My king, my king, how was I supposed to know that everyone will falter when you die. And as we speak the army of our enemies is approaching our gates, we cannot fly. Behold, my son, Theres a way to save you all, Dont you despair, dont be petrified. There is an armor, ancient magic made it strong, And you shall wear it when you face the fight. This harness will guide us through dangerous night, It humbles the foe with its grace. The thornmail will help us prevail and survive, Our deadliest fate we embrace. Well done, my son, its the way to save you all, but dont you think the realms been purified. Creatures of darkness are still longing for your fall, Keep them in thrall, its time to smite and ignite. My king, my king, how was I supposed to know that everyone will falter when you die. Son, smite them all!
Posted on: Wed, 07 Jan 2015 20:42:43 +0000
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