Medievia Mudslinger

June 11, 2000

The Story of My Death - By Baze

I tried to fight a Serpent;
I seem now to have died.
I couldn't even flee,
Though several times I tried.
My sanctuary dropped,
He colour sprayed me blind.
Nowhere could I hide;
No safety could I find.

Laying on the ground
The Necromancer's treat
Once I was a Warrior,
But now I'm merely meat.
His potions set to work,
They run throughout my veins.
An undead corpse am I,
To walk the dying plains

Now new adventures wait,
As I must find the altar.
My own reincarnation,
Requires me not to falter.
The altar must I find
A temple do I need
Or ne'er again will I
Use living eyes to see

Finally, I spy
The gods' own holy place.
The home of holy monks,
In Goodness' holy grace.
Having reached my goal,
I pause, now tired of death.
A prayer to the gods,
To grant me living breath.

Now live do I once more!
Again with friends connected.
In the wake of death,
On dying I've reflected.
And all in all, I guess,
It's small pain to partake.
If nothing else, it's chance
For ten minutes' coffee break!