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The Spanish Lion
The Spanish Lion Across the hot desert sand, out of the wavering heat rides a giant of a man, on a black gilded stallion. His sun lit castillian sword held high, a warning to the Moors, who yet may die. Birds of pray circle aloft and scream their savage cry, as they wait for the last invading Moor to die. Silence befalls the crimson, battlefield. Feasting upon the unexpected bounty, the scavengers care not why. Hundreds of shield clad Moors lay dead or dying. Their banners no longer flying. Their mounts wandering aimlessly on the desert sand, as the victors steal the gold from the dead Moors' hands. It's the year one thousand, Spain sustains another day. Thanks to the mighty El Cid, who fought like a lion to keep the invaders at bay.
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