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Baskadia

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Bleeding Quill

FreeWriting

A Half Remembered Dream

In my dreams, a fading voice calls upon me from a loud echo, From a sunless sky, out of the bleak night, a shivering hand reaches out to hold; From the ground beneath, shreds of fog rises to seal me within As my feet stomps on charred bones I stretch my arms forward and give command; rise, o charred bones rise, o fallen; soldiers, princes and peasants alike. Rise! An army forms around me, not of flesh and blood An army forms around me, of bones and rotten armour Battle awaits, we March! Who can

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