September 30, 2000
Terrors rise in shadows borne,
And visions of demons dance
Darkness figure bearing horn
Watching as her minions prance.
Death decreed from skull-carved throne
And echoing through palatial ice,
The dark anthems Hell spawn groan
Their lyrics filled with wretched vice.
The stench of death doth permeate
Wicked images of dark dreams
Delusions their visages create,
That conjure lasting human screams.
Xezadha glares down from her chair
At the foolish intruders who dare
To penetrate deep inside her lair
And disturb the chilling frost-filled air.
Their blades singing against each other
Metal clashing everywhere
At the men who call each their brother,
And the fiends who their souls scare.
The blood is spilt, the ice goes red,
Shrieks of death and groans of pain
The bodies of defeated dead
Become the dominant terrain.
The night devil stands up at last,
While causing the cease of mortal breath
Her ring releases icy blast,
Chilling petals from the rose of Death.
A horrid sneer from twisted lips
The athems of praise again rise,
A chalice of blood she smugly sips
Victorious, the Queen of Lies.
And so the mortals quake in fear
At their foe who blights the fields,
The flames that burn their hovels sear
From she who wicked magic wields.
Brimstone smoke curling and ashen red flames
Promote her power to no sure end,
The living suffer in infernal games
As her dark minions cause hope to rend.
Can anything be done at all?
Is there anything that can cease,
To the evil at which heroes fall?
Can you be the one who brings...release?