The Ever first creature to walk his land
Single greatest being of His empire
And his mighty subjects bring tidings to him
Tidings of valiant rebellion against his dark brutality.
The General of His Forces, sent forth to sought out the traitor
Upon winged beast he rides through the barren wasteland
Ever watchful eye on the hunt for the rebel
And the sorry being was found, cowering ‘neath the rocks.
The Dark Master himself attended to
The sacrifice of the rebel-lord, and the corpse of his being
Left out in the open for the carrion-birds
The elegant remains of grisly justice.
And so it begins, the mysterious cycle
Of hatred and vengeance upon the kingdom.
The Dark One gracefully eliminating them,
They who try to question his terrible Power.
In the darkest hour, He attains the zenith of his ferocity
And in that hour, one arises against him, one he cannot destroy
One who defies everything He stands for, one who brings hope
That vile promise of a better world, now rampant in his rule.
He seeks to destroy this mortal, a weak and puny smite under his rule
But for reasons arcane and beyond His control
Try as He may, the ****** mortal lies beyond his savage grasp.
And so, He calls upon the Dark Gods of His sacrifice
To bestow upon Him the Might of the Feral.
His invocation rings repercussion through the desert
As they descend upon Him, honouring His ****** sacrifice
He lies broken upon the Altar of the Elders
His flesh torn from his being, in mockery of his offering.
They descend upon him, feeding off his Lifeforce
As they reduce their Mighty Disciple to skin and bone
He finally rests upon wet sands, His savagely torn torso
The terrible remains of the Last Boon of His Gods.
The irony hangs heavy in the air as
The One that brought about the end of the Mighty Emperor
Throws his Offering upon the Altar
Pledging eternal allegiance and servitude to the Dark Gods…
And so it begins again, the old arcane circle
Of jealousy, rebellion, ****** and power
And so it has been, and always shall be
As the Masters of Chaos decide our fate
And they laugh…
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 10:52 PM UTC
The Ever first creature to walk his land
Single greatest being of His empire
And his mighty subjects bring tidings to him
Tidings of valiant rebellion against his dark brutality.
The General of His Forces, sent forth to sought out the traitor
Upon winged beast he rides through the barren wasteland
Ever watchful eye on the hunt for the rebel
And the sorry being was found, cowering ‘neath the rocks.
The Dark Master himself attended to
The sacrifice of the rebel-lord, and the corpse of his being
Left out in the open for the carrion-birds
The elegant remains of grisly justice.
And so it begins, the mysterious cycle
Of hatred and vengeance upon the kingdom.
The Dark One gracefully eliminating them,
They who try to question his terrible Power.
In the darkest hour, He attains the zenith of his ferocity
And in that hour, one arises against him, one he cannot destroy
One who defies everything He stands for, one who brings hope
That vile promise of a better world, now rampant in his rule.
He seeks to destroy this mortal, a weak and puny smite under his rule
But for reasons arcane and beyond His control
Try as He may, the ****** mortal lies beyond his savage grasp.
And so, He calls upon the Dark Gods of His sacrifice
To bestow upon Him the Might of the Feral.
His invocation rings repercussion through the desert
As they descend upon Him, honouring His ****** sacrifice
He lies broken upon the Altar of the Elders
His flesh torn from his being, in mockery of his offering.
They descend upon him, feeding off his Lifeforce
As they reduce their Mighty Disciple to skin and bone
He finally rests upon wet sands, His savagely torn torso
The terrible remains of the Last Boon of His Gods.
The irony hangs heavy in the air as
The One that brought about the end of the Mighty Emperor
Throws his Offering upon the Altar
Pledging eternal allegiance and servitude to the Dark Gods…
And so it begins again, the old arcane circle
Of jealousy, rebellion, ****** and power
And so it has been, and always shall be
As the Masters of Chaos decide our fate
And they laugh…
Request permission to use this poem