Aeron: This is where the planet begins. Steericon. This is where life is danger. Were everyone was bloodthirsty for the gold. For the win. FOREVER. Merchants of vehicles, guns, armor, and potions grow richer and richer, and they put tier markets on the battlefield. The Wasteland of Death. Merchants give food, they give materials, and even defense units like turrets and robots. Mercenaries pack up in groups, and the bars overflow! Vicious aliens come in packs to grab the loot, and many other humans are just as bloodthirsty than the devil himself. I am a Icoleling, a former resident of Icolelian, the planet of war.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem