Five-Minute fiction - 23:25-23:30
The steel sings. Sharp and swift it cuts. Once, twice, thrice. Men fall, scythed like wheat, and songs are sung of the Knights of Emer. Bloodly butchers all, hard and savage. Brutes and barbarians. They kill, pillage, and salt the earth as they go. Ruining all that lays before them, and all that could come after them. The bloody hand is their sigil. A clenched fist of destruction that sweeps aside all thought of law and order. There is no law. There is no order. There is only the fight, only the dying men who scream like little boys. Calling for their mothers, their fathers, and their gods to take away their suffering, to ease their pain, and make way of their passing. These cries fall on the deaf ears of the Knights of Emer, for they hear only the song of the steel.
The steel sings. Sharp and swift it cuts. Once, twice, thrice. Men fall, scythed like wheat, and songs are sung of the Knights of Emer. Bloodly butchers all, hard and savage. Brutes and barbarians. They kill, pillage, and salt the earth as they go. Ruining all that lays before them, and all that could come after them. The bloody hand is their sigil. A clenched fist of destruction that sweeps aside all thought of law and order. There is no law. There is no order. There is only the fight, only the dying men who scream like little boys. Calling for their mothers, their fathers, and their gods to take away their suffering, to ease their pain, and make way of their passing. These cries fall on the deaf ears of the Knights of Emer, for they hear only the song of the steel.