On the eve of an early morning sunrise, a mist of premature spring rain fell upon a simple farming village. The northern winds of Eolmer still howled there eternal breath of winter upon the thatched rooftops. An eerie silent tranquility held upon the hearts of those who took a moment to listen, almost as if the world was waiting for the fall of mankind. A gentle frost covered the rough ground, patches of green could be spotted throughout the barren landscape. In every sense of the word, this would be considered a normal bitter late winter day. But between the intervals of eternal silence and a single breath, you can hear the screaming agony of mortal men dieing upon a forsaken battlefield.
The field of battle was covered with the disfigured bodies of men who gave there lives for whatever useless fairy-tale they were told to believed in. There innocence was thrown away by ignorant rulers who cared nothing except for there own gain. The men and children who pledge there lives for there rulers were cast away into the dust and eaten by the carnivorous scavengers of the sky. Some who could still stand and fight would scream out a prayer.
“Oh Feltham of the light, where are thy love, I cry out to you with thine heart, but you have not come to raise me from this wretched upheaval.”
Others would just hold in there final breath screaming out or speak in soft murmurs for the simple pleasures that would give them a glimpse of hope, such as water or to wash the blood off there eye's. Some say men who show no fear in death and show honor will be swept away into the heavens to dine with there for fathers and worship there gods. They say these men will bring respect, dignity, with life everlasting for there families namesake. Others who worship false idols and bow down to whatever methodologically conjured mythology will get to live a life of vexation and death. Those who yearn for all of these false realities of gods and idols will truly suffer a wretchedly distasteful end. The clashing of swords and whistle of arrows colliding together into a mass confusion and blood lust could bring out the darkest of demons from any man's soul. Those who seek out glory and kinship would not make it this day only the monsters would survive this day.
In the background of the vast genocide of soldiers, the small farming village was in turmoil. Homes covered in flames, the wretched schrills of children who lay on the bodies of there loved ones could be heard throughout the streets. The elders of the village shackled and taken off to who knows where. Women tried to hide there children in whatever nook and cranny they could find. Some would run off into the woods and pray to there gods for protection. Most would either be captured or die from some foul beast or soldier. The men and boys who used to live and protect the village were sent off to die a vile death on the forsaken blood stained fields. Those few who survive this day will forever remember it and mourn.
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The days of idle kings sitting on top of golden chamber pots and spouting out useless revelries are over. The people have risen from the ashes and will slaughter any royal sympathiser who follows the commands of the 7 royal kingdoms that instigated the most deadly war the seven kingdoms have ever seen. Those who fell upon the swords of the King's men will be forever engraved on the hearts of those who seek vengeance and retribution. The land was painted in a deep scarlet red almost as if the gods took a stroke of the brush upon a painting. Revolution has come.
The child's pain
My child My child
Why have you fallen
My child My child
Your tears will be forgotten
The battle was raged
The sword has fallen
My child
There body's are lain within the coffins
You killed my friends you killed my family my child
Your sins can never be forgiven
My child My child have you forgotten
The pain The pain
That you brought upon the women and children
My child My child
Why have you fallen
My child My child
Your tears have been forgotten
The battle was lost
The sword has fallen
My child
The days have darken
The nation of children
Will be your ruin
Countries with kings who care for nothing
The world is shaken
The lives of men have been forsaken
All sins will never be forgiven
My child My child