A man he saw,
all he had fade to black.
The world around him
turned away from his touch.
One by one
he saw everyone flee,
and in despair he said
"I will fight this no more."

A soldier was he,
respected and feared,
power lied in his fists
but also in heart.
For one reason or more,
people shyed from his hand,
the soldier he was,
confused was he too.

Pressure from one side,
and more from the rest,
the soldier burdened
by the voices that dragged him.
He laughed at the word quit
and frowned at the word fail
in flames he would walk,
on wings he would fly.

A village came to raid,
during this troubling time,
when his troops walked away,
and his mind was confused.
In front of the army,
of five hundred or more,
the soldier he was
stood there all alone.

Closing his eyes,
the solider thought back
of everything he had,
of everyone he loved.
As arrows flew through,
four hundred hit home,
and pierced through his body,
penetrating all parts.

The army blinked in surprise,
as the soldier stood tall,
a member of them
asked "why do you still live?"
the soldier smirked, with a wink
"I'm too stubborn to die,"
And a voice came from behind
"He's too stubborn to quit."

Surrounding the soldier,
came all of his friends,
all wielding bows, swords and knives,
and monks brandishing fists.
"He's never alone,"
"We're always as one."
The solider grinned and said,
"Alright, show me what you've got."


Penned by my hand on the 14th of Scarlatan, in the year 605 AF.