Our swords held high we arrived on the vast plains of barren
land, soon to be fertile with our challenger’s blood…
Every gain of sand stood in anticipation, for its share of
bounty, the army arrived in thousands, we were just a bunch of three hundred…
For twenty days our battle raged on…with each fallen brother
we fought with more vigour, swinging our blades, slashing their hearts
The dead piled in columns of havoc, thunderous swords of our
s now in hundreds we survived….
Their army driven
away, we had saved our land…
We were heroes in our land…but murderers in the land of our
enemies…
A hundred years later too, our war shall be spoken of…
Thirty thousand against the hundreds bloodhounds…
But I still stood there on the vast plains of rotting
plunder,
When the sun went down that night a few lanterns still burnt
in my tent…
The fragrance of blood on my hands could never perish …
I had killed…..
I may have killed thousands, destroyed their hopes of
returning home
Crippled a few hundred bravehearts, carrying with them the
fearless notion of our brothers
In a few days a fresh legion shall arrive,
May be then I would join my brothers in heaven or send the
opponents to their destiny in heaven…
For they were warriors too, some feared, some barbaric ,
some relentless….
To all that have died under my swing, to the lord I ask one
thing and one thing alone,
May all their souls rest in peace….
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