~Most People hear him in stories~  ~Whispers ushered by men with eyes more horrified than the things they witnessed and what they endured~ 

~They see him in the shape of young men biting each other's throats~ 
~The people ruling over with iron fists and teeth coloured crimson~ 
~He is a simple horsemen~ 
~A simple god~ 
~Always waiting to turn your rage into fury~
 ~Waiting to taste war once more upon his parched tongue~

~Be wary for even bloodshed holds out his arms~ 
~Step lightly as his heart never beats a sound~
~He is waiting~ ~Waiting for his turn to play his part~


War has one simple name

Numerous have labeled him with names more than worth it 

But even he holds one name feared by all who are brave enough to die in his own bloodied grounds carved in his name

"Ivor Rowanheart" 

Alike them all war take shapes of a mere human

The only way to truly know he is there

Are those golden eyes piercing your back

Just like them he holds the quietest heart one that beats life