The Enemy's Lament

By: Thenidiel Posted on: September 22, 2007

They played drums for us as we marched to war,
A throbbing, pulsing beat of rising fear.
With each left, right, we shuddered all the more,
For none of us were wont to meet death here.
Our Lord, he urged us onwards, led with awe,
And so we went with sword and whip severe.
'cross Nishnatoba's plains we marched on paw,
To death, or triumph, either one severe.

The Nevaharr we gathered fought with pride,
At threat of being dinner if they ran,
Then came Scrula, and unicorns besides!
They flanked us westwards and soon we began
To fear tremendously for our own lives!
"Come fellows," one did cry, "do what you can!"
So snatched we all their weapons 'fore their eyes -
But ne'er was whip less match for such a man.

For hours, days and weeks we battled on,
With Kx'Khrah besides us, and Aldar's power,
A roar of triumph came from each anon,
Our breasts were beaten, every corpse devoured -
For ruined were the Scrula, each last one!
And though we lost great men, we were not dour.
So rested we our heads the ground thereon,
To summon back our strength each passing hour.

But sleep is not the solace some would pray,
For creeping through the fields of war with care
Were Quisalis of Thoth, a staunch array
Of fierce Sins, come to take us unawares.
For warriors strong and loyal of our ways
To be slain in so devious a way...
The Rajamala ne'er shall know once more
As base a death as in the Trium war.