"The Battle Cry of The Syndicate"
It rained heavily upon this morning the dark clouds seeming to predict the bloody day that was to come. A steady beat is heard off in the distance followed slowly by what sounds like footfalls on the soaked grass. The sound rises with the hills untill finally they catch a glimpse. First, a man heavily clad in armor his helm made from the skull of a daemon riding upon a great black mare. He halts upon the top of a hill surveying the huddled group of mismatched criminals at the bottem. His arm raises beckoning the sound to continue as a sea of blue robes slowly work their way up the hill emerging behind him. A flash of lightning, a bolt of thunder seem to signal the drum beats to quickin. Untill the hillside is drowned in blue. All lead by this man, the eyes of the enemy grow large as they finally realize what all do, to late. This man was the fabled Dragons, and this was The Syndicate. At that moment a mixture of fear, dismay, and regret ran through the army at Dragons' feet. Regret, for they had broken the laws of Brittania and brutaly slaughtered two unarmed Syndicate members in a bold challenge to Dragons. The challenge was met in full force it seemed and indeed they did regret it, but they did not regret their actions only that they would pay for them dearly. A smirk plays about the man's lips hidden by that daemon helm. His right hand slowly draws back to the sword hilt resting at his side he grips the pommel and whispers softly. You have killed our own savagley, they were defenseless and still you slaughtered them. Dishonorable, I pity you. The soft sound of his voice seemed to drift magically to the ears of the frightened commander in the valley below. His sword draws and comes outward above his head slashing at the air. As if by cue another bolt of lightning and a mighty cry emerges from the blue abyss as they charge "LONG LIVE THE SYNDICATE!!!!!"
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