(or the Fall of Britain)
With reputation shielding eyes
Could see not evil’s glare.
With Order's heart and Chaos' strength
Of Danger, unaware.
But evil saw through Virtue's shield,
Their armor but a mist.
And saw that pride of giant size
Oft felled by one knife's twist.
And so the devil's built that pride
For purpose yet unveiled.
For evil knew that Pride's size grew
With each attack that failed.
And so defenders drank their ale
And told of mighty deeds.
While in the forest armies grew
And massed at godly speeds.
And in the morn the guards awoke
To find their brothers dead.
With half their number gone at once
The living cringed with dread.
For hordes of spiderfolk attacked
The weakened shielded arms.
And two great lords on Virtue's side
Raised sword and magic charms.
The hordes thrown back, not once, but twice
In greater numbers came.
And two great lords called volunteers
To finish out the game.
While child and old used ships to flee
The burning city hall.
The two great lords were felled at last.
As all great prides must fall.
Masterpoet
