The Old Battle

The windswept field was about to turn red
Rounded hills holds a mass of warriors
pounding their shields filling the enemy with fear and dread
Its not the first and not the last battle that they will fight
Peircing and penatrating for what they believe to be right
At first glance of eye contact the moment of madness
The first blow and the first death no time for sadness
Twenty thousand strong twenty thousand wild
The six thousand at battle end piled
A war of power and land a war of the Gods
A war of a higher beliefe
A war with only one cunclusion
A place in the heavens to dine with your god
They were the chosen ones.

The Old Battle

keet

Joined January 2008

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an old battle

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