The Illawen – Feast Of The Vultures

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in our factory fortress high upon the hill
far away from the crumbling city streets
we awaited the warlords who marched with their guns
the scouts returned from forest posts above the only road

the only news the warlords march at dawn
they are thousands to our hundred strong

we crept near, hidden within the woods
sentries wordless slain, smiles across their throats
set fire to gunpowder kegs, we freed all the horses
stole back through the trees

the next morning their remaining force marched on
though many fled throughout the night and others never woke
their remaining ammo was just enough to bring down the wall
but inside we met with sword to their bayonets
shields were splintered guns were broke both sides suffered death
many a friend will never drink again
but the goddess smiled her favor through the day
and ten fell to every one of us

by the time the vultures circled overhead
their main force broke away and ran

we ran them down, galloping through their ranks
no quarter given, no quarter offered
to those who’d bend a knee, to other than themselves
their lord lay slain

his head was hung above the gates
their greed will not despoil the land but their blood shall feed the soil

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