Created June 30, 2003
You crash through the underbrush and out onto the path, late for training because you found it more interesting to go on some adventure in Wildwood Forest. You find yourself struggling for breath and collapse at the familiar entrance to the camp-- you can remember the reprimand from the commander last time you did such a thing.
But this time, no harsh words befall your ears. Your side goes un-kicked. You lift your head up suspiciously, but the commander is nowhere to be seen. In fact, the entire camp seems deserted except for a small jet black wolf with haunting orange eyes who sits not ten paces from you, watching you silently. You smile hesitantly, but he doesn’t offer any sign of friendliness. He just stares without saying a word.
"Uh, where is everyone?" You ask, rather dreading the answer.
The wolf stares for a moment longer, making you even more uncomfortable than you already are, then stands up and steps closer to you. His voice is a low rasp, like a sword sliding against a stone, and his face is stony. "Some dead, others just gone." You involuntarily take a step back, wondering why some beasts were dead, and if this wolf was responsible. He notices your discomfort and bares his teeth in an attempt at a grin. "Not by my paw."
You frown at him for saying such ridiculous things. "Where's Commander Silverfang? I need to speak with him immediately."
"You won't find him here. He was first to leave." The black wolf seems to enjoy your dismay at the news. "Yes, the warriors of the legions, the sailors of the armada, all have vanished. And you, soldier, what are you still doing here?"
You feel your stomach slowly drop out of your body and slither to the ground. A distinct buzz hums away in your ears. First the castle gone, then the military camp gone... you cover your face in both paws and mutter to yourself. "What am I still doing here?"
May blood run warm and night fall dark,
To hear our glorious leader's bark!
May all the goodbeasts quiver in fear,
As daggers thrust and swords sear.
Lift your footpaws, march! March!
March, you worms, march, march!
We'll rule the world from north to south,
As death rears head and opens mouth.
First the forest, than the sea,
All shall belong to we, we!
Lift your footpaws, march! March!
March, you worms, march, march!
Forward into battle, the standards waving high,
All our foes must be conquered, they all shall die!
The drums of war sound - boomboomboom,
We shove our foes into their tombs!
Lift your footpaws, march! March!
March, you worms, march, march!
Booty, loot, and treasure to boot!
Burn the houses, filld with soot!
Skulls on pikes are grinning,
For we the war are winning!
Lift your footpaws, march! March!
March, you worms, march, march!
Khurshan Rirush Shamshir
