originally posted in:Secular Sevens
A poem about a Sangheili with the name of Vien.
Broad enough?
English
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Vien was a warrior, There's no doubt. He trained every day, To his cause he was devout. He fought long and hard, Against the human scum. He was never wounded, And he was never dumb. Adept at setting traps. He ambushed his foe. He slashed right and left, And brought his enemies low. Never was there a finer soldier, Who handled a vicious blade. His officers respected him, His inferiors obeyed. But one fateful mission, Saw the end of Vien. As he ventured with his squad, Into a human den. By soldiers, he was not killed. But by scared a scared Brute. On edge and fearful, He saw a shadow and thought, 'Shoot.'