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Sandmen

 

  We are called Sandmen.
Hard abrasive gravel blowing with the wind,
Adapted to this ravaged land,
Parched and deadly.
We are foragers and mercenaries,
Brothers bonded by war and starvation.
We seek out old technology and resources,
And sell them to the highest bidder
Fire, metal and disease make up our world,
A paradise rendered sandy hell,
By generations past who refused to stand,
Against greed and ignorance,
And where, today, only Sandmen may survive.