Remember the Witch Hunters [Poem]

Remember the Witch Hunters

Long ago in our kingdoms of old,
powerful witches ruled all you see.
We feared they'd reign forever, and no one knew whether,
any of us would ever be free.

With god-like power borne of the earth,
they fashioned their weapons of stone.
Some rebels would fight, but the witches' might,
reduced them to ashes and bone.

Then came Broma, who gave up the sword,
and taught men to fight with their hands.
He freed many slaves, and trained them in caves,
and gave them hope of retaking their lands.

Next was Len, who perfected the sword,
and taught men the science of the blade.
She betrayed her high post, and began to host,
traitors soon to be made.

Last was Nicodemus, who did not fight at all,
teaching men strength of mind.
They learned to resist pain, from pleasures refrain,
and discipline of an unbreakable kind.

By chance the three would one day meet,
and took their disciples into Broma's hiding place.
They shared their ways, and in future days,
prepared for what they would face.

They chose to strike in the dead of night,
after the witches' annual celebration.
They roamed the palace hall, and killed almost all
of the oppressors of their nation.

The people rallied when they heard,
and thousands perished to the witches' power.
They fought for months and then years, after living in fear,
until at last their victory would flower.

So we must always be thankful and remember,
the Witch Hunters brave and bold.
If they'd not played their part, I could not even start,
to tell this tale I've told.