Signed in blood with artful flourishes
Your name stands proudly as it glows red
Angry, hot it ignites and consumes the parchment,
Hide of demons once now is but ash,
The riches of Seven Kingdoms are yours,
The armies of darkness you now command,
The Tyrant on the Velvet Throne
Soon will embrace an iron mistress.
Distant laughter is lost in the wind
As ill-omened storms dissipate
And the sun breaks through once more
Only sufficient to dry the blood and rain
Imperceptibly losing luminosity,
In time replaced by silver strands
Of gentle moonlight.
Walking in darkness banished
By dark gifts bestowed,
None see as you the battlefield.
Your cloak whipping in the wind,
New lieutenants stalk not far behind,
The creatures sniff out survivors,
Woe to him that yet draws breath
For their teeth as dull knives
Will slowly slice and chew living flesh,
Your armor untouched radiates a power they fear.
Your soul is polluted
Blackened not by a signature,
Tortured by no tender mercy,
That piece of the Divine
You long ago murdered with avarice and sadism,
Buried under mountains of sin.
Emblazoned with cruel irony on your banner
The charge that mocks peace,
A dove flies above your army of vultures.
When the carnage on the field
Is cleared by ghouls
Your eyes turn West
Driven by revenge you march…
