| The hands that killed a thousand mortal men now turn their bloody digits to paper,ink and pen, sorting through settling dust and tales yet to tell, trying to search for the unbreakable spell to capture their reader and bring him to battle; to slaughter the townsmen and plunder the cattle along with those arms, to the elbow with blood and stained with a conscience that forbodes no good. From blood I was made, and to blood I shall return, a warrior's death of honor I would never spurn, but that fate was not cast in the lots for me, only a burial of ignominy. Vengeance is mine, and mine alone to wreak, | |
| I will destroy the one whose name is death to speak. | |
| My hands furiously spin the tale, My head trying to keep up, The words pouring onto the page, As I lose myself to my mind. | |
| So will you fight? Or stab me through? The choice is yours to make, but reader, hear my tale before you kill me, for your sake. |
Join in! Add to the addline:
Author notes
Not too much gore, please. This is a warrior's tribute to his unending battles. He is forever tied to war, and eventually he knows that war will claim him. NO cussing or sexual references (I can't believe I'm doing this for an add-line).
Adding your comment:
