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The weave of song, that call upon the wind
Portents a change upon the very air
The storm that brings its bellows neath its chin
The shadows spilling up the castle stair

Legionnaires do fall upon the shore
As hope is choked and blood red terror reigns
So too the cities fall as giants roar
One thousand embers drifting from the flames

Who cometh from beneath the sky’s black wreath?
With will upon their brow and upturned chest
Though fate has wracked the land and burned the heath
Faint hope shall charge the righteous to their test

O never were the songs so sad and true
as when they sang of moons of Bara Druu

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The Tabaxi Regiment mr_ite