By: Kyleath Posted on: November 29, 2008
Written in classical Terza Rima. Where memory fades, art flourishes.
All of Sapience heard that scream
That filled their ears with despair
And the world moved as if in a dream.
Death filled that scorching air
Steaming with the dragon's fire
Too much for one city to bear.
Cyrene's state was growing dire,
Blood stained the cobbled streets
As Ainghaeal flew ever higher.
Soon came Achaea's elites
To try and fight the hell-born beast.
Days ended with their defeat.
Warriors traveled from the east
And passing through the city gates,
Was everything: Paladin to priest.
They came from many city-states.
Testing their mortal might
And tempting the wrathful Fates.
The dragon, sensing a fight,
Swept down at a small band.
That was one wild night.
They had no tactics planned.
The bloody carnage soon stacked
And their death was at hand.
But blood dripped from his back
And mixing his blue with red
He fell to the marble step's black.
The embodiment of dread,
The beast of the blood lust,
Only terrorizing the dead.
The marble steps will turn to dust,
But the legacy of that mountain
However must be discussed.
To remember: they built a fountain
To remember all of the lives scarred
To remember the beast of the mountain.
No longer is he the song of bards
Instead are songs of his Nest
And Blu, Cyrene's faithful guard.
Putting our fighters to the test
Ainghaeal's legacy lives again
And crowns our city's best.
Remember well that dragon's mountain
Remember her to the bitter end.