Bard of the Hell-Bent Ages

Hell is not far away Time’s toll rings loud The weak will rise The ill will rise The fools will rise The dead will rise Hear, hear the sound of crushing chaos Your empire awaits let no evil betide you The enemies are far away and most of them have perished The day is seized and peace restored So you can rest on your throne of ash On your throne of ash Endeavors of the devil, or God’s wanton ‘bandon? Ideals warped disarray, the price colossal dread A pawn across the board, and now you’ve lost the game The final curtains down, and now the blameless fall Drifting Aimless and disheveled Attempting to conjure hope Leaving chaos in the wake The power you held To make things right And now you’re too weak? What a shame… The weak will rise The ill will rise The fools will rise The dead will rise

Submitted by Dahmers Fridge — Apr 25, 2025