Page:
Nightsisters
Poetry Contest Description
let's begin a coven
let's do a little supernatural fun. We are going to make an on going fantasy about a coven of thirteen. This will not be a typical coven of witches no no no. We are going to use different types of paranormal threats. Is there a vampire, a werewolf, a succubus, a necromancer... well you get the point.
The first thirteen poets who come up with their own individual coven member will be set in stone. So therefore, I'm going to need twelve brave volunteers to help me come up with characters and after they've been established others will be free to write about our existing characters and add to the story. Sound fun? Let's get cracking.
This is an unending comp to get the creative juices flowing. Come along and bring everyone to help create a mythology.
The first thirteen poets who come up with their own individual coven member will be set in stone. So therefore, I'm going to need twelve brave volunteers to help me come up with characters and after they've been established others will be free to write about our existing characters and add to the story. Sound fun? Let's get cracking.
This is an unending comp to get the creative juices flowing. Come along and bring everyone to help create a mythology.
Miss Morningstar
She was a twisted little sister
Satan's pride and joy
The worm of the apple of his eye
Hellfire burning in her veins
Deathcraft spells liberate
Her to do as she damn well please
Two rose tipped horns adorn her head
And cloven hooves burn grass at her passing
Speak her name in reverence
Little Miss Morningstar
The devil's come at last
Little Miss Morningstar
She was a twisted little sister
Satan's pride and joy
The worm of the apple of his eye
Hellfire burning in her veins
Deathcraft spells liberate
Her to do as she damn well please
Two rose tipped horns adorn her head
And cloven hooves burn grass at her passing
Speak her name in reverence
Little Miss Morningstar
The devil's come at last
Little Miss Morningstar
http://i1317.photobucket.com/albums/t623/curlycue23/photoshop_zpsewz54qjz.png
ELASTRO ATOR’S INCANTATION
Goddess Lilith
I am your daughter
Your avenger and follower
Elastro Ator
I’m a seducer
Of arrogant men
Who like your Adam
Just want to use women
But when they awake
And find that I’ve gone
They'll feel for their balls
And discover the wrong
So in your honor
I’d I make this contribution
Some Russian jerk’s twins
Fresh from this morning’s castration
I cast into the cauldron
In the brew of thirteen
Billions of babies
Freshly gleaned
Now great Lilith
Hear my sisters’ pleas
And bless them with powers
As I beg you to bless me
She lives.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2969992/Married-TV-actor-wakes-testicles-STOLEN-drugged-Russian-bar-attractive-blonde-working-organ-traffickers.html
ELASTRO ATOR’S INCANTATION
Goddess Lilith
I am your daughter
Your avenger and follower
Elastro Ator
I’m a seducer
Of arrogant men
Who like your Adam
Just want to use women
But when they awake
And find that I’ve gone
They'll feel for their balls
And discover the wrong
So in your honor
I’d I make this contribution
Some Russian jerk’s twins
Fresh from this morning’s castration
I cast into the cauldron
In the brew of thirteen
Billions of babies
Freshly gleaned
Now great Lilith
Hear my sisters’ pleas
And bless them with powers
As I beg you to bless me
She lives.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2969992/Married-TV-actor-wakes-testicles-STOLEN-drugged-Russian-bar-attractive-blonde-working-organ-traffickers.html
http://th08.deviantart.net/fs71/200H/i/2013/132/b/5/female_demon_by_balackraven-d650d82.jpg
With eyes that bore
through your very soul,
she smiles.
Hungry and thirsty,
the men lay their blood,
hypnotized.
Fingernails tainted,
black lipstick painted,
the veins that feed her back to life.
Seductively cunning,
from the shadows she masks,
her infernal essence.
Transforming to anything,
is of no task,
no idea of her presence.
Till the mortality is corroded,
with ample breast they are goaded,
a sweet bloodshed to nonexistence.
They kneel before the beast,
in ceremonial death robes,
praising the high priest,
blessing each other in demon blood.
Her smooth translucent skin,
emitting the scent of sirens,
lured perverted men, dine with the temptress.
Unknowingly they dine with the predator,
charmed by the cursed diabolical executor.
Dark Angel
Ark Angel
I'm a demon undisguised
These stupid petty rats with wings should bow when I fly by
No facade of white and silver
Will mask my scarlet wings,
I fly at night, my eyes alight
with dreams of terrible things
Dark Angel
Ark Angel
A coven of shadowy fiends
Chaos is my element
Its better than it seems
When I’m around
things are twisted and cracked
with madness in between
Dark Angel
Ark Angel
Some may disagree
They call me fallen angel
But soon you will see
I’m not falling I’m rising
I will raze the good I see
Dark Angel
Ark Angel
I’m a demon undisguised
At night I fly with shadows
on my imperial scarlet wings
Striking nightmares and fears
in the hearts of the brave
I’m a Dark Angel
A demon undisguised
On scarlet wings of the wicked, I fly
Ark Angel
I'm a demon undisguised
These stupid petty rats with wings should bow when I fly by
No facade of white and silver
Will mask my scarlet wings,
I fly at night, my eyes alight
with dreams of terrible things
Dark Angel
Ark Angel
A coven of shadowy fiends
Chaos is my element
Its better than it seems
When I’m around
things are twisted and cracked
with madness in between
Dark Angel
Ark Angel
Some may disagree
They call me fallen angel
But soon you will see
I’m not falling I’m rising
I will raze the good I see
Dark Angel
Ark Angel
I’m a demon undisguised
At night I fly with shadows
on my imperial scarlet wings
Striking nightmares and fears
in the hearts of the brave
I’m a Dark Angel
A demon undisguised
On scarlet wings of the wicked, I fly
The Leech Mother
http://cdn.obsidianportal.com/assets/24870/The_Hag_2.jpg
She's lived in places not fit for man,
If life is something she's ever had.
Taken, yes so she had possessed
A thousand or more but none she had kept.
Her eyes are blind but still she sees
Through the leech broods her rotting womb still breeds,
Becoming sight and a blood catching vial.
She stirs the cauldron, her recipes vile.
They slither and squirm,
Those toothed bloodthirsty worms,
And come back a sack of corpulence
Full of the necessary ingredients.
Maggots fall from her mouth with a whisper
Into the soup, a magical mixture.
Each containing a spell, their white bodies pop.
From her index and thumb a leech will be dropped.
Her words are like poison so she speaks very little
Corrosive, contagious; her blasphemous spittle
Sizzles her leather clothes, skin hand torn and clipped.
Smelling like the burning children whose skin she wears stitched.
Collecting the stuff to make her hell-broth;
Stirring the stew as the bones boil till soft.
The smell that plumes forth induces a dance in slow motion
As the coven of witches sip from the potion.
http://cdn.obsidianportal.com/assets/24870/The_Hag_2.jpg
She's lived in places not fit for man,
If life is something she's ever had.
Taken, yes so she had possessed
A thousand or more but none she had kept.
Her eyes are blind but still she sees
Through the leech broods her rotting womb still breeds,
Becoming sight and a blood catching vial.
She stirs the cauldron, her recipes vile.
They slither and squirm,
Those toothed bloodthirsty worms,
And come back a sack of corpulence
Full of the necessary ingredients.
Maggots fall from her mouth with a whisper
Into the soup, a magical mixture.
Each containing a spell, their white bodies pop.
From her index and thumb a leech will be dropped.
Her words are like poison so she speaks very little
Corrosive, contagious; her blasphemous spittle
Sizzles her leather clothes, skin hand torn and clipped.
Smelling like the burning children whose skin she wears stitched.
Collecting the stuff to make her hell-broth;
Stirring the stew as the bones boil till soft.
The smell that plumes forth induces a dance in slow motion
As the coven of witches sip from the potion.
- The Angel of Death -
The air is chill as ice, and the night both cold and long,
It doth seem to me that a long age hath come and gone…
I am waiting, so patiently waiting, for my soul's release,
When will the dark messenger come, to bring me peace?
That bright winged angel of soft shadows and gray mists,
Oh, when will my angel come, to offer me her fatal kiss?
The air is chill as ice, and the night both cold and long,
Yet in the darkness, methinks I hear of her lonely song…
It is both inhuman and strange; it seems never to cease,
The shrieking and wailing seem to come from the Abyss,
Could it be my dark angel, come to offer me her fatal kiss?
The night hath grown frosty cold, the air is become chill,
The strange singer is drawing nearer, her voice high and shrill…
The shadows close in around me, like great birds of prey,
The blackness of their wings seems to promise no rising of the day.
I knew that I wouldst never live to see another bright morn,
Now I am certain, for here cometh my angel, like a fearful storm!
I canst hear the rhythmic flapping of her black raven's wings,
The shadows part for her will, and by that power I canst see…
Yet, I have opened mine eyes only to behold terrible things!
She descends to greet me, her smile as beautiful as canst be…
Clothed in robes spun from darkness and from mortal fear.
Yet, for me she doth shed a single bloodily crimson tear…
The night is no longer cold; the air is no longer quite chill,
My dark musician is with me, her voice: no longer high and shrill.
She sings now the honeyed dirge as for a loved one lost to all,
And from her dark yet gentle eyes, a thousand red tears do fall!
She takes me up into her pale, supernaturally strong arms,
And to my angel I am lost, as a maiden to her lover's charms.
Her touch is beyond cold, yet it chills not my dead bones,
The whiteness of that angel's flesh, so luminous and so pure…
Her face is so youthful, yet strong and aged like the stones,
The stones of Cairns, the stones of graves that line every cemetery shore.
Like the sands of the beaches that lie close to some great dark sea,
Like the pebbles in that sand, they doth now seem as to me…
I am most fortunate indeed, for she is not oft this kind to most.
She usually sweeps the soul from the body with her terrible scythe,
That she may steal away with their very spirit's immortal ghost.
She has laid aside her scythe, to be kind this night for me alone,
She has laid aside her terrible scythe, for there is no evil for me to atone.
I learned that day, so surprising to me that only the wicked so pass…
Or: those who hath yet to fulfill their destiny, those of a lesser class.
Her touch is no longer so chill, her flesh is no longer so very cold,
It seems that so much time hath passed, and my flesh feels so old!
I hath not so long to wait, for my immortal soul's final release,
For in the arms of the angel of death, I will be delivered unto peace…
Her pale face and her white hair are now stained with her bloody weeping,
And into my heart, a longing for my Heavenly Home was creeping.
Take me home, sweet angel, for my time hath come at last,
There is naught for me that I should so linger any longer here…
Nothing binds me to the present; nothing binds me to the past.
She moves to kiss me and I am glad, so glad that those lips draw near,
The kiss is like a passionate lover's kiss, and for a moment I feel aflame…
Then, I feel naught save endless bliss, and gone is my body's pain.
She lays my bones down upon the earth, my soul in her arms like a babe,
Her face now the image of a grinning bloody skull, her flesh withered and thin.
Yet with all the love of a mother, she carries me off into mists and shade,
Unto the heights of Heaven: where my eternal existence may truly begin.
Then, scythe in hand she will fly off away into the waiting night,
In search of more souls, that she may escort them beyond mere living sight,
In the service of neither the Darkness of evil, nor goodness’s Light.
The air is chill as ice, and the night both cold and long,
It doth seem to me that a long age hath come and gone…
I am waiting, so patiently waiting, for my soul's release,
When will the dark messenger come, to bring me peace?
That bright winged angel of soft shadows and gray mists,
Oh, when will my angel come, to offer me her fatal kiss?
The air is chill as ice, and the night both cold and long,
Yet in the darkness, methinks I hear of her lonely song…
It is both inhuman and strange; it seems never to cease,
The shrieking and wailing seem to come from the Abyss,
Could it be my dark angel, come to offer me her fatal kiss?
The night hath grown frosty cold, the air is become chill,
The strange singer is drawing nearer, her voice high and shrill…
The shadows close in around me, like great birds of prey,
The blackness of their wings seems to promise no rising of the day.
I knew that I wouldst never live to see another bright morn,
Now I am certain, for here cometh my angel, like a fearful storm!
I canst hear the rhythmic flapping of her black raven's wings,
The shadows part for her will, and by that power I canst see…
Yet, I have opened mine eyes only to behold terrible things!
She descends to greet me, her smile as beautiful as canst be…
Clothed in robes spun from darkness and from mortal fear.
Yet, for me she doth shed a single bloodily crimson tear…
The night is no longer cold; the air is no longer quite chill,
My dark musician is with me, her voice: no longer high and shrill.
She sings now the honeyed dirge as for a loved one lost to all,
And from her dark yet gentle eyes, a thousand red tears do fall!
She takes me up into her pale, supernaturally strong arms,
And to my angel I am lost, as a maiden to her lover's charms.
Her touch is beyond cold, yet it chills not my dead bones,
The whiteness of that angel's flesh, so luminous and so pure…
Her face is so youthful, yet strong and aged like the stones,
The stones of Cairns, the stones of graves that line every cemetery shore.
Like the sands of the beaches that lie close to some great dark sea,
Like the pebbles in that sand, they doth now seem as to me…
I am most fortunate indeed, for she is not oft this kind to most.
She usually sweeps the soul from the body with her terrible scythe,
That she may steal away with their very spirit's immortal ghost.
She has laid aside her scythe, to be kind this night for me alone,
She has laid aside her terrible scythe, for there is no evil for me to atone.
I learned that day, so surprising to me that only the wicked so pass…
Or: those who hath yet to fulfill their destiny, those of a lesser class.
Her touch is no longer so chill, her flesh is no longer so very cold,
It seems that so much time hath passed, and my flesh feels so old!
I hath not so long to wait, for my immortal soul's final release,
For in the arms of the angel of death, I will be delivered unto peace…
Her pale face and her white hair are now stained with her bloody weeping,
And into my heart, a longing for my Heavenly Home was creeping.
Take me home, sweet angel, for my time hath come at last,
There is naught for me that I should so linger any longer here…
Nothing binds me to the present; nothing binds me to the past.
She moves to kiss me and I am glad, so glad that those lips draw near,
The kiss is like a passionate lover's kiss, and for a moment I feel aflame…
Then, I feel naught save endless bliss, and gone is my body's pain.
She lays my bones down upon the earth, my soul in her arms like a babe,
Her face now the image of a grinning bloody skull, her flesh withered and thin.
Yet with all the love of a mother, she carries me off into mists and shade,
Unto the heights of Heaven: where my eternal existence may truly begin.
Then, scythe in hand she will fly off away into the waiting night,
In search of more souls, that she may escort them beyond mere living sight,
In the service of neither the Darkness of evil, nor goodness’s Light.
The tale of Fuldamar, a Nightsister
within the darkness do I reign
within the sphere my mother cursed
within the dome I can never escape
although I travel through the stars
the kingdome of Dathomiri
that once was my Lord's
I, to rule from princess to empress
gone to hands of foreign birthed
thus I in consternation anger vowed
to embrace the darkness of magick
and other powerful enchantment
so the throne of fists be mine again
mother pontificated against evil
for what evil was done evil be used
against the men against the brotherhood
of darkness, I the black sister vow
Teneniel Djo, she wanted peace
as long as the children of Adam lived
they would destroy the stars
and conquer each throne they see
I Fuldamar...resist.
within the darkness do I reign
within the sphere my mother cursed
within the dome I can never escape
although I travel through the stars
the kingdome of Dathomiri
that once was my Lord's
I, to rule from princess to empress
gone to hands of foreign birthed
thus I in consternation anger vowed
to embrace the darkness of magick
and other powerful enchantment
so the throne of fists be mine again
mother pontificated against evil
for what evil was done evil be used
against the men against the brotherhood
of darkness, I the black sister vow
Teneniel Djo, she wanted peace
as long as the children of Adam lived
they would destroy the stars
and conquer each throne they see
I Fuldamar...resist.
Anonymous
Anthologia-ANKOU
As the damp mist rises
In a ring, around the waxing moon
There is not yet one sound
All is but vast air
In my nightless sleep
I hear the stumbling sounds
The songs of the souls
In unknown void of wind
The wounded weep, the tortured rage
Through cadavers, I gently walk
In search for Death
The Rhine Maidens
Are weaving their webs
To capture the last of the sorrow
Incubate it in the bones
And the skulls
I wait for the waters to turn black
Hearing hymns of heathen opus
Cymbals and incantations
Flood
On this sacred of evenings
When moon is
Of Blood
NOTES AND INSPIRATIONS
The music of WARDRUNA
www.wardruna.com
ANKOU- Ankou the King of the dead, and one of the most feared fairies, his task is to collect the souls of the dead and escort them to the land of the dead, accompanied by the loyal subjects.
THE RHINE MAIDENS – The Rhine maidens were ethereal spirits, in the winter they dwelt in lakes and rivers, emerging in the summer. The moods of the nymphs were reflected in the river’s colours, when the nymphs lost their gold the rivers turned black, they cried to the gods for their loss.
As the damp mist rises
In a ring, around the waxing moon
There is not yet one sound
All is but vast air
In my nightless sleep
I hear the stumbling sounds
The songs of the souls
In unknown void of wind
The wounded weep, the tortured rage
Through cadavers, I gently walk
In search for Death
The Rhine Maidens
Are weaving their webs
To capture the last of the sorrow
Incubate it in the bones
And the skulls
I wait for the waters to turn black
Hearing hymns of heathen opus
Cymbals and incantations
Flood
On this sacred of evenings
When moon is
Of Blood
NOTES AND INSPIRATIONS
The music of WARDRUNA
www.wardruna.com
ANKOU- Ankou the King of the dead, and one of the most feared fairies, his task is to collect the souls of the dead and escort them to the land of the dead, accompanied by the loyal subjects.
THE RHINE MAIDENS – The Rhine maidens were ethereal spirits, in the winter they dwelt in lakes and rivers, emerging in the summer. The moods of the nymphs were reflected in the river’s colours, when the nymphs lost their gold the rivers turned black, they cried to the gods for their loss.
Anonymous
Death Dealer #66
I woke up aggravatingly hornier than the night before
mislaid without the sense of prepaid gratification
from that stupid whore now stumbling out the apt. door
Beneath a vehement deluge I thought about that magnificent
Theatre of Incest, the fucking dog barking incessantly down the street
that barmaid with Jell-O for fake tits, that old man who acted like a bitch
all gone, all gone, all gone right where they belong
in that unholiest sanctuary they assume Dante’s Paradiso
I took a hit of the Devil’s blow, read my list, then took a hard piss
in that open cesspool of mouths coupled with the shameless and the breathing
feeding off Catholics who are misleading, Christians who live their lives by Jesus
“Jesus!” what a fucking mess, much less, it is for the best, I guess, if I blessed those
living in some post-idealistic place, not chased by the demon lovers of regret,
ensnared by the demon haters of no mercy; his name is Percy, and he sits
one stool opposite from me, 66 years of pouring tears into his warm beer, then sighing and crying wishing he were dying, dead, gone from this disenchanted place
once called Eden, now called South of Eden, my place, the Death Dealers place,
I show Percy no mercy and he dies swift and just, back to that Eden of lust
where his ancestors thrived before the serpent apocalypse eclipsed with the light like tonight
I woke up aggravatingly hornier than the night before
mislaid without the sense of prepaid gratification
from that stupid whore now stumbling out the apt. door
Beneath a vehement deluge I thought about that magnificent
Theatre of Incest, the fucking dog barking incessantly down the street
that barmaid with Jell-O for fake tits, that old man who acted like a bitch
all gone, all gone, all gone right where they belong
in that unholiest sanctuary they assume Dante’s Paradiso
I took a hit of the Devil’s blow, read my list, then took a hard piss
in that open cesspool of mouths coupled with the shameless and the breathing
feeding off Catholics who are misleading, Christians who live their lives by Jesus
“Jesus!” what a fucking mess, much less, it is for the best, I guess, if I blessed those
living in some post-idealistic place, not chased by the demon lovers of regret,
ensnared by the demon haters of no mercy; his name is Percy, and he sits
one stool opposite from me, 66 years of pouring tears into his warm beer, then sighing and crying wishing he were dying, dead, gone from this disenchanted place
once called Eden, now called South of Eden, my place, the Death Dealers place,
I show Percy no mercy and he dies swift and just, back to that Eden of lust
where his ancestors thrived before the serpent apocalypse eclipsed with the light like tonight
Is this still goin on for the coven... Could not decide between Necromancer, and werewolf, so Combined them into one character... its just a beginning of it really...
Darkly Woven Tales: Necrowolf
"In the Houses of the Fallen, Evil Tormentors lie,
In eternal halls of nameless mountains
Evil Entities Vie" - Excerpt from The Tome of the Fallen;
The Covenant, The 13th Entity;
She, My Eternal love, she was my Gypsy,
A Witch, a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter,
Child of the moon, measures, and wisdom,
My very young and beautiful wife,
And I, I am a practicing student of the arts,
Of all things, Giant and small,
Though admittedly naturally adapt to the darker shadow arts,
We were young arrogant, and out of our league
We had no business coming here,
But; THERE IT WAS
There it was, Right in front of me
Repeatedly waking up to the same horrific nightmare,
Over and over again,
Soon as the dream would end, it started all over again
And she never woke up
She just stayed dreaming, eventually dying of heartbreak
Whatever dreaming spell was cast upon her,
I will never forget,
She stays stuck, dreaming her nightmares, over and over again
To never wake up from, was pure evil
And which in turn,
I, being forced to watch it, chained helpless to defend her,
Has now become my nightmare;
Whatever living terrors her dream was, in those last final moments, I never knew,
She never had a living fear
Its no earthly good for me she said;
Cept for I… She sometimes had a fear of me,
And how I came at her;
No, no I was not always very nice to her,
My anger and rage scared her, and how it transformed me,
the pure strength of what came from me
And what was attracted to it, it followed, the shadow that sometimed followed;
She has even bear witness to watching me, enraged an angered, fade from view to black, a living shadow, standing there,
My eyes upon her, searching for permission, and moving, walking in a ways not human, nor from here,
But deformed and crooked, almost tumbling forward in step,
And what she says came from voice of mouth, was not me nor possible for man to sound,
But was evil in sound, that went right through her,
And I always feared she never forgot it
And that it would come back to haunt me,
Her scream, her Final scream
How could I forget, and last breath drawn out
Such a ghastly attempt for breath
I can’t wake from that nightmare
Her last moments of life were spent dying of fear from me,
AAAHHHH… RRRRR…MNMMM
I don’t think that I will make it, And I shall die of it soon,
But, if she dies beyond return of the scope of my knowledge,,, I will allow it to transform me,
And we will all Die,,, horribly;
As one of the last acts of vengeance;
...
They say after you die, you are still alive, in your head
Tryin to move and call out,
Screaming and crying in fear,
But no one can hear your screams of torment
Your begging for help, and one more last chance of breathe,
But, you’ll hear it,
You’ll hear it all alone in your head,
You can’t breathe nor move,
It is literally a living death,
Not being able to breathe, it was how she feared dying,
Thanks to her sickness,
She Died, consumed by how she feared death,
Shall I live past this night and survive it,
I will call down upon the serpents breathe,
And raise up soul her,
And avenge, Avenge us with all the secrets of the underworlds
Granted me, that I have learned,
```~~~… …~~~```
For in the moon they hang her image up for my eyes to see,
To stay there in torment of me,
Something that I can never touch nor be with again,
Disappearing in the suns rise, when the darken shadows fade
My curse for blasphemy and sin
It moves me to tear and blood flow,,, and I beat fierce with savage howling,
The Necrowolf…shadow wolf, deadwolf, Tormentors, the Cruel Ones, Reapers and Gatherers,
It is known by the many names,
For they were once feared by many tongues,
But believed long recessed, for it is something,
Something, that has not walked this earth since the age of the great old ones
When their offspring proved they were still in the land
Lover of the dead, eater of flesh, Disciples of darkness
The Sorcerers Of the Beast, of wolf and Man,
Children of lesser Gods, The first Knighted, the first dark ones
Darkly Woven Tales: Necrowolf
"In the Houses of the Fallen, Evil Tormentors lie,
In eternal halls of nameless mountains
Evil Entities Vie" - Excerpt from The Tome of the Fallen;
The Covenant, The 13th Entity;
She, My Eternal love, she was my Gypsy,
A Witch, a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter,
Child of the moon, measures, and wisdom,
My very young and beautiful wife,
And I, I am a practicing student of the arts,
Of all things, Giant and small,
Though admittedly naturally adapt to the darker shadow arts,
We were young arrogant, and out of our league
We had no business coming here,
But; THERE IT WAS
There it was, Right in front of me
Repeatedly waking up to the same horrific nightmare,
Over and over again,
Soon as the dream would end, it started all over again
And she never woke up
She just stayed dreaming, eventually dying of heartbreak
Whatever dreaming spell was cast upon her,
I will never forget,
She stays stuck, dreaming her nightmares, over and over again
To never wake up from, was pure evil
And which in turn,
I, being forced to watch it, chained helpless to defend her,
Has now become my nightmare;
Whatever living terrors her dream was, in those last final moments, I never knew,
She never had a living fear
Its no earthly good for me she said;
Cept for I… She sometimes had a fear of me,
And how I came at her;
No, no I was not always very nice to her,
My anger and rage scared her, and how it transformed me,
the pure strength of what came from me
And what was attracted to it, it followed, the shadow that sometimed followed;
She has even bear witness to watching me, enraged an angered, fade from view to black, a living shadow, standing there,
My eyes upon her, searching for permission, and moving, walking in a ways not human, nor from here,
But deformed and crooked, almost tumbling forward in step,
And what she says came from voice of mouth, was not me nor possible for man to sound,
But was evil in sound, that went right through her,
And I always feared she never forgot it
And that it would come back to haunt me,
Her scream, her Final scream
How could I forget, and last breath drawn out
Such a ghastly attempt for breath
I can’t wake from that nightmare
Her last moments of life were spent dying of fear from me,
AAAHHHH… RRRRR…MNMMM
I don’t think that I will make it, And I shall die of it soon,
But, if she dies beyond return of the scope of my knowledge,,, I will allow it to transform me,
And we will all Die,,, horribly;
As one of the last acts of vengeance;
...
They say after you die, you are still alive, in your head
Tryin to move and call out,
Screaming and crying in fear,
But no one can hear your screams of torment
Your begging for help, and one more last chance of breathe,
But, you’ll hear it,
You’ll hear it all alone in your head,
You can’t breathe nor move,
It is literally a living death,
Not being able to breathe, it was how she feared dying,
Thanks to her sickness,
She Died, consumed by how she feared death,
Shall I live past this night and survive it,
I will call down upon the serpents breathe,
And raise up soul her,
And avenge, Avenge us with all the secrets of the underworlds
Granted me, that I have learned,
```~~~… …~~~```
For in the moon they hang her image up for my eyes to see,
To stay there in torment of me,
Something that I can never touch nor be with again,
Disappearing in the suns rise, when the darken shadows fade
My curse for blasphemy and sin
It moves me to tear and blood flow,,, and I beat fierce with savage howling,
The Necrowolf…shadow wolf, deadwolf, Tormentors, the Cruel Ones, Reapers and Gatherers,
It is known by the many names,
For they were once feared by many tongues,
But believed long recessed, for it is something,
Something, that has not walked this earth since the age of the great old ones
When their offspring proved they were still in the land
Lover of the dead, eater of flesh, Disciples of darkness
The Sorcerers Of the Beast, of wolf and Man,
Children of lesser Gods, The first Knighted, the first dark ones
