Order Of Knights. Resigned.

A man draped in iron-bound ringlets. / His forearm is clenched, bearing his few pounds of metal, beaten and refined into a blade. He calls it beautiful, his friend, his right hand. /
Booted in stout cobbled leather, his feet remain settled in the grains of sand, waiting for the hourglass of happenings to converge on him.

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Living for Old Stoney

Jest as soon as we got our kits settled, an orderly ordered us to a drill area where we proudly showed off our new fightin’ skills to General Abner Stone, the base commander. He looked grim at our display, but we quickly decided that he always looked this way.

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