Got this poem in return
It's about some norman war that never happened, in places that never existed by leaders that never were:
The battle of evermore
Chapter 1
Once was there a bard
Sir Richard
Was there also a band
Of cowards and bandits
Sir Richard had a bow of yew
And he knew
That craven cowards they were indeed
He devised to make them bleed
For only he knew
Wise was he
Sent under watch
Sentinels of steel
Sentient under the heavenly black of sky
Sent to serve Sir Richard
Covenant of the holy
Tent under the sky
Ascent to the journey
Tether altogether
Intention to destine
Fend for all
All for one
Chapter 3
His armsmen had but a sword faint
T'was a sword of faith
A dexterous expertise to protect
Corruption befacing them it would reflect
And but a shield they had
For the formans naught had
For devils they were devils that they had become
The shield was but a buckler
which uncannily deflected
And for what it not reflected
Against the evil they no doubt faced
A barricade against the unholy embrace
Their blows it displaced
Chapter 3
Vanquished they were, but naked nad bared
For the loot was indeed of Sir Richard's
Ravaged had their land been left
Chapter 4
Now fond they were of Sir Richard
As if by his presence been bewitched
The Lionheart himself
That they were afraid of themselves
Or rather what had they become, elves
Confluxed between anger and fondness
Without knowing
Recoring had towards him kindness
What they were sowing
Built a forge in his honour
Now looking alluring
In the shell glamore
They had stamped from the forge enamore
They were about to face him once more
It was to be the first and the last
the battle of nevermore
So it came to pass
Dressed in carapace
That merely hindered their pace
They decided to amass
A legion
And dazed and confused
To march and parade
Into a contest
Chapter 5
Bravely he was, Sir Richard
By their side, par'de'
Singing and crying
Glimpsed them dying
Laughter, Laughter
Mortal ever after
As they realized
It was no fantasy of theirs
And about to be actualized
Chapter 6
Lost was their mind
In the heat of battle
Still not unkind
towards his Maul
The struggle within
Turned they not aside
They were not his kin
But couldnt cast aside
Their own devision
The carapace that entrapped them
Made of heavy Chitin
For it condemned
It had a flaw
and they now saw
In horror
His roar
Thunder beckoned
As they reckoned
They couldn't flee
For it was no longer an illusion
Had they become not disillusioned
They realized what they had become
The forge of hell, which had consumed all their income
It was how they gathered
It was the fortune they'd rather
Stolen
For they were thieves not again
Chapter 7
Great he was indeed
This Sir Richard indeed
Now crowned
King of bretagne
It was already done
But a task yet undone
Remained
In their remains
The same cowards they had been
Would they endure
From the guile of duress
The stretch of the longbow
The shaft in their armor
Before it would they bow
Now in full galore
For it had had already consumed
They fervor for battle
It had plucked and plumed
But they had not heard it's brattle
The bow of yew
Shot of an arrow
In silence
Violence
Chapter 8
In the march of quiet
Descended upon them quite
Or what was left of them
Void glimmer
Side by side,
We walk the night,
Vied and sighed,
In starlight,
Mallet and dagger,
Justice infer
The moment arrived
Chapter 9
Petrified
Mortified
Terrified
No an unwillingness to not die
Cascade of hopeless they couldnt scry
Chains of disohonor for lie
Polarizing convulsions shy
Guaranteed destruction cry
Unholy implosion pry
Chapter 10
To live is to die
As he lived through the archer's glory
He did realize
Relished in the battle foray
Sir Richard The Lionheart