летописец " Hunting words I sit all night."
And many told him:
Leave behind your dead, to the wind their ashes and their spirits to songs,
Let their bodies rest and their memory go,
For where it takes them no breath, no touch, no presence belongs.

But he refused, he burned his way through the bones and tombs,
He said it was justice to those whom death had wronged.

In his words:
For those who bow to the fear and folly, they should stumble and fall,
And pick their crumbles at the table of rich, where forever they crawl.
But the minds of great shan’t be thralls to the insult of death.

He swore that night to descend beyond and below, for a soul:
And out of abyss, voiceless and dark, he summoned a wraith.

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Хнык -( меня бросила девушка. Теперь мне только и остаётся, что графоманить!

@темы: Нечисть, Iron Book