July 2011
Death Before Dishonor by Durzo Stern, Order of The White Lion
Though I am just a simple bard,
I'll try to leave out all that's gory,
Though it may be rather hard.
I speak of heroes fierce and strong,
Rangers deep with in the wood.
Fighting to undo all that's wrong,
And stand for all that's pure and good.
You see, the rangers, they're a scary thing.
Taken from the tales of old.
The sound of their swift arrows' ring,
makes every evil's blood run cold
I'll try to paint this picture well,
As I see it through my own eyes,
It speaks of men who go through hell,
To triumph strong; glory, their prize.
Picture the battle starting to rage,
As they sound the drums of war.
They're like a beast locked in its cage,
Under a flag worth fighting for.
They hear the mighty battle cry,
From the throats of soldiers proud,
And then their arrows start to fly,
Raining down, death's rain from a cloud.
Unit mates they call each other,
As they fight beneath green, black, and gold.
But to each they are like sister and brother,
As they watch the chaos start to unfold.
Their bows fire straight and true through the air,
As heavy thoughts fill each ranger's head.
In the name of all pure, good and fair,
They leave theirs foes lying dead.
You see my friends, just what they are,
They're not the knights that you think of,
Yet enemies run fast and far,
As their arrows rain from above.
Do you wish to know their secret?
You'll have to promise not to tell,
How are they the fiercest I have met?
How can they walk unscathed through hell?
They are united; they cannot fall,
Cause the ideals that they fight for
allow them to stand proud and tall,
Empowering them down to their core.
So when the rangers come for you,
If you are evil you're a goner.
Their way of life that all once knew:
is "Death Before Dishonor."





