The Midnight Saga - Chapter I - The Beginning of the Quest
[prince]: I, the nocturnal prince, summon thee
midnight warrior to tie the repugnant plague
and ne'er come back and thou arn't triumphant
else I send thee to thy sepulchre with grant
[warrior]: thou art my sovereign lord and prince,
with no woe i redeem my soul to thee and hence
neither shalt fear nor pain within my depth
prevail, life is precious and so is death...
[prince]: as the dawn hits the horizon afar, thou shalt
hurl across the oceans and the mountains of malt
the crown of triumph thou will bring
shalt be thy saviour and my precious wing
[warrior]: with my sword and entity i vow
returning back victorious! Ho
and the warrior stroke his hand and took his vow
shalt he return back or shalt he?! O' no
through the lonesome mountains he marchs with no fear
tearing the ground by the strikes of his feet
he was clad in green and silver holding his staff
an axe was held to his waist, a sword about his back
his golden helmet shimmered and glimmered,
as the shafts of the sun flared upon it
seven leages are now behind afar from the kingdom
the warrior stopped and looked back
waver he is, girt in confusion and tranquillity
yearning for his warm bed and crimson wine
his beast neighed, as if he's alarming him to move on
he patted on his horse's neck and sighed
the wind blew swiftly and the sun's beams arose
he felt sick, yet he was keen and sturdy
still staring back at the ancinet burg in silence,
trying to absorb as much power as he could
from the air around, breathing holding it in
for it shall bestow him power in his long journey
he grasped his sword-hilt, streched forth his sword
out of it's sheath and held it high his proud head
merrily spoke words of his tongue in clamor
his eyes glistened as he sang long
"I long to thee, I miss thee now
I miss thee thither and I bow!
With courage and valor I vow
to cleave mine way ahead
through the mounts of the dead
and the coombs, across the mud
no fear shall overtake the soul
nor foul nights and things that crawl
I, vow, to not retreat or fall!
Revel my king's bid with my sword,
axe, beast, dagger and cord
no fear, I shall say, my Lord!
I summon thine power ye above
creators of the hate and the love
to cleanse me and set me off
to the path ahead, for it's cark,
weary, mysterious and dark
cleanse my peril and leave no mark!
I will march across the sheer montains
of narrow brinks and hoary summits
hewn the peril of the beasts
I will be the throb of the earth's heart,
spill my blood and shall call it art!
A black bough that was once burnt
will be put again on the flames of hate
ignite myself for it's my fate,
and burst 'ere the peril, 'ere it's too late"
in no time, the warrior ran his beast like a wind
he fleet with the air down in the stoney basins afar
a beginning of a journy unknown to his soul
sage and keen, he is, that shan't stop ever.
