War can be a treacherous bind, that leaves those left to stand blind. We move forward at command, bearing our weapons like lovers, keeping our brothers at our sides, for the safety and prosperity of their majesty’s hides. And at the end of each day, our enemies souls are dragged to depths of hell, where demons wickedly dwell. Our muskets in hand as we lower them for rest, that brings another day and training to test. Bless my band of brothers O lord. Bring victory upon us as we make use of our muskets and swords. We fight country, we fight for their grace! Let not my essence fall out of place! At your will, let us return home, where our loved ones carve us not in stone! Let my brothers wake refreshed. Let them stand again for what we do best!

Poem written by @AddictiveAramis