They rode upon the backs of thundering horses
for faith had unleashed a terrible beast
These men would offer their souls in service
to the dark unholy priests...
"To what end do we serve our Lord and Master
is justice not the ultimate form of faith?
Should we not stand and fight in his name
to cleanse the Earth of this heathen waste!"
It was these orators, chaplains of faith;
men of the cloth who bore a fire
They lit their brothers with impassioned speeches
fueled by their own desire...
They taught their followers that blood was faith
and devotion was found at the edge of a blade
"Blessed is the mind too small for doubt
for the faithful shall never be swayed..."
The men who accepted them, though pure at heart
would soon be eaten by Lust and Greed
For Wrath had become a norm of existence
and death became a Templar's creed...
But woe betide the man who slaughters
for his soul shall be forever stained
And no penance may ever remove this grief;