The town bell rings to worn the plebs, run for your lives, or lose your heads.
The village is silent, the peasants are still, oh what an army amasses on the hill.
Forward they charge, the earth begins to rumble, ramming our walls, the stone starts to crumble.
A lonesome monk looks to the sky, God help us, we're going to die.
Our defences are demolished and all faith is diminished, but back scrambles our armies, this story isn't finished.
The heavens turn black as the arrows fly, start the game already, is the battle cry.
Our armies get slaughtered due to hill bonus, combined with Teuton pockets unit speed slowness.
We fall back and mass under military blockade, as a Mongol ally breaks into their trade.
Just as I was looking for someone to blame, the other team resign and call good game.
There once was a young Milmano
Ruling a thriving town
But what lurked unknown, deep below
Would take Milmano's crown
The beasts sprang from jungle shadow
After spearman they came
For blood of townfolk they follow
Leader of jaguar train
The people did run and bellow
Weak peons, stalked by death
None could hide, a feast for the crow
As prey was their last breath
Truly a bitter pill to swallow
No villager exists
Always anticipate, Milmano
Gaia's murderous twist
The x meant that no rhymes are neccessary. It looks great though, really beautiful poem. <3
The x meant that no rhymes are neccessary. It looks great though, really beautiful poem. <3
Oooops, that would have made it a lot easier to write and probably a lot better :lol: