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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I In the eighth year, the dark men clad in dead-white came, Killing for pleasure and greed by day, drinking and laughing by night all the same, By the razing fire's light below him, such horrific things young Alan saw, In the face of the marauding, cultist army, that carnivorous, all-consuming maw, The Talisman knights, who bore before them banners in black and red, and a dead man upon a pike at the army’s head, And they screamed out prayers to their gods as they killed upon that field, sharp and ugly mantras, Twisted like the brutal weapons they did wield, In that bloody moonlight, all the people hid and ran… Except for Alan the true, of the northern realms, Who carried within his armor hope for all his fellow man. II "To return." said Alan, as he gazed from his heath, As good people fell, and were butchered beneath, Where the talisman worshippers carried before them hate and fire; Killed and raped and burned together, each to his black heart's desire, To know? Alan watched and shed a tear, As from such men which fled in fear, To wander with that common lust, Of brave men forged, in broken trust. Thrust upon that tainted hill, that ruined place, That scar upon a fecund face, Never known to those whose banner flied; In such a place they cast their pride. III The talisman knights, clothed in white hauberks and red stars, Charged and scarred the land they sought, And upon the tired backs of slaves they bought, A vast and fertile kingdom, untrue and most unbold; For such a coin their souls were sold. As soiled a land as was ever seen, Though calm in peace, and lush in green, Yet in darkness, still the zealot army knew; That in the North was cause to rue.
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