Inner Sea

In the deep darkness of the Inner Sea,
Where light is scarce, save from the lantern fish,
Below the dolphins, princes leaping free
To whom to frolic is the only wish:

The water cold can crush men like a vice,
And swiftest currents drag one to their death:
Bones break: skin shivers, liquid cold as ice,
And lungs expel their last enchanted breath.

Yet in this world of pain and misery,
Life blooms beyond the sight of one's mere eyes:
A plethora of hope and mystery,
To rival that beneath the open skies.

So praise the ocean and its coldest deep,
The loving cradle, tomb in which to sleep.

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Glomdoring

Beneath the boughs of twisted Glomdoring,
Where Wyrd has come to twist and torture life,
No river flows, nor is there any spring
Untarnish'd by the never-ending strife.

Dark are the trees when wholesome water's naught,
And grimly do their branches search the sky:
With evil is that heinous woodland fraught:
A place where living things do go to die.

But deep within this forest of the dark,
Hope lies untouch'd beneath the dusty earth:
A spring unsprung that is but the first spark
To light the forest with a pure rebirth.

As long as there is hope within the night,
Darkness will never extinguish the light.

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Battle

Upon the darken'd cosmic plane of Nil
A white soldier seeks to combat the dark:
Tahto staff gripp'd to ward off foes evil,
The contrast with the demon-kind is stark.

Then, in a flash, an enemy appears,
And strikes out with a sinuous barb'd tail:
White light dismiss'd, the Magnagoran sneers,
The robed monk lies shivering and pale.

But suddenly, with a heroic leap,
And hard strike true unto his foes bare breast,
The staff explodes through bone and organ deep,
Shredding the remnants of the dead foe's chest.

Thus we learn of the true sin of pride,
And why in combat, time it pays to bard.

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I'xiia Asylum

Darkness plagues the halls of the asylum,
As gas lamps flicker 'fore their light is quench'd;
The wails and screams of mugwumps stricken dump
Compound the taste of blood, its acrid stench.

Within this fortress nestl'd in the Teeth,
Few dare wander, lest Sun bid them farewell;
Tales of pain and woe beg of one's belief,
'Til one sees and tastes the waste, and the smell.

Hopelessly the inmates pay for rescue,
While down below the doctors work their art;
And nurses concoct demon-worthy brew
To build an army, soulless, lacking heart.

For while the place lies beyond moral scope
Blacker still's the Destroyer of Hope.