The Finswagian people hear the guns stop, they know the forces of Al-Cowda must regroup for another offensive. Aware that they only have mere hours before they have to return to their shelters, they begin to count and bury the dead with what little time they have. Their leader is telling them that he is doing all he can to at least buy their swagilicious nation some more time, even if it is only a day. He begs the Finswagians to just hold on, just a bit longer. One poor wretched soul who had lost his entire family begins to sing, for although he has lost all that he holds dear, he still has hope that his nation may prosper once again.
With the war claiming over a tenth of Finswagias population, the maimed, the young and the old pick up the rifle and march to the front lines. They know they are unlikely to ever come back they say their farewells and march on an empty stomach, due to the blockade. Resources are scarce, but the people of Finswagia still sit around the oil drum fires, listening to the tales of the old days for they believe that those days will come again but until then they will hold on, for it is all they can do.