Amidst the silence and the dust of aftermath,
Where thousands strong once stood and laughed
Into the face of death, and forged their path
Beneath the thunder's rolling crash,
Naught remains anymore, no, naught but blood and ash.
None knew, nor know what it would take to win the day
Woe, for the Legion has passed through this way.
Platoons in solid ranks egress from barren plain,
On high begins a solemn rain
Another land now fallen into pain,
By tax of war, willpower drained
The armies' march goes on to lands alive again;
In dreary quiet town, a new herald proclaims-
Woe, for the Legion shall pass through this way.
What is mercy? The Legion knows nothing of this
To them the conquest brings all bliss.
Though now they realize something is amiss
Their normal easy slaughter held
Where a wavering, valiant, barely-risen line does stay
Woe, for the Legion forges on this way.
With shield and halberd raised against the argent sky
Remainders stand against the tides
Of shattered rust and metal, blood and strife
And fear, the fear through blackest night.
Where once a humble village made its claim to life,
The last three hold before the ever-growing fray-
Woe, for the Legion won't relent this day.
And blades awhirl under the silver thunderheads
Trio of heroes, all but dead
Stand back to back to back, hold off the dread
Of armies fighting as unfed;
Spray of blood upon the wind, the dust beneath stained red.
The three call now call upon their might and say
No, for the Legion will not win this day.
Though from a dark descent this scourge must draw its souls
No doubt, for nothing else could hold
In hearts, such moral shadow sevenfold.
But this, their match, at last, perhaps-
This, the three, with brilliant auras to behold
Slash left, swing right, like arcs of light with echoed blades
Rise, for the Legion may yet fall today.
The smoke arisen off the newly fallen foe
A shattered cloud from ash and bone
Settles down to the empty field of stone.
And from the silenced plain no life yet shows
Everything within is held in death's blank white glow.
Until the three arise, to outlast it all:
Stand; for the Legion's met its final fall.
And as triumphant saviors leave their joyous brand
With bright flags planted on the land,
Though certain that by their own heavy hands
The Legion was reduced to sand-
A new Legion slowly born from this simple band
Once best of men, their virtue now they cannot prove
Run: for the Next Legion is on the move.
Added two more stanzas- three and eight.
Edited by Chro, Oct 31 2012 - 09:19 PM.