Children of a Metal god.

High on a hill, the soldiers unite: Preparing themselves for the battle to fight. The clancking of armour can be heard miles away, as they fit themselves out for the end of their days. The soldiers do know that tomorrow’s their last. Say goodbye to their children, their wives and their past. Their deeds on that day will echo through time. That, to them, is the conquest divine. They saddle their horses and gallop away into the sunsset of the fast dying day. They camp out a mile away from their foes. And wait until dawn, when it’s the right time to go. The sun has now risen, and the sky is drenched red. The soldiers, for the last time, have made up their beds. In long rows they stand, row upon row. Young boys have been forced to have to grow old. The two armies clash with power and force! Dust billows high in the sky as they go forth! *** Bodies dismemberd, lie strewn like seeds that will never grow, or fulfill in our needs. Their deeds on that day will echo through time. The product of war is one not devine. Their last mission was, but a hopeless facade. They are the Children of a Metal god.