Saturday, February 28, 2015

The Ballad of the Mead King

He rode on a dragon with a flagon in hand
He saw what they've done; destroyed all his land
It filled him with anger and vengeance he sought
He brought out his axe; its iron still hot

He traveled through plains and mountains he climbed
To find those responsible was on his mind
Not moved by cold wind he cut through the mist
Dusk or dawn, just him and the beast

He picked up a trail after dreary, long weeks
His fire still burning the scars on his cheeks
He followed the path, to old ruins it led
He felt their presence, those soon-to-be-dead

Hungry and thirsty but not for the food
He entered the lair like he knew he would
His dragon stood watch and waited for him
It trusted its master, its friend, to the brim

Soon he encountered his wretched old foes
Slain them one by one, made his way through the halls
Axe in full swing; he was a hailstorm, a flood
Soles of his boots soaked in the blood

The innermost chamber remained to be cleared
The leader of traitors there cowered in fear
No use was to beg for mercy at all
For the axe sank deep and split open the skull

All the destruction, the chaos, the screams
It caused the ruins to crumble it seemed
Among falling rubble he dashed toward light
He lept off the ledge, saw his dragon in flight

His glory reignited; his name sung again
He was a hero to the people, true king of his men
Upon the completion of the most glorious of deeds
He retreated with his dragon and drank all the mead

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