Post by EchoVamper on Jul 29, 2010 14:23:42 GMT -5
This is about 5 years old now. The player of a character on another server (Galahad or Gawaine I think) had passed away. His name was Ferrase, if I remember correctly. I didn't know him, but was so moved by the outpouring on the VN Boards as his friends created an in-game memorial service, that I wrote this:
A Soldier Falls
When a soldier falls, in realms of the near or the far away,
the sky weeps a bit in all lands,
the wind howls frantic through the trees,
mountains push hot lava into churning seas,
Armsmen, shoulder to shoulder,
march through the wilderness,
together as if their marching cadence,
were but one powerful dirge of sadness.
Warriors set their hammer to the bell
of liberty and their lips to the horn of retribution,
and lightning rains from their fingertips
onto shards of broken dreams hard-frozen in the ground.
.
Heroes lay their arms across their shoulders,
and march slumping forward for a bit,
as if the weight of some foul demon
cast a heavy glamour upon their soul.
Yet soon in that dark hour...
stand erect do one and all,
arrow-straight and tall,
with purpose diamond hard!
It is upon this day of brave men
stopping to cry,
and then moving on, undaunted,
further into evil’s lair,
that we base the calendar of our valor,
their marching onward,
knees high
and feet firmly tamping reddened ground,
becomes the heartbeat of a new and stronger land,
In the face of such a will,
so resolute, by unison combined,
the mountains grant a distant view,
the wind invokes a lullaby,
the sun transforms each falling tear
into a golden memory.
A Soldier Falls
When a soldier falls, in realms of the near or the far away,
the sky weeps a bit in all lands,
the wind howls frantic through the trees,
mountains push hot lava into churning seas,
Armsmen, shoulder to shoulder,
march through the wilderness,
together as if their marching cadence,
were but one powerful dirge of sadness.
Warriors set their hammer to the bell
of liberty and their lips to the horn of retribution,
and lightning rains from their fingertips
onto shards of broken dreams hard-frozen in the ground.
.
Heroes lay their arms across their shoulders,
and march slumping forward for a bit,
as if the weight of some foul demon
cast a heavy glamour upon their soul.
Yet soon in that dark hour...
stand erect do one and all,
arrow-straight and tall,
with purpose diamond hard!
It is upon this day of brave men
stopping to cry,
and then moving on, undaunted,
further into evil’s lair,
that we base the calendar of our valor,
their marching onward,
knees high
and feet firmly tamping reddened ground,
becomes the heartbeat of a new and stronger land,
In the face of such a will,
so resolute, by unison combined,
the mountains grant a distant view,
the wind invokes a lullaby,
the sun transforms each falling tear
into a golden memory.
