Distant Wings

By: Ellerya Posted on: November 16, 2011

"You shall feel my vengeance, with all the suff'ring that it brings!"
Shouts the infuriated Lord to a pixie scarred by pricks and stings,
So sure was he of victory, this greatest of the Ember Tower's kings,
And yet come sunset he would be slain by the blade called Distant Wings.

The peaceful pixie now lay still, it had died from the abuse,
Sent here to prevent the war, the conflict to diffuse,
But the Imp Lord was now convinced he could never lose,
And the Pixie Queen would pay, for his proposal she'd refused.

In his quest for vengeance, on which he was hellbent,
The Lord found a bloodcrazed Siren, and to the pixies she was sent,
She burned their village half to the ground, killing as she went,
She left a gruesome massacre, and now their guards were spent.

The Imp Lord's army marched on, certain of victory,
But 'round the bend past Vellis the Imp Lord could see,
A certain black-garbed man, a humble sight was he,
The clothes he wore made it plain; he's poor as can be.

And yet as the Imps marched on he halted their advance,
A hand resting on his sword as he took a battle stance,
The Imps all grinned, for surely the stranger stood no chance,
They raised their flags and lowered their spears to begin the deadly dance.

From the coal black scabbard comes a shining light,
The imps all squeal in terror at the blinding sight,
The gleaming blade swiftly slays the creatures of the night,
For wielded by this black-garbed man is a blade of white.

With a gruesome sucking noise, he cuts down evil things,
It cuts through imp and hellcat with noble metallic rings,
The work is quick and gruesome, oh, but how it sings!
Hear the brilliant harmony sung by Distant Wings!

The Imps all fall back, retreating towards their tower,
The black-garbed man is right behind, on his face a fearsome glower,
The Imps close the door and bar it too, and yet still they cower,
The Imp Lord fears that even this will not stay his righteous power.

With just one blow, the door is gone, in two halves cleanly split,
But the Imp Lord sets his teeth, for defeat he will not admit,
He sends his beast master forward, and with a frightful cracking whip,
The hellcats advance, the whip behind, no retreat shall it permit.

Then shines forth the blade, the hellcats fall, the job done thoroughly,
Then attacks their impish master, and in just one blow dies he,
The black-garbed man ascends to meet an imp grinning evilly,
For what beast cannot slay will instead be solved by alchemy!

A flask of acid strikes his face, but though the potion sears,
The black-garbed man still fights on, unmoved by pain or fear,
He draws again his shining blade, and soon the way is clear,
Forever on the alchemist's face is his final, frozen sneer.

Onward goes the lethal man, smashing through another door,
But now the imps grow wise, and no longer attack by three or four,
All at once they rush with spears set, the man counts a dozen or more,
And when at last the battle ends, not only imp blood is on the floor.

Now finally arrives the man at the throne of his dev'lish foe,
The guards rush forth in a vain attempt to stay the white sword's glow,
Though wounded heavily, the man draws his blade, and slays them in a blow,
Facing his nemesis at last, the conversation he foregoes.

First steps forth the general of the mighty Impish lord,
A dire warrior who resists the blow of the hero's mighty sword,
And now the black-garbed man, suff'ring the wounds of the Ember horde,
Is all but slain by the general, yet his power shan't be ignored.

And now at last, though he barely lives, he fights the tiny devil king,
He draws his blade, the battle is joined, and he feels another sting,
An impish servant's claws have jabbed, and death is what they bring,
The Imp Lord's cackling is silenced by the final stroke of Distant Wings.