In the barren desert of the None,
Stood a fragile rose in the sun.
In the distance I saw its glow,
In its beauty that I know,
I see a hope left all alone
Surrounded by the heartless stone
And sand so hard it will not bend,
Yet I will tend to thee until the end.
Carmine mist plays off the darkened waves
As mans’ haunts rise from their sunken graves.
Festering corpses broached the dark water
Seeking out a ship to commence their slaughter.
Mages emit spells over the crashing seas
Realisation strikes as they meet death’s disease
Blood chokes their throats as they try to shriek.
Their magic cut off with their ability to speak.
A rain of bolts shower from soldiers’ crossbows
Piercing the dead flesh of the unvanquishable foes.
Terror sets in as their fate becomes known.
Tears mingle with water, soaked to the bone.
A maelstrom forms and tosses the horrors aboard
Warriors of Right whimper at Evil’s horde.
Rot caressed the deck, the swords cut in.
Far too close, they can see the demons’ grin.
The the vile carcasses bathe in their gore,
As the massacred vessel drifts in to shore.
A village lays peacefully upon the strand
The leader of the curséd dead raised his hand.
A slight flick of his wrist and its in flame.
The thirsty conflagration but a mere game.
Men up in arms, face their own regret.
The village’s deaths fulfilled their final debt.