How daring can savages be:

Not just to steal first a King’s glee,

But to then ingloriously

Leave none but one spoil to the sea

After toil and months of blood shed

Along the waves, whereon the head

Of the fleet’s pride stood in great fury

With pitiful rage of jury:

Him of the line of Cyndaeus.

King Cone of Deutras did lay thus

Slighted and slain on the beaches

A fight vainly against leeches

‘Twas in moments justice denied

King Cone of righteous death aside,

For when the princes landed there

Their foes unleashed their one despair.

First to stand on the beaches was

First in rank and speeches, with cause

Guided by only Her Above

A father’s rage for daughters’ love

Followed by a hundred grave ships

Cursed tragic by the sands’ dry lips,

Half the number by Deutras’ own

Mighty friends gave the others loan,

Sons, fathers, and heroes of boast

Gave their service in that great host,

All far behind Deutras’ fine king

Whose morose path muses would sing.

Spear and rock and rubble thus thrown

Broke shield and plate and skinless bone:

The first a treasure of proud line

Cyndaeus’ own, even still did shine

After generations to King Cone’s

Whose limp arm dropped it as pain groans.

Falaenus and Damaretes,

His brave sons, princes in peer breeze,

Fell too—one by heart, but other

Through fair dart, crying for mother.

These graceless slayings’ doer shot

For ‘twas he the traitor’s line ‘got,

And from the city Gare they came,

Prince Straen, Kollys the father’s name;

Men of Her Above sworn to be,

Yet they now stood with enemy.

Thus the three royals laid there dead,

Onset waves burying each head

Cursed by none but their fellow man

Not the savage, by who began

The rage for which thousands in shout

Made down from ships and on beach route

To recover King Cone’s body

They fought against hard fought folly

But the descendent from Deutras

Held no proud treasure: stolen fast

By Prince Straen, who retreated quick

To hide and imagined wounds lick.

Then the traitor fiend King of Gare

Gave thunderous applause near and far

Before raising his arm to say:

“Behold this, ye Deutras, and dismay!

Glorana Above stands here not

To aid you, but to now cast lots,

For you stand on mine beaches dear

The mountains you seek to besmear.

But for my land I live and breathe,

For were it in your hand I’d unsheathe

Blades holy and grant Her Above

Glory, and a servant to love!

King Cone is fallen, two sons same,

Leave now and carry no rough blame.

Otherwise, mercy is retired

As it was for he you admired.”

King Kollys did thus warn of them,

But no brave man of the host’s tens

Took up the offer, advancing

The fight in fervor, enhancing

The straight Deutran courage remained

For even when beaches blood stained,

Mights trumps advantage when gods fail

Thus they rushed on Kollys to assail;

Haut Stator of Hanuntum came first

A warrior of great, though cursed

His sisters begged him from voyage

But ‘twas duty he saw broyage:

King Cone’s War was a noble cause

But now he lies by human paws

King Kollys slew him where he stood

Blows from a man all but him good.

Cone’s youngest son, Trichallion

A prince of strong mind and well bond,

Marked this death of a brave comrade

And charged on as the stout nomad

Filled with all thoughts of slights done foul

Cone’s son marched without smile nor scowl

For his face was covered by mask

Of Cyndaeus, King of the Task

His ancestor of blood divined;

As he fought his brute armor shined.

The savages dashed to stop him

Leaping o’er fallen Deutrans slim

Nine in number fell upon he

Who slew each with only wounds three

Trichallion marched with valor

As time would be the traitor’s hour

King Kollys saw and turned and fled,

Willed a servant to serve instead.

Of no grand line, this man of Gare

Dropped and begged the son, though bizarre

For he lifted palms to reveal

Broken fingers, too less ideal

“I yield, Prince of Deutras, in shame

For how could I fight men of fame

When I be just a weak cowherd

That weeps and flies: a meek coward.

I seek thine mercy, Cone’s strong son

As King Kollys forced me undone

Bringing all men of form to die

On the beaches against foes wry

To our state, heroes and just men

That sees our suffering ne’er end.

Here I beg thee, Prince of Deutras

Let this cowherd live, to breathe thus

And I’ll swear in favor to ne’er

Follow traitors, but stop and stare

As Glorana Above did then

Against three kings of once fair men.”

Etarcus was his name, lowly

The farmer dropped and bowed slowly

His plea was true, the prince here knew

His father was nothing, deeds few;

Fingers broken, coward cowherds

Pose the same threat as empty words,

Thus Trichallion spoke and spake:

“Parrdon Below won’t have his Rake,

For I’ll grant you one small mercy

But too punish controversy

As you still followed the traitor

But ceased when finding warm danger

Here I’ll swiftly strike your hand off

That once carried the spear in scoff

And tell you to flee back away

Where arrows and darts won’t long stay

For long as you call here your home

Bloody killers with hounds will roam.

Fly now and from Kollys be far

For he’ll now break the graceless star.”

Trichallion spoke and did so,

And Etarcus howled and bent low

For what pain holds, though not as fierce

As Parrdon’s Death, whose flamed rake pierce

Each it holds, though not Etarcus

Who departed and ran steps plus

The heed he gave to all he passed

Most hearkened, retreated en masse

And thus with Trichallion’s spare

Most from Gare tried not to here dare

To fight with the men of Deutras

Or any friend that came there thus,

And in their rigorous, stressed haste,

They left the King’s body to waste

Though no wise Deutran saw it there

They thought Prince Straen had stole it bare.

Still remained the savages, who

Fought, but hunchbacked as they were, few

King Kollys brought seven thousand

To dispute, but they were less grand

Only thousands two rallied by chiefs

Stood to throw Cone back into reefs

For rarely they come down their hills

And mountains to the island’s rills,

Ne’er mind the shores belonged to Gare;

Ironic in their slight wrought far.

They pushed the Deutrans for e’er brave

As it always was bloodshed craved.

Prince Trichallion was joined fast

By comrades dismounted last

Great allies to stand: Teletes,

Son of Bennar from Ephides,

Then Crudor from Rhilles of dozen

And King Sinder, Cone’s gray cousin

Who afar from Dralt brought thirty

Ships’ rowers to aid, all sturdy.

They in their contingents sallied

As savages their chiefs rallied

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Onward in messy and steer path

Combat in loathful and queer bath

Trichallion with shield made jest:

“They charge as if numbers they best,

But ‘tis us with our ships hundred

That’ll have all their crude tides undid,”

But one foul hunchback savage leapt

And the legs of Bennar’s son swept

He made cry with teeth bent and cracked

And thrust his pike down in cruel act

The life from Teletes vanished

His hopeful smiling lips banished

As his soul departed from earth

The pike o’erthrowing his bold birth

Bennar’s son collapsed at the feet

Of Crudor, who glided to meet

This foe of darted dash and strength

Upward he aimed his spear at length

But missed, then the savage replied:

Crudor would have spat, choked and died

Were it not for Trichallion

Whose speed would save battalion

King Sinder led his comrade back

For shock still had his wits in smack

Trichallion then stood alone

Against the savage, whose skill own

Revealed him from no common line

Here could a savage king’s son shine

What son of the barbarian,

From Primantalkhobar’s crude span,

The prince knew not; he rode forth cold

But the savage son ne’er did fold

He with pike met Trichallion

The savage sped like stallion

Each son had a show pomp of youth

And Trichallion’s blood spat tooth

But nonetheless he roared with shield

And bashed the savage head to yield

His foe made no such act, instead

Shot at Trichallion’s bold head

Saliva made way into eye

And the savage fought new awry

For the son of Cone stumbled down

But gained balance and stopped to frown

Pike became lodged in the youth’s steel

But Trichallion spurned to reel

A false maneuver to distract

The savage fell with body hacked

By the prince’s sword, for spear dropped

Had been left in the sand stopped

Thus the savage king’s son perished

His true name the prince ne’er cherished.

At this the beach was scattered clear

Savages running in coarse fear

The savage king’s son armor left

As spoils, a price grand in its heft

Trichallion claimed it for he

Still had two more slain to soon see,

King Cone, his father was avenged

By death of one royal savage end

Falaenus and Damaretes,

His brothers too killed need reprise.

Deutrans and friends surrounded him

Sang and shouted victory hymn

He thanked them but stopped to then grieve:

“Comrades, do here no acting reave,

As before us lie three hundred

Fallen brothers whose blood soaked red

Numbers fair to what we lost first

King Cone, who brought this quest to burst

And my kin to no more roam seas

Falaenus and Damaretes.

Thus shall we claim Garian Shores

First protecting our brave dead corps

Collect bodies and treasures same

We’ll disperse shares for the best claims

Then do again for our shamed foes

Who are shattered now in deep throes

Numbers least double they must be

Or for every one they lost three.

The first pick is mine, I do think

For none else can say foes did shrink

When matched against mine prowess proud

Fled and flew both armies in crowd.

Therefore go or rest otherwise

We’ll wait to march with more allies,

For a thousand ships were promised

Yet one hundred make my count’s list.

Celebrate in good health, Deutrans

For we’ll ne’er know when this war ends.”

The prince spoke and set off to loot

Before coming on a known boot

And stout face, that of his father

That Prince Straen left in all bother

He was bare saved that boot and washed

For the waves almost took him sloshed

Trichallion retrieved the corpse

And weeping became all his works

For how injusticed it must be

To leave one of rank to the sea

Presently the prince thus did swear:

To have all Gare in disrepair

And worse for the savage mountain

Dry would be ev’ry rich fountain

For bloated rubble would replace

All belongings of that vile race.

Then more sons of the great King Cone

Appeared in full, seven more known

For the son of Alteus had

Fifteen by his wife, Lyisse glad

Ten were sons and five were daughters

Yet two were felled in past slaughters:

Falaenus and Damaretes

And daughters five were savage seize

The cause of the expedition

The princes’ now bestowed mission

Trichallion was the youngest

Despite deeds now most grand done just

Cyndaeus was the first eldest

Named for Cone’s ancestor, well dust

Trichallion and seven kin

Embraced and wept deeply therein

As pale Cyndaeus then did speak:

“Of eight brothers us, none are weak,

We stand here with three fallen loved

Parrdon Below’s Rake now has shoved

Their souls above to our Goddess

To a palace where they prod us

With vindication to complete

What set us out on this dear fleet

Let us vow to ne’er abandon

This task as our line puts sand in

The cost, but Glorana exhorts

We give savages firm retorts

Here may we do this, brothers eight

Men of Gare and savages we’ll hate

To the end of time and ever

Become friend to foes then never

Stand proud of our house, fair brothers

Let all we brought see their mothers

We’ll fight in front as is duty;

Rescue sisters in their beauty

And we’ll sail home victorious

Have a feast grand and glorious

That traitors here and Traitors Low

Will quiver in fear of our glow.

Will each of you vow to do this,

Brothers, for the honored abyss?

I, Cyndaeus, will surely do.

But rich Rhenites, what say you?

Wise Tolopus, be this your cause?

Kind Ganor, would you give applause?

Damippion, Damenephor,

Have these rending words touched your core?

And have I convinced Tyndaon?

What of my prince, Trichallion?

Answer me here in truthful leal way

And expect no harsh, coarse delay.”

His words were clear and he swore above,

Hoping to ‘ceive each brother’s love

In order of age they replied

The same approval he’d abide

Determination came innate

Each strove for one similar fate.

Then began camp on the beaches

And walls built to keep out leeches

As Trichallion had wounds stitched

His bloodied spear he now then switched,

The night was safe, saw no attacks

‘Side from nightmares that tore on backs

Of Cone’s sons in their grand tents eight

Joined by friend’s nations four and great:

Cone’s gray cousin, him King Sinder

Far from Dralt the winds ne’er hinder,

Then King Quaredysor, he from

Hanuntum, where Stator too swum,

Last, Kings from Ephides and Rhilles

Who brought with all strength divine thrills:

Damotaon, Lassudonon

All kingly men from noble spawn.

They soon made council to convene

As all shared the same dreadful dream:

That wicked stars align and fall

To oceans the depths dire will call

The start of returns from hellfire

Three Below Her Above won’t tire

And She fails to stop what can’t be

As Parrdon smiles in silent glee,

Farms to famish, the seas to dry

Tears to lavish, and seeds to cry.

Thus they gathered in all their tons,

Twelve with six more (the friend kings’ sons)

Prince Cyndaeus wished to speak first

But all ignored, for ‘twould be cursed

To not heed eldest among them,

King Sinder, scarce of all condemn

He addressed with voice quite weary:

“I trust you know my great query.

Every royal here suffered same

Visions of things eerie and lame.

Why this is I might share one thought:

The Deutran Crown no son has got

With my cousin slain and traveled

Princes remain, no king raveled

This tall choice I do now propose

I’ll stand for him with greater prose

From my cousin’s sons numbered eight

And thus the task is all too great.

May we assembled eighteen then

Vote for one of eight royal men

(Though in truth be it ten to choose

As each eight stands for self or lose).”

The sage king of Dralt there declared

And each peer in this wisdom shared.

Votes in gracious secrecy made

And when done, King Sinder’s voice bade:

“Hark now, the results bare witness

To each promise done in fitness

Candidates for Deutran king picked,

Pray no man here had me foul tricked

As I see honor in those here

Lest mine old eyes are not so dear

I’ll count and then make it be known

Who will next sit on Deutran throne;

Fie! Kind Ganor here comes in last!

No votes for him turns me aghast.

Nephew, thy soul is unworldly

‘Tis only your care absurdly

You have chosen aside yourself

A brother highest on your shelf

I commend this small acting boast

As I continue count of toast.

Ah, a tie for the next five lost

All with one vote are simply glossed

To next, but what is present here?

Another draw, I’ll make it clear!

First Cyndaeus, King Cone’s eldest,

Then Trichallion, his youngest.

Each has five voters to command,

Thus may all that be them now stand.”

All save for the princes then did

Revealing wherein lied their bid:

Sinder and his sons three the youth

Plus the King of Rhilles, ne’er uncouth

The rest in all their addition

Chose Cyndaeus for king’s mission.

Curious, though, that Ganor sat

Since he, for self, made no proud bat

And as then realized by council

He had not yet done espousal.

Now, he stood and implored his kin:

“Speak, and for your words I’ll listen.

I thought not to act on impulse

Toward action needing discourse.

Thus, each must make his case to me

Now that She a tie has decreed

I’ll choose not on bias nor hate

All I seek is pious debate.”

Cyndaeus then spoke in support

Of himself, and all to exhort,

“For I am Cone’s son, the eldest,

Worthy to succeed, I tell this,

Therefore gain a mighty ally

That gives prestige that be no lie

I harry you with great well cause

Else my father above shall pause

At the inglory given me

That should be next in throne to be.

Tradition wills it, Her Above

Thrills it, as Traitors once did shove

Her aside, the Three Men younger,

Thus should be me in no hunger,

Choose wisely, kind brother Ganor,

Make well and proud our stout manor.”

The King of Hanuntum gave cheer

As did the others in their fear

That Cyndaeus shan’t prevail on

From any fool’s treasonous con,

And as Trichallion readied

King Sinder of Dralt then steadied

He prepared to relay to all

What he saw on the beaches’ fall:

“When my brave yet foolish cousin

Fell to the sands’ touch and thus in

Peril our armies were, ‘til brave

Trichallion rallied to save.

His sight made traitor Kollys flee

Then he slew savages in glee

And one just mercy dispersed foes,

Cowherd Etarcus guided throes

In retreat lest the savages

Whose sole great feat: one manages

To close on my dear nephew, who

Wounded already, fought and slew

By inferior skill, that be

A savage prince Sinder could see,

Now slain by great Trichallion,

Dear Cone’s son I now rally on.

Here I beseech you, Kind Ganor

Seek your hero brother’s banner,

And choose him as his deeds shine bright

For who else inspires such grand might?”

Sinder’s sons and Rhilles’ King needed

Not to add as Ganor heeded

Both’s words and left the tent slowly

Looking at the night’s sky holy

He lifted both arms to ask sign

From the Goddess Above divine

Then eight comets appeared too fast

Of mass greatest was the one last

And mass smallest was the one first

Each middle was plain though not worst,

‘Tis then Prince Ganor made his mind

And re-entered to share his find

The miracle outside displayed

The prince eldest should be dismayed

For the last thus youngest comet

Was broadest, and here now tells it

Trichallion prince no longer

Succeeding as the King stronger

By way of greater voice and deeds

And Glorana’s planted stung seeds.

Thus the first day of war ended,

With their prospects there ascended

A hopeful King in place of rage,

Soon would end the Savage’s Age.