SiegV2
Sultan of Anjyarr, Arch-Pyromancer
[!] A shadow slips through the veil of the night, unseen,
Yet fire does not creep, it blazes, serene.
No dagger pressed to sandstone, no whisper in fear,
But a cry in the heavens for all to hear.
Through the blackened sky, on wings of flame,
A phoenix descends, bearing my name.
A streak of gold, a comet bright,
Tearing through Corithiel’s endless night.
Its talons grasp a scroll adorned,
Sealed with the mark of those reborn.
No thief in silence, no shrouded lie,
But truth alight in the open sky.
With a burst of heat, it lands in the square,
Setting the banners to dance in the air.
Guards take pause, nobles recoil,
As fire licks the marbled soil.
Then, as swiftly as it came, it ascends once more,
A beacon departing from legend and lore.
But the words remain, let them be told,
A tale of ash and ember…
Watch the truth unfold. [!]
Lies, deception, deceit are your way,
But in divine judgment, you do not get a say.
You prattle and sneer, yet tremble in fear,
For the tide of war now marches near.
You whisper of cowards, you mock and you jeer,
But your voice shakes, laced with dread and veneer.
Was it I who knelt? Was it I who swayed?
No- I return, and the stars light my blade.
You speak of flight, yet it is you who cowers,
Locked in your towers, counting the hours.
Your walls gleam bright, your spires rise high,
But marble cracks, and stone can die.
Your throne is brittle, your banners are old,
Your hands may clutch silver, but your heart holds no gold.
A house of glass, a court of decay,
Built on deceit, destined to fray.
From the sands of Anjyarr to your ivory halls,
I come for the debt, I heed vengeance’s calls.
You brand me a tyrant, a coward, a blight,
Yet it is your city that shuns the fight.
You feast and drink, you scoff and you boast,
But a fool toasts loudest when he fears for his host.
You call me a vulture, a beast without shame,
Yet who drains the earth and hides behind fame?
You claim wisdom, you claim might,
Yet your swords rust, and your torches lack light.
You speak of power, yet tremble and quail,
A kingdom of silk, doomed to fail.
A brat, a coward, a Sultan of sand?
Yet here I stand, sword in hand.
And where are you, oh lords of the high?
Perched in your towers, waiting to die.
So mock me, curse me, spit at my name,
But none shall rise to douse the flame.
The sands are shifting, the crescent ascends,
And with it, your dominion ends.
So tremble, highborn, bask in your lies,
For the Sultan returns, and your kingdom dies.
Yet fire does not creep, it blazes, serene.
No dagger pressed to sandstone, no whisper in fear,
But a cry in the heavens for all to hear.
Through the blackened sky, on wings of flame,
A phoenix descends, bearing my name.
A streak of gold, a comet bright,
Tearing through Corithiel’s endless night.
Its talons grasp a scroll adorned,
Sealed with the mark of those reborn.
No thief in silence, no shrouded lie,
But truth alight in the open sky.
With a burst of heat, it lands in the square,
Setting the banners to dance in the air.
Guards take pause, nobles recoil,
As fire licks the marbled soil.
Then, as swiftly as it came, it ascends once more,
A beacon departing from legend and lore.
But the words remain, let them be told,
A tale of ash and ember…
Watch the truth unfold. [!]
Lies, deception, deceit are your way,
But in divine judgment, you do not get a say.
You prattle and sneer, yet tremble in fear,
For the tide of war now marches near.
You whisper of cowards, you mock and you jeer,
But your voice shakes, laced with dread and veneer.
Was it I who knelt? Was it I who swayed?
No- I return, and the stars light my blade.
You speak of flight, yet it is you who cowers,
Locked in your towers, counting the hours.
Your walls gleam bright, your spires rise high,
But marble cracks, and stone can die.
Your throne is brittle, your banners are old,
Your hands may clutch silver, but your heart holds no gold.
A house of glass, a court of decay,
Built on deceit, destined to fray.
From the sands of Anjyarr to your ivory halls,
I come for the debt, I heed vengeance’s calls.
You brand me a tyrant, a coward, a blight,
Yet it is your city that shuns the fight.
You feast and drink, you scoff and you boast,
But a fool toasts loudest when he fears for his host.
You call me a vulture, a beast without shame,
Yet who drains the earth and hides behind fame?
You claim wisdom, you claim might,
Yet your swords rust, and your torches lack light.
You speak of power, yet tremble and quail,
A kingdom of silk, doomed to fail.
A brat, a coward, a Sultan of sand?
Yet here I stand, sword in hand.
And where are you, oh lords of the high?
Perched in your towers, waiting to die.
So mock me, curse me, spit at my name,
But none shall rise to douse the flame.
The sands are shifting, the crescent ascends,
And with it, your dominion ends.
So tremble, highborn, bask in your lies,
For the Sultan returns, and your kingdom dies.