As the cobra falters before it doth strike I recoil away from thee, awaiting my moment to ricochet forward and make my ****. Such false security aids my real course and weakens my adversary’s resolve and as you happily take full advantage of this ill advised programme you can rely that your mistake is now my gain. As you plunge, I parry and as your momentum fades mine increases in velocity until my blade doth find its target.

This sword of mine, made of finest worked, metal, slides easily through your personage. Flesh, muscle, even bone presents a none problem for this well forged tool. Sharpened point now immersed so deeply through your core that it conveys me too close to this pierced torso. I am spattered by such spurts of blood and sickened by another’s foul breath.

We gaze for a moment, you in the horror and pain of defeat and myself in the satisfaction of victory. You remain upright only through the skewer I have delivered and it is at my decree that you do so. As I withdraw my being the blade extracts itself and it is only then that you are allowed to descend to your indubitable destination.

As crumpled legs can no longer hold the weight of thee I use the momentum of this blades removal to pirouette my body. The spin that culminates with such a strike, a laceration so immense that the removal of your skull is no more than a mere triviality. Your destination is now complete. This is the legitimate place for a lesser man and the norm for a superior warrior than thee.

Come take this gift dear Lucifer, I make a present to you of death's cadaver, it lies here before me at this very moment and it is yours. A donation from one great warrior to another. It seems that I fill such a bottomless pit with unworthy adversary. They suppose honour holds them to stand before such a skilled combatant but their is no morality for lesser men to try. There is no such thing as a honourable fool.

I seek he that will try my skills, he that will take me to the brink of death with more than a single strike. For this person I will gladly redeem as a worthy opponent, for he, I will present my respect in more than a just a mere bow. Such adversary should he become victorious will possess a legacy that will draw him to the status of majesty. I would gladly fall to this superior being and as such, this would be a most fitting and virtuous death.

Battle weary soldier of metal and sword
Honour on the field
For what you fight gallantly for
Enemies fall below each blow,
They are enemies, but die with honour
Dying from the sword
From the bow,Pierced armour  
Flesh no match for cold metal
As they die lying on the floor
Memories of home,
Mother,
Father,
Wife,
Son,
Daughter,
A last moment before cold steel
Ends this agony, life no more.
The battle field of the few living
But mostly dead,
The crows picking at flesh, eyeballs
Skin peeled animals well fed,
You are buried where you fell
No cross
No name
Just a fallen who went to war
Believed,
Followed,
Died for,
The battle for king and country
Against those who would invade
Take what is not there's from our land,
Ours is a fight to the death
We fight with
Lance,
Sword,
Horse,
Bow,
Our enemies this day will taste steel
Die far from there homeland
Be the fallen of no name,
Today we live or die in our kings glorious name.