The Storm and the Rose

The Storm and the Rose
Verse I
Sing, Calliope, a song of the lost.
Sing, Calliope, of Roses and Storms.
Sing, Calliope, of  their regrets.
Let the verse ring true, let the verse ring sweet,
Let the bitterness of their war be lost,
And let us instead remember the peace.
Adelyn the Red Rose, a Maid of War
And Lightning Struck Thrice, the Son of the Storm.
Their peace born of battle and sweet sorrow.
Let us remember it Calliope.
Let us go forth to the great Sea of Grass,
Where Road’s Promise and Lind’s Bloom came to meet,
With banners and blades in hand, steel meeting flesh.

Verse II
Sing, Calliope, of Roses and Storms.
The day that the armies of warring states
Brought metal to mail under the splendid sun.

The Knights of Lind’s Bloom, under their banner,
Emblazoned with roses, steady of breath.
She marched at the front, stoic and fearless.
Just as when she emerged from her mother,
An infant who did not shed tears or scream,
A warrior at birth, who walked amidst the
Fields of battle, steel in hand, swathed in mail.
Blessed by the roses of war, like her queen.
Daughter of Madelyn, Daughter of Linda,
The Maid of War, Adelyn the Red Rose.
A General and Queen, She Marched Forth.

The Legions of Road’s Promise came to conquer.
Men of stalwart mettle and courage,
Their shields and spears held high, banners in the breeze.
One led the Legions, a man just like them.
No medals, no crown. Just armor and blade.
His eyes burned with tranquil fury,
Strides swift as rain, steps heavy as thunder,
The wind at his back, battle in his heart.
Named for the great auspice upon his birth,
Lightning Struck Thrice, Son of the Storm.
He loosed the Sword of King’s from his hip,
And his men roared their cheer, “Conquer or Die”
The Creed of Road’s Promise, their Home and Hearth.

The meeting of metal and mail began.
The ringing of blades roared on the wind,
Their Steel claiming blood, their mail shielding life.
Adelyn the Red Rose, strode through the field.
Evading their strikes, while dealing her own.
Blood red as the rose painted her steel,
Her silver mail now coated in crimson.
The Maid of War cut a path to her prey.
Lightning Struck Thrice fought with fury and strength,
Steel flashing white like the bolts from the sky,
A deluge of knight’s fell in the wake of his blade.
Each clash like thunder, his eyes burning bright.
Twin orbs of flame guiding the warrior.
The Storm and the Rose, steeled heart and blade,
They clashed blades, nations, and wills that day.

Lightning Struck Thrice, Adelyn the Red Rose,
Two sides of a coin, threads in the same stitch,
Lightning’s blows struck swiftly and firmly,
Yet Adelyn deflected them deftly.
The Red Rose’s steel could not meet its’ mark,
Lightning Struck Thrice moved swifter than the wind.
The Sword Of Kings sought the blood of the Rose,
Yet the Rose’s Thorn blocked its’ path each time.
A ring formed around the two champions,
Their soldiers dared not disturb the duel.
Lightning Struck Thrice fell back and changed stance,
Adelyn the Red Rose followed suit.
They circled and clashed, stilling their breath.
Adelyn’s red rose eyes starred into flame,
Lightning Struck Thrice  spat into the mud,
The twin orbs of flame burned brightly with glee.

Red begat blue, blue begat white, the flame’s
Glowing with fury, ready to surge forth.
A column of flame erupted from them,
They claimed the ground where Adelyn stood.
But the Maid of War was not without tricks,
Where Lightning had flames, she saw what would be.
He was blessed of flame, she of tactics.
Conferred unto the queen’s womb by She Who Warns,
The Goddess of Strategy and Lind’s Bloom.
Adelyn saw where the flames would strike her,
Baiting the swordsman so that she could strike.
The Maid of War loosed her steel swiftly,
The Rose’s Thorn struck Lightning thrice in his side.
Each stroke letting blood, cutting deeply.
Lighting Struck Thrice planted his feet firmly,
And following his name, he struck her thrice.
Adelyn’s sight did naught to still his blade,
Her wounds mirrored his, she saw defeat,
And so Adelyn retreated from him.

The Maid of War evaded his pursuit,
His wounds slowing his advance towards her.
Her eyes saw the path to escape his blade,
The twin orbs of flame could not follow her.
As blood poured from his wounds he scowled.
The battle ebbed back as he left the field.
The first clash between kingdoms had ended,
But their war had begun to burn brightly.

Verse III
On the northern of the Sea of Grass,
Lind’s Bloom made their camp, sharpening their steel,
Mending their mail, and healing their wounded.
Adelyn the Red Rose studied her maps,
And poured over her stratagems there.
Her lieutenant stitched her wounds closed,
And whispered softly to the commander.
“Lady Adelyn, can we hold them back?”
The Red Rose smiled, and gave her response,
“The Legions of Road’s Promise cannot hope
To conquer us Alain. Trust in my sight.”
Alain nodded and stared into her eyes.
Their deep hue matching her hair perfectly.
Red as the rose she was named for.
Her skin like porcelain, colored pink.
The build of a warrior, not a bride.
Her mind wandered back to the battle.
Her thoughts of Lightning Struck Thrice, Son of Storms.
Hailed as the Demon of the South,
A man who stole the mantle of a god.
Her opposite in nearly every way.
Yet there was nobility in that thief.
He stole the Sword of Kings, stole the throne too.
A man undoubtedly of common birth,
Yet a warrior equal to her.
“Alain, my brother tell me of Lightning.
Tell me of Lightning Struck Thrice, Son of Storms.
Tell me of the man I must defeat.”
Alain watched as she pursed her lips.

“He was born to a beggar, an urchin,
He fought in the streets, he fought to survive.
It is said that the thunderclap marked
His life, a storm of a man, blade in hand.
Lightning Struck Thrice, the mercenary.
When he grew tired of fighting for coin,
He went to the palace of Road’s Promise
And challenged the King for his throne.
He slew the tyrant and claimed his place,
But his baseborn blood rendered him blind
When he sat upon the throne of their king.
To restore his lost sight he made for Mount Pyre.
The doom-driven swordsman marched to seek,
Some way to assert his right to the throne.
There at the top of the treacherous peak,
Lay the Sword of Kings, awaiting its heir.
When Lightning Struck Thrice took hold of the blade,
Three bolts from the heavens rained down to him.
He deflected the bolts with steel in hand,
Through force of will and arms he made himself king.
Purpose burned bright in his heart, a flame
One bright enough to banish the darkness,
One bright enough to bring light to his eyes.
His gaze became lit by flames of a king,
His eyes were replaced by burning orbs.
When Lightning returned to Road’s Promise,
He was met by the Southern War Gods.
At their lead, The Patron of Road’s Promise.
Desert King Solaris, God of the Road.
He called Lightning a thief, a tyrant,
A heathen, a blasphemer, a traitor.
Lightning cut him in twain, silencing him.
From the broken god he claimed a mantle,
He went from man, to king, to a demon.
Lightning Struck Thrice, Demon of the South Sands,
King of Road’s Promise, the man you will kill.”

The light of the candles began to fade,
And Adelyn began to look forward,
She searched the future for any sign,
Any sign of her victory at all.
Instead she saw unity between them.
Nothing else. It filled her heart full of rage.