Riddle: I heard of an invading, vanquishing army sweeping across the land, liquid-quick; conquering everything, quelling resistance. With it came darkness, dimming the light. Humans hid in their houses, while outside spears pierced, shattering stone walls. Uncountable soldiers smashed into the ground, but each elicited life as he died; when the army had vanished, advancing northward, the land was green and growing, refreshed. What is it?
Riddle: My first is a very uncomfortable state,
In cold weather it mostly abounds.
My second's an instrument formed of hard steel,
That will cause the stout foe to stagger and reel,
And when used, is a symptom of hate.
My whole is an author of greatest renown,
Whose fame to the last day of time will go down.
Who am I?
Riddle: He's a boastful, puffed-up fellow, wearing spurs; eyes gleaming yellow. As he proudly struts about, he's in charge, there is no doubt.
What is he?