Three horns, Triskelion!

“Welcome moving mass of seasoned men

That face rain and the wildest storms

Stoically with the same commotion of

squashing a pile of worms.

We travel for miles. Miles, yards...

Not a difference to us

Upon our shoulders we carry this heavy fur

Some may call us savages

But wilder shall be their dread if we clash in battle”

Set on a cloud of dust

A line of warriors

Cover the horizon

They march scattered

No order is required

To wreak havoc upon the puny

Tentative threats...

Combined with the dimness of the pale sun

Reddened hair and beard

Undulates to the omnipresent seashore winds

Serpenting like the bowels of their victims...

No one can tell

Which will be their destination

No living being can tell

The destruction they're able to unleash

A rude strategy they apply to the battlefield

The fundaments are basic

To tame the flesh, rendering it apart

Three horns!

With pride they bear ornate shields

Painted with an icon

Three horns, a Triskelion!