Gather around as I now tell a story
Of a plague on this land and its glory
Who if given his way
Will drive all lifeforms away
Then leave it, dead from his gory.

There once was an Occi named Spiro
When born had the brain of a microbe
Attacked plants soon he did
Called their counterattack a sin
Then became he a useless old pyro

He sailed to Ulangi all alone
Then joined by his fellow thug clones
Claimed the island they tried
Called its native forest unfit life
So charred they the land to the bone

Demanded then to be kingly crowned
With this isle as his sovereign realm
His poor FFOS 'victims' got harmed
By the native forest they alarmed
So his excuse for his fight was then helmed

Next the 'victims' called their cause one of freedom.
From the forest which had suddenly set upon them.
The wise asked why this disgrace
Chose he forest in the first place
For the place 'he' chose to exile himself within

Smarter thought they that he find a cave
A cavern, or unforested plain
Though the sages knew why
He ignored this great lie
He'd lack the excuse to fight against his own gain

For all he wanted in life was a reason
To kill and get away with the treason
Against the life Varian gave him
Without thought for his mayhem
Or retribution from the Gods who made him

Next war was brought upon this land
And cities summoned each able bodied man
Yet on Ulangi one dreaded
No excuse to join in the bloodshed
So sold he himself to them with most cash in hand

Soon Ashtan bought he and his legion
Though claimed they to be 'freedom' breathin
Yet see Ashtan now
All shops once which stood proud
Now all given to pay these feudal heathens

Oh sure, they're 'borrowed' until the war's stopped
At least that they tell the shopkeeps they robbed
Notice their posting though do I
Reject all peace they do cry
Lest they lose their 'borrowed' shops in one drop

Yet this is not the greatest of fears
In the mind of each RL member and peer
Without this war their lives are void
For killing is all they can enjoy
And without it no sentience betwixt their ears

Ahh the brave Spirokai and his jerks
With no courage, nor lack of fear in their work
Sending their dop's across the land
While they cower locked away from harm's hand
Slaying all without such remote fighting perks

The moral now is clear in this diadem
Of the purpose of the Renegade Legion
All they exist for is death bringing
Without which their lives have no meaning
Indeed the world would be better without them

Think you this poet is wrong?
Such would fill my heart with a glad song.
Show me one thing they've done then says I
Of anything save to destroy lives
And strive to ruin this world before long.

_-Talanare-_


Penned by my hand on the 14th of Ios, in the year 129 MA.