Warriors of Light

First, some context: this is a poem I wrote many years ago now (not sure exactly when) for other players in an online medieval-fantasy-setting role-playing game.

 

This tale I sing as my heart does woe,
A tale of darkness and misery,
And with it I hope, my fellows to show,
How we will be viewed within history.

Hark!  Hark!
Raise aloft your drinks,
We’ll feast at the death of our enemies,
Arms!  Arms!
And raise your voice,
For we are the warriors of light.

Now comes the point I fear I did pass,
But now shall I rest on it effortlessly.
Shall we guard the young who sleep on gnolls of grass,
Or do we shun our own responsibility?

Hark!  Hark!
Raise aloft your drinks,
We’ll feast for the young who depend upon us,
Arms!  Arms!
And raise your voice,
For we are the warriors of light.

Our city’s fair walls are a bastion of hope,
For travelers and peasants and those who are lost,
Yet if with the petty issues we can’t cope,
Then we’ve sacrificed virtue for too great a cost.

Hark!  Hark!
Raise aloft your drinks,
We’ll feast to the strength of great harmony,
Arms!  Arms!
And raise your voice,
For we are the warriors of light.

Our will is quite strong and our hearts are so pure,
Yet as we grow lax in tranquility,
We cannot afford to fall for such a lure,
To the serpents who cast us humility.

Hark!  Hark!
Raise aloft your drinks,
We’ll feast to the battles on land of our choice,
Arms!  Arms!
And Raise your voice,
For we are the warriors of light.

Now my tale doth draw to a quiet end,
As I think to the future of victory,
But do we stand by while they strike again?
Or can we strike back at them pre-emptively?

Hark, Hark,
Raise aloft your drinks,
For Mercinae glows against darkness, all,
Arms, Arms,
And raise your voice,
For we are the warriors . . . of light.

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