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Lord Baldrith here with an awesome and quite brutal poem by Blaquerogue.  I hope I did it justice!

Here is the text:

Oath of the Warsworn Gripping his sword tight the blood rushed to his hands,

He was the sworn protector of these war torn lands,

Even though death was likely to prevail,

This one mission he could not fail,

Innocent lives were at stake this dark and dreary day,

A storm brewed on the horizon clouds dark and grey,

Climbing upon his mount he rode off towards the storm,

His shadowy figure a silhouette strong and stout was his form,

The people shouted praise as he passed through the street,

The evil that plagued them soon death it would meet,

No shiny armour no medals not even high born,

Off into battle he stayed true to the oath of “War Sworn”,

Although he was a Hospitlar healer of pain,

He was Warrior first and foremost the strongest link in the chain,

As metal clashed with metal and blood stained the ground,

This one single warrior would not be downed,

Beaten to the mud fighting from his knees,

He held firm his footing solid as Oak trees,

As the bodies lay around he felt a sudden and sharp pain,

He knew that his enemies this day, were not the only ones to be slain,

He fell over into the mud and took his last breath,

Felt the cold chill creeping up on him followed by death,

He fought well this last battle and Bards shall sing his name,

Although he was a modest Knight unknown he shall remain.

“blaquerogue” 05/08/2014

Posted by Lord Baldrith - Email Author
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