Thousands upon thousands strong
covered in full battle armament
the riders most definately frightening
the stench of evil and death abounds
for these riders are of another world
not the living, but yet the the dead
for they dwell in the realm of the in-between.
The mounts upon which they ride
creatures too most evil and foul
throw fear into all they encounter
eerie red glows where eyes should be
a foul steam emits from nostril and mouth
in addition, thunder follows in their advance
with lightening around them ever present.
With every passing battle they lay claim
to more riders with which to further build their army
pour souls whose only wish is to pass
into the light, a most peaceful death indeed
with every ounce of courage they can muster
they strive to avoid these riders and their evil
with voices rasied unto the heavens, they pray
for good to prevail over this un-wordly evil.