Land Of Loth Poem by Jonathan Andrews

Far below the steel-grey sky,
Where the realm of Loth does lie,
There approached my troop and I.
Silently we drew more nigh;

Ne'er did the town suspect us,
Simply sat there, blind and helpless.
We did yell in blaring chorus,
Arms a-raised and shouts clamorous.

Descended we unto the plain;
Swords did clash, and arrows rain.
Continued we our fev'rish strain,
Yielding not to wounds nor pain.

Onward tore we through their ranks,
Piercing guard and cleaving shield.
Shredding fiercely their phalanx,
Breaking weapons they would wield.

From the battle never shrinking,
Moving sword as fast as thinking.
Blood the ground was freely drinking,
While the suns to east were sinking.

Now the town was prey to plunder;
All their armies lay now dead.
Their defences ripped asunder,
Cobblestones a-running red.

Now our unit loots the village,
Grab, loot, burn, ruthlessly pillage;
Then we crept back through the rough sage,
Find more towns--another voyage.

Ever onward in this cycle:
Sneak and skirmish in the war.
'Till we die all as a jackal,
Fighting 'till we are no more.

Far below the steel-grey sky,
Where the land of Loth does lie,
Here we sometime all must die;
As we war, we wonder why.

War no more, if we all die
Where the land of Loth does lie.