submitted by /u/RotInPixels [link] [comments]
A young bright-eyed squire rose up the hill
No more working the dyes; no more ink, and quill
He would be the greatest warrior for the realm to hate
Shields will splinter and bones will break
All his enemies will meet their fates’
But little did he know that destiny is cruel,
For his forefathers before had suffered too,
Not until the Lord of the Banner shall wreak
Havoc; The harvest of the season will never bloom.
Submitted August 15, 2019 at 03:14PM by Sea-Raider https://ift.tt/2H3yn5B
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