ground, creating miniscule mud craters wherever a drop landed. The moon shone through the blanket of dark storm clouds covering the sky. Bolts of white light occasionally illuminated the entire sky for only one moment, so bright you couldn't differentiate between night and day. Sparks briefly illuminated the hooves of the horses, when the iron horseshoes struck the ground. Oddly enough, the hooves sounded like plastic hitting against wood. And left to defend against the oncoming onslaught was one man. He stood in the rain, with nothing to his name but a mantle and two sabers tied together with rope. As the invaders approached, the steady roar of their bellicose cheers slowly drowned out the sound of the rain. The man glanced at each of his swords in turn, examining their metal blades, and the handles made of bone. As the shouting of the approaching horde grew to the volume of an industrial meat grinder, he charged. With one deft movement of his hand, he whipped a saber into the oncoming crowd. The saber's blade cut down from above, miraculously, and unfortunately, not harming anyone. But in the next instant, an explosion occurred from where the sword struck the ground. He was wielding sabers tied together with a rope, and they were explosive. The force of the knockback knocked many of the crowd into the air, and left the rest in disarray. The man then swung at a nearby tree, and it fell to the ground easily, almost as if it was made of plastic. The timber pinned a group of soldiers to the ground. But as the enemy surged in from all sides, it was clear he could not win. Faced with no option but to stand and fight, he began sweating bullets. Drops of his sweat slowly ran down his arm, and then he flicked his hand at the enemy with a simple wave of his hand. Beads of sweat were flung from his hands at extreme speeds, slowly turning into metal. The metal bullets hit the soldiers in their chests, knocking them flat on the ground, and holding off the horde. Unfortunately, for every enemy defeated, 5 more took their place. But once again, as he was running out of options, over the hill behind him, a little boy in a red shirt came galloping over the hill, riding a horse. The boy pulled out a small 1 inch cube made of some unknown metal, and threw it into the crowd of invaders. Through the loud din of all the shouting, a faint "OW!" could be heard in the distance. As the fighting continued, the metal cube, which had previously bounced off of a poor guy's prefrontal cortex, now sat there on the ground, vibrating and glowing vigorously. Men who were previously fighting now stood there, watching with concerned looks on their faces as the cube became brighter, and vibrated with a higher frequency. And that's when everything went black. The loud roar of the battle faded. And through the darkness came the glow of a desk lamp, illuminating a scene of a little boy playing with his figurines. 
 "Take that! Exploding sword go!"  
On his table, the boy had a figurine draped in a little piece of fabric, and holding two paper swords tied together with a piece of string. A wind up toy of a little boy in a red shirt sat precariously on a horse that was the size of the boy's head, clearly an unproportionate rider to horse ratio. A handful of U.S. army action figures were put on the other end of the table, and in the midst of them was a little fridge magnet. The boy continued playing with his figurines by the desk lamp, until from downstairs, a faint voice was heard. 
"Jimmy, time for dinner!" 
Jimmy ran down to eat his delicious meal, and the figurines sat on the table, motionless, unmoving, unfeeling. But as soon as Jimmy returns, the battle continues, and his imagination becomes the orchestrator of the show.