14 May 2012
We stand at the lip of night and day; Light and dark come to the fray... The battle echoes back through time A war of words and razored rhyme In frenzied sword and bloodied cry: Good and evil come to die.
We camped in shadow, dipped in fire We danced and drank and rocked the lyre We roared with laughter, food was passed... We lived the night as though the last. When both sides fell to the victor: sleep, Each soldier dreamed of Raven's Deep:
Therein, they say, lies ancient power A font of words pressed in a tower. And who shall claim it? Both will try - It shackles earth and tames the sky. Some other bard may write this part - Who wins and takes The Prize to heart?
For now the armies stir awake The fatal strike or souls to take. The Grey Knight burns astride the line Sable skein, death's valentine. But where does he align his trust? Seductive dark or rough and just?
Opussia's valiant -heed the roar Of your great Cat - The Ignovore, The Master Malkin, The Lexiclaw... The Green-eyed rage at Evil's Door. He rises at the dawning's gold A toothy smile for a new tale told.
The clank of armour, sweat and ash Flex of muscles, practice slash The reek of brimstone, piss and steel Thump of hoof and creak of wheel. Ten thousand poised on grassy ledge Surrounding cliffs of Raven's Edge.
The King of Underworld ascends - His very life and breath offends The goodly ones whose souls he's taking ( except he's bloody ace at baking - Cookies sticky, pastries sweet Will have them begging at his feet.)
A flash of sword and it's begun The Opuss of the Lost and Won! The screams and cries and lust for killing. Mercies noble, hatred chilling... Opussia shakes. Who lives and dies? Which contender takes The Prize?
The Battle: Raven's Edge • Opuss № I