Post by Gawayn on Jan 21, 2012 14:22:32 GMT -5
Well, since this is a clan of Wizards and Warriors, I thought I'd dust off an old poem concerning conflict.
Battle
Knowing the enemy, that is the first rule
Before the first sword is drawn
The buzzards, they wait, they look so cruel
I signal the pipers, we march with the dawn
Up with the camp, we march down the hill
To meet the enemy dread
The soldiers pause, the field so still
Before our lances turn it red
Ready the pike, up the arrow
There is no sound, this is no show
Up in the sky, a lonesome sparrow
Our fate draws near, it’s time to go
The men rush forward, the horses pound
We are an army, no tighter banding
We gallop forth, we shake the ground
Every man knows, no one left standing
I yell as I ride, our meeting thunder
There is no thinking, there is no thought
It seems we must be swept asunder
No matter the past, blood can’t be bought
When the blood stops flowing, the last drop spilled
Broken arms and blood-matted hair
The last man captured, the last man killed
The injured like raindrops, the dead everywhere
But we pick ourselves up, our hearts in our hands
Month after week, war after battle
We go forth to die, die for our lands
Marching every day, riding in the saddle
Yet one fine day our march is done
To face the greatest, blackest horde
We meet our slayers under sun
As I once more draw forth my sword
We do battle to avenge their crime
A reckoning is coming nigh
We defy the enemy one last time
Though born to live, our fate to die
With darkness all around me, I stand tall
The blackness charges, I see death’s portal
I give one last, unearthly call
They cannot stop me, I am immortal
I stand alone upon the slain
I try to move, I strive
Warp the sounds, distance the pain
I know I am truly alive
Knowing the enemy, that is the first rule
Before the first sword is drawn
The buzzards, they wait, they look so cruel
I signal the pipers, we march with the dawn
Up with the camp, we march down the hill
To meet the enemy dread
The soldiers pause, the field so still
Before our lances turn it red
Ready the pike, up the arrow
There is no sound, this is no show
Up in the sky, a lonesome sparrow
Our fate draws near, it’s time to go
The men rush forward, the horses pound
We are an army, no tighter banding
We gallop forth, we shake the ground
Every man knows, no one left standing
I yell as I ride, our meeting thunder
There is no thinking, there is no thought
It seems we must be swept asunder
No matter the past, blood can’t be bought
When the blood stops flowing, the last drop spilled
Broken arms and blood-matted hair
The last man captured, the last man killed
The injured like raindrops, the dead everywhere
But we pick ourselves up, our hearts in our hands
Month after week, war after battle
We go forth to die, die for our lands
Marching every day, riding in the saddle
Yet one fine day our march is done
To face the greatest, blackest horde
We meet our slayers under sun
As I once more draw forth my sword
We do battle to avenge their crime
A reckoning is coming nigh
We defy the enemy one last time
Though born to live, our fate to die
With darkness all around me, I stand tall
The blackness charges, I see death’s portal
I give one last, unearthly call
They cannot stop me, I am immortal
I stand alone upon the slain
I try to move, I strive
Warp the sounds, distance the pain
I know I am truly alive