The clash of swords, whistle of arrows,
Tearing with claws, and screams of death.
Blinding light of fireballs and souls fleeing,
These are the sights of them...

Loners and lovers and misfits abound here,
Striking one another down with no remorse.
They seem to come from everywhere,
Cities, villages, forests, and even caves.

Their lives are lived for the thrill of battle,
Many lost in these fleeting moments of valor.
Thoth Himself welcomes many of them,
The unlucky and too courageous of them.

The stains of blood on forest floors,
The bodies buried in thousands.
These are the sights of them...
They are the warriors of Sapience.

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Daedalan, in the year 353 AF.