The ear-ringing silence that enveloped the clearing was suddenly broken as a defiant thump of sound was heard. It was a sound so wild and untamed yet perfect and unmistakable in its own. War drums. The thump came again, and again, slowly forming a powerful flow of rhythm. As the beat began to crescendo the bass could be felt pulsing through every body present. The drumming intensified and all attention turned to the source of sound, listening to its mesmerizing beat. Then, as suddenly as it had started, all sound ceased. It was the calm before the storm. In the silence, a group of warriors revealed themselves, armed and battle ready, their swords glinting in the fading sun as they raised their blades toward the sky. Each wore a sash with the high cross around their waist, and a fearless expression on their stoic face.
Arrows shot from the group of warriors, cutting through the air and pounding into their targets with terrifying accuracy. The warriors began the fierce battle with war paint across their face, determination embedded into their souls, and their vocal cords playing their rhythmic chant…
“We are the Dragoons”
“We are brothers of the sword”
“We live by the sword”
“We die by the sword”
“Ashes to Ashes”
“Dust to Dust”
“We are Dragoons”