Since my birth I have wandered.
The rise of the Emerald Kingdom forged a clan, my clan.
A clan of nomads.
For nigh a thousand years, we walked the plains, the mountains, the rivers.
Now, none wander but I.
The lineage of old has ended; my kinsmen have faded as dust into the wind.
Since my birth I have wandered.
My sword is my only companion.
Forged by my father, it has been with me all of my days.
Its blade never dulls.
The instrument has spilled the blood of a hundred men.
Their cries echo upon the wind.
It rests calmly at my side, waiting for my call.
My sword is my only companion.
Today I passed a city upon a hill.
Its walls stood firm; shelter from man's raging storm.
Watchmen greeted me at the gate.
The town was pulsing with life; endless men moved before my eyes.
I see few such sights in my travels.
With gold, I found a new shield; strong iron.
Today I passed a city upon a hill.
The moon is red tonight.
Tomorrow, the essence of men shall spill to the Earth.
I sense I shall take part.
Long has it been since I met an army on the field of battle.
The clouds move to the East.
That is where I shall go to meet my fate.
The moon is red tonight.
I came upon a village.
Men in glowing armor stood at the last house.
Their faces revealed impending doom.
Many a house was empty, their inhabitants fled.
Only the elders remained.
On this day, the end of these people approaches.
I came upon a village.
The captain bid me aid.
Sword ready, I awaited the sight of the enemy.
My blade shone in the sun.
At midday, a great column crested the far hill.
The spirits of my comrades sank.
The end of this clash rests in my hands, that I know.
The captain bid me aid.
The arrows covered the sky.
Their great cloud descended upon the men of Gordonopia.
My shield protected me well.
Like porcupine spines, the shield bristled with death.
Other men had lesser luck.
Blood and flesh covered the cold green ground.
The arrows covered the sky.
My sword soon had its fill.
With a yell, Kjeldor bore down on the ragged living.
Waves of men charged the line.
Thrusting, my weapon claimed a new life.
Warmth left his eyes.
Withdrawing the blade I prepared for a new clash.
My sword soon had its fill.
The battle raged on.
Countless men soon fell to the hardened sword.
Their bodies piled high.
My thoughts went blank as the iron shattered bone.
In a trance, I fought on.
Fear soon entered the mind of my surviving foe.
The battle raged on.
They fled across the plains.
Before the sun left the sky, my enemy fled in retreat.
Victorious, Gordonopia cheered.
On the overlooking hill, a lone archer stood tall.
Arrow drawn powerfully.
The bolt pierced my heart; dug deep into my chest.
They fled across the plains.
The darkness is taking me.
My father stands peacefully in front of me.
His hand reaches out.
Soon I shall join the the ancient members of my clan.
I fall to my knees.
My companion falls to the earth with a soft thud.
The darkness is taking me.
OOC Note: This is designed to be very different from my usual writing style. It is meant to be an ancient Gordonopian heroic poem, somewhat of my nation's equivalent of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight in terms of its place in literary cannon, though obviously very different in content and style. Any comments in the form of TGs would be appreciated.