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Monk
02-06-2004, 01:00
It was dark, as the sun slowly escaped sight into the vast west and the night sky took dominion where once a vast blue had settled before. Above clouds drifted in from the east and a cold wind kicked up as dust which had once sat motionless was let fly into the air. Upon the green soil, there was none alive, for a great battle had just ended. A battle that shook the bounds of the world when fought, and of which none survived. The bodies of those who had died the day before still laid proudly as the moon peeked her lonely face from among the vast dark, and she wept upon the slain. Her tears shone like the sun and her pale light reveled the faces of the fallen, young boys and old men, farmers and smiths, all dead having done their duty for their high lord. Even the trees took note of their deeds as they swayed in the gusts of wind, saying their prayers for the souls of the dead.

The animals of the land made their way to the field, and they looked on with sorrow and sadness. The deer and rabbits looked on to see thousands no longer moving, and the hawks and eagles raised their wings giving the dead a final salute. the waters of the rivers and streams roared aloud crying in anger of the slaughter, and for the deaths of the fishermen who would never grace their shores again. All was silent as the World looked on, for none could have guessed that these men would give their lives for the greater good of their fellow warriors, and once more the light of the Moon hid herself behind clouds so she would weep no longer.

The names of such men shall forever be forgotten, and know shall ever care to hear their tale, but to them, they were the finest warriors in the world. The friendships shared and the honor forged lasted until the end of their days, and that was this day. But to them, to die fighting side by side on the battlefield was the greatest honor. In life, they made their worth, living their lives in servitude to their lords. However on the battlefield, they fought to the last. Through the horrors of war they gained honor and the right to call themselves soldiers. For you see, these are the men of the world, who lived all over, those who came together and defied tyranny in the face of evil. These are the sons of Rome, Men of Italy, Warriors of Sicily, and Sons of Byzantium. They fought and died on the soil of Naples, and their blood soaked honor shall forever remain a testimony to lesser men.

Never forget their deaths, for it reminds us all that the slaughter is endless, be it for holy or other means. They fought the Mongols, and they died trying to save their land. The Mongolian Empire stretches from Khazar to Paris... None can stop them...

I return to work on my other stories, but i Had to post this

Eastside Character
02-13-2004, 18:37
Vae victis...


...or should it be... gloria victis?...

Regards,
EC