So Denis had posted the following in the general chat today on discord.

Crimson dreams with consciousness streams,
the Leper King is crowned.

Crimson dreams with consciousness screams,
the empire of men are bound.

Crimson dreams with consciousness beams,
the white knight is found.

Crimson dreams with consciousness seams,
the world is unwound.

This is an excerpt from "At the Spine of the Dead Dreamer" and is a hint of things to come

Shortly after i read that, I figured i could respond to it and crafted out this one....

Cursed dreams, with cursed screams,
The wound the blade had brought.

A board, a game, of mortal claim,
Two lords a battle fought.

Of death, and change, those stars arranged.
Lords' master wanted ought.**

These seven suns, this Islirith,***
He had heard of naught.

To sage and priest the white knight went,
To cleanse the blade he caught.*

They prayed, they plead, in dire need.
Though, the blade had earned his spot.****

*(was formerly fought, but changing it helps reduce re-usage of same last word)
** (was formerly - Lords' master it did want.)
***(was formerly - seven suns, Islirith)
****(formerly "in the end it mattered not" - added though, then revised to the new line)
*****(Added title)

Here is what I wrote before all the revisions.

Cursed dream, with cursed screams
The wound the blade had brought.

A board, a game, of mortal claim.
two lord battle fought.

Of death, and change, those stars arranged.
Lords master it did want.

Seven suns, Islirith,
He had heard of naught.

To sage and priest the white knight went.
to clense the blade he fought.

They prayed, they pleed, in dire need.
It would matter not.
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What started Dritor's lust for power, and Raesha's lust for battle, an encounter with ... s̸̡̲̩̬͈̦̆̓̌̅̐̚ỏ̶̢̨͙̬̙̠͈̳̰̼͍̦̟͍̇̇̍̀̉̌͐̚ͅm̴̛͎͈̰̮͍̪̙̳̳̣̼̗̅̏̀͌̍͋̃͗ͅḛ̶̡̛̛̼̠̣͓̰͎̳̭̓́̂̾̀͠ṯ̶̆͆̒̎̎̽̾̈́̈́͐͝h̷̛̤̜̫̙͎̼̦̖͇̝̦̆̅̈́͆̈́̚͘͜ͅį̸̛̲̟̜̭͖̯̣̩͕̰̖̎̈̂̎͋̉͂̑̔̇̚̚n̵̺̼͚͙͕̱͑̈́̇̓̐̊͊̇̇̍̉̍͛̚̕͠ğ̵̨̧̨̨̡̱͉͚͕̟̮̭͖͚̓̈̋̈́̈́̌̐͌͊̏

Glowing eyes

All that haunt them

Are glowing pinpricks

From when they disturbed

The tomb locked in ice

Searching for a gem

Lost to the lyrics

Of the town elders overheard

In youthful arrogance

They did not stand a chance

All they could do was run

Nevermore would they

Return to the tomb

Where they nearly

Found their end


Until their truest end​
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Their adult lives... and its ending.

She was taught how to heal

He was taught how to fight​

She taught him the secrets

He taught her the ways​

To rule the battlefield was her passion

To know the universe was his goal​

We will share in this, they promised​

Yet one broke it all​

She learned the battlefield

He learned the universe​

She knew what her emotions were

He knew what his emotions should be​

She learned them in the blood soaked fields

He learned of them in the deepest labs​

To rise above them was their goal

But to do that they’d need to know

How each and every emotion felt​

And so he taught her the deepest betrayal

And so he taught himself the highest pride​

She trusts no one now, no more

He never did such foolishness​
Into the Night

What is red,
With death's wings on fire flight,
Streaking into the bleak obsidian night.
Dressed in Skin

Dressed in skin to please the devil.

You hunt the world in painted revel.

Run the trusting to the ground.

I need you! I need you! As pain makes its sound.
Smell of Crimson Death

The door is shut.
Sprayed wet in the dark.
Someone's screaming.
Please make it stop,

Dripping hot, sticky wet.
Empty silence,
Inside and out of my head.
The sound of ripping
Washed in pale light.

Sitting in a pool of hot, wet.
Like a crimson carpet on the ground.
Bodies, silent and staring.
Everything before empty in my mind, painted with blood.
Hark Into the Dark

Hark into the dark.
Like a kiss,
A whispered song in your ear,
An ecstatic lover welcoming you home.

Fall into the night,
For none ever escape it,
Shadows at the walls,
Lights that catch the alleys.

Welcome the unlit,
For it welcomes you,

For it hungers for you,

A whispered song in your ear,
A soft kiss upon your neck,



Welcome the blackness,
For it welcomes you....
Whisper If You Can

Memories whisper why,
Down deep in this bottle,
Alcohol soaked dreams care not to murmur.

Memories of ages deep.

Haze of my delirium,
And in my heart I find little bits of obsidium.

For what am I and what are they twofold.
Wilting of the Nightshade

Would you pick a rose or a wilting nightshade?
Wilt, a sign that the flower is dying.
Limp, the depression of the flower world.
Soon the night will come where it will disappear...
And, then, as is it lay dying, alone, lonely,
All the flowers will look out into the sun.
The light having vanished in the grass,
Wilting petals fall like counting numbers,
The last hour running thin,
With each falling petal to mark the decline.
Terror Renewed From Below

Curled horns, the thing had curled horns!

It arose from that foul swamp like a fly to shit!

It arose with such presence that the very sight made me scream!

Then it looked to me, where eyes should be to see, but yes it looked to me!

What courage can a man muster when hell itself rises from the mirth!

My legs like noodles were not soon to fall away!

Every sight, every thought, everything, came to me in twirling agony, in repetitive terror, in wrenching abysmal horror!

It moved the way no, nothing, no thing should move, siraling, spurling, no human word could give it proper!

It came dripping, oozing that ungodly muck of the timeless bog!

It had no mouth, by god, it had no mouth!

Oh, the silence, the sinister, innocent, laughable, quiet!

It would inflict untold horror, agony, consumption, torture untold!

Oh but why, why does it exist, why me?

Then it did something worst of loved me....
Time of the Night

Dark of the moon,

Dark are the silhouettes all around,

Dark is the light that screams to be found,

Dark is the never-after-more....

Warped reflections garnish here,

Livid hoots and howls,

All for the creatures that thirst to prowl,

Dark is the never-after-more....

Ivory is the final death,

Where everything releshes the thoughts of fear,

This is the supernatural realm of blight and tears,

Dark for the never-after-more, more for the never after....
You look,
You wonder,
You ask me why,

You cannot understand with empty eyes.

You act,
You are,
You normalize,

You, of wealth and woe.

You, the master of hypnotize.

You, the normal one....

You come to me like a warm breeze in the icy winter.
And, what a winter I have made for this, O' mortal coil.
Now upon me do I hear the bells into this ashen time?
Upon me! I swear I did not falter to hear the angelic jingle of bells.
Upon me! Of such bells, such as I heard, to cause this warmth into my bruised chest.
Upon me! O' woe upon me, if such honey sounds prove false to my hopeful ears.
What meaning shall I succumb then, to have proven so wrong in this song to have pierced through my chest?
What upon your word would you find in such fallen hope?
How upon your life would you sum up the sheer feeling of joy to suddenly fade from perspective like a rose withering in this my winter?
A life time of rose petals burned in winters grasp.
But what of the bells out in this blanket of snow?
Out in this frigid wasteland, where every fallen footstep is counted for, for a time.
You come to me! You come to me! Now but why do you run from me and lead me out into the wide open emptiness.
Shall I recount the passing seasons in this dead zone?
O' now shall I forsworn the bitter fallen snow.

As I lead on without will or reason to the phantasm of my dearly departed love.
By what witching fugue or supernatural power have I spied you again.
Where first I found horror and hope to see you outside my bedroom window beckoning me onward.
Now I begin to question my sanity at this fallacy.
By what want of what god, to be so cruel a temptress of the dead.
What shepherd becomes a necromancer?
What trick is this to see, my Lilian, in all her former substance, to run before me with a smile just out of reach.
Why do I follow on to some destination of eldritch doom.
O' but my lovely lost Lilian.
How but for a moment I would hold you in my arms.
No more do the twists and turns prevent my squinted eyes from seeing you, and on you run ahead of me, bare foot in the snow.
This pounding chest is heavy in sight of your supple back and crystalline tears begin to slip down my cheeks.
What is the sanguine dress you bare?
On what face of the Earth do you lead me?
Why do you seek to the trees now?
My legs grow weary and I can feel them faltering.
I must push on for just one more moment with you, just one more time, just once more for the roses that wither too soon.

I follow further and shout out, "Wait!" It is then my lungs begin to seize.
But into the dark forest you plunge.
Well I have come too far in my frenzy now!
Whatever enchantment I have found, let it not falter before I reach you.
Then into the forest I found myself.
Into the dead silence, I saw you not.
Somewhere between rage and anxiety I found myself.
With what well of energy I had I scattered into the roil of my lovely Lilian.
Tears are becoming my only salvation for my lost love.
In the final exhaustion I let loose a mad bellow of, "Where are you?"
Silence to my reunion.
Silence to my thoughts.
Terrible, dreadful, silence upon me.
What of this!
What to be!
Why to this hopeless adventure.
I fell to my knees, hopeless, silent, alone.

Then came the snow.

Then I looked up and saw your face.
Only...this dress you wear is proven false.
Decay and blood....
Your face is marred.
Feelings of love fester into revulsion.
The horror!
The horror!
The horror!
Her broken jaw opens and ripped flesh contorts, "You betrayed me."
"No! No! You died! I had to move on."
"You betrayed me!" She says in a deeper more sinister whisper.
Oh my god!
Upon me! Doom! Doom! Doom upon me!
Subtle Silent Creeping

Subtle silent creeping stalkers,
They rise from soil weeds,
Green and lush and spreading fast,
Arms rising up to sunlight to moonlight,
Only to die and be reborn,
But what of it?
The Dance

Dance the night,
Dance the moon,
Dance the strings of olden swoon.

Dance with her that nubile friend,
Take her under the fog bank bend.

Trickle crimson stains the ground,
As comes the harp-like ecstactic sound.

Dance the night,
Dance the dead,
Dance 'top crypts as they moan in bed.

Lead thy lust towards the flesh,
As covetous,
As hunger,
As passion make the mess.

Dance the way into the night,

Until all dancing, it is done,

Until the bat streaks 'way from the sun.
Before Me

Before my eyes,
I saw...I saw....

Before my ears,
I heard...I heard....

Before my tongue,
I tasted...I tasted....

Before my touch,
I felt...I felt....

Before my feelings,
I fell into despair....

Before my soul,
I was left bare under a piercing presence....

Then all was struck down,
Down...down...down...down into darkness...forever!
Meat Collector

I am the meat collector.
I only collect at night.
I am the meat collecter.
I keep the gates locked tight.
Dance of Midnight

Let us sing
The dance.
The dance of midnight.

Rivist the dream,
You yearn so well.
Reveal your plumed gate.
As dark in hell.

Court the eldritch
Elder dire.

Sing harsh songs
From the mire.

Wane in wonder,
O' dance on high.

Dance with old things
From the skies.

Midnight now fades too fast.

As madness starts
Its course at last.
A collection of poems used by the village elders to describe where danger lies, and where treasure is rumoured...

This was written after an afterparty, so I was very, very tired.

On the hill stands a gallows
Where the old man still wallows
In his grief the water is like the shallows

The pond where the dead gather
Where the living stretch farther
The rations they gather

The nearby fort has fallen ill
So the walking collect their kill
To bring to where the dead run their still

In the hidden cave
Was searched by every knave
And knight in order to stave

Off their hunger and found
Hidden deep in the underground
Shining atop an enormous mound

A gem of greatest purity
Piercing through every veil of obscurity
To seek the truths hidden for security

In the nearby village
Long ago looted of anything to pillage
A town fed by the spillage

Of the still that brews a brew
For the dead and living to stew
Who is in the latest new

Everyone knows where is safe
What to let live and what to strafe
There will always be those who chafe

Under restrictions for their own
Wellbeing given by those who have grown
Up with the legends from the zone​
A fun song that tells the legend of the dead men's still, mentioned in the rhymes taught by the elders. There is a history there...

Outside the village lived a family of five
Everyone knew, they’d live there for life
The Father and Mother,
Two Sons and a Daughter

When the youngest son was crying,
or so the daughter had said
She did the logical thing,
And smothered him in his bed

And so…
The Dead. Man’s. Still.
Is brewing again
It’s brewing its swill
And the family of four
will eat their fill

The daughter had dropped the soldiers
Or that was what the son had thought
He then did the logical thing
And brother and sister fought

And so…
The Dead. Man’s. Still.
Is brewing again
It’s brewing its swill
And the family of three
will eat their fill

The mother discovered a hair in her soup
Or something had tipped her off
She then did the logical thing
And the son was pushed down from the loft

And so…
The Dead. Man’s. Still.
Is brewing again
It’s brewing its swill
And the family of two
will eat their fill

The father asked what happened to his son
Because he needed his heir
He then did the logical thing
And the mother became the town’s fare

And so…
The Dead. Man’s. Still.
Is brewing again
It’s brewing its swill
And the father of none
Will eat his fill

The village found out
They saw the smoke
They then did the logical thing
Because they were good folk

And so…
The Dead. Man’s. Still.
Is brewing again
It’s brewing its swill
And the family will make sure
The village eats their fill​