As the blade comes free of the scabbards hold,
The story of its life will surely be told,
Of the blood that has flown along its razor sharp edge,
From the cutting of limbs to the severing of heads.

To kill for the sake of glory is perhaps the nature of man,
For Honor and Valour with sharp sword in hand,
The swing and thrust, the cut and the blow,
The blood on the floor, always away does it flow.

But to avert your violence and to turn your cheek,
Is to be then known as one dishonorable and weak,
And what does one learn by duelling and such,
That when you lose after a time we all turn to dust.

So to those that believe they fight for Glory, Valour and Love.
Really perhaps you fight for evil, death and Blood.

Sealed with the waxed Forest emblem, by Goryan Ath'loren

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Mayan, in the year 295 AF.