On a wind blown plain, Death cries out in frantic rage. In the valley of the bane Light and Dark fight an age. Dark conjures an army of bones; Made of those who sold their soals, They march upon the world to roam, On steeds as black as coal. Light sends forth a sacred scroll, Read alowed by Darks own. Bringing forth men clad in gold; Causing Dark to surrender his throne. Light has won the battle at hand, beware Darks last stand.
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