The Tragedy of Apostasy

A dozen knights in finest armor rode
To kill the dev’lish creature of the deep.
From citadels celestial, by the Code,
They journeyed for the safety of the keep.
The party claimed allegiance to their king,
And gladly did they march for him to war,
Until they found the lands of which none sing,
For there they met the monster of the moor.
The beast fought not with sword nor spear, but voice.
It promised untold riches for a knee.
And, one by one, the soldiers made the choice,
And they were felled without the faintest plea.
None were dissuaded by the death of friends;
Such is the tragic end of selfish ends.


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