Torches of light illuminate this field of mire, meadows of madness will bring forth the dire. Each side clad in their colors of glory, with emblems of pride that express their own story. With great helmets that show no expression, suits of armor that offer suppression. Great knights of honor will join in a game which forever will become part of their fame. With the clap of thunder the battle is joined, we huddle together with pride in our groin.
Projectiles pass with deadly accuracy up above and the masses gather to express fanatical love.
The warrior enters with his weapon of gore in hand, he wields it with power and yelling for more. No one can interrupt his passion for battle no one can remove this Knight from his saddle. The anguish of the fallen brings forth a great pale, the Warrior calls to his wench bring me an ale. But sadly the battle will be lost to history or only one side will be able to shout ' victory'. The saddened Warrior wields his weapon no more with great disgust its cast to the floor.