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𝐀 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐥-𝐊𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐫. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐡𝐞𝐟𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞.
╔═════════════════════════════════════════╡⧗╞═════════════════════════════════════════╗
Once there was Sig'Vyl Al-Buthara, a Sultan so bold
Who fled from his people and left them out in the cold.
A coward, a wretch who abandoned his throne
Yet now he returns to claim it as his own.
Did you fight for it, Sultan? Did you bleed, did you toil?
No, you came crawling like a leech through the soil.
You left them to suffer and rot in despair
Only for you to now sit high, pretending you care.
But what is a leader who runs from his fight?
Here's the answer: A snake in fine robes, a fraud bathed in celestial light.
War, you declare? As if it is yours?
A reckless boy playing with others' swords.
You throw men to slaughter, while you sit and feast
A vulture in silks, a gutless, glutton beast.
Your people will die, your cities will burn
And what will you do? What lesson will you learn?
Nothing.
You will flee, just as before
Leave all behind and slam shut the door.
Sig'Vyl the Coward, the Sultan of Shame
History shall spit at the sound of your name.
· · ──────────────────────────────── · ● · ──────────────────────────────── · ·
Just another Sultan of Sand, so quick to ignite.
Your temper's a wildfire and your rule but a blight.
A tantrum, a stomp and the world must obey
Or else, heads will roll by the end of the day.
Your words are decrees, your will is divine
Yet all know your power is brittle as twine.
You scream of infidels, traitors and foes
Yet shake when the East wind dares to oppose.
A Sultan? A King? No, a child on a throne
Draped in fine silk yet feared and alone.
Strike with your blade, burn all in your path
But steel bends to will and so will your wrath.
Rage, old Sig'Vyl, throw fits in your hall
For in the end, you will crumble and fall.
Empires are built on wisdom and might
Not the fury of a fool who barks in the night.
· · ──────────────────────────────── · ● · ──────────────────────────────── · ·
Sultan, coward, fool wrapped in gold
Your hands clutch a scepter, but it trembles to hold.
A ruler in name, yet a brat in his core
Stomping his feet when he's told no more.
Your Sultanate's a mirage, just dust in the breeze
Your soldiers march not out of love, but to please.
A King? A God? No, a child unweaned
Crying for war like it is milk to be weaned.
You bellow, you rage, you screech and demand
But you piss yourself bloody when met hand to hand.
Your enemies feast, they drink and they cheer
While you seethe in your palace, rotting in fear.
For no blade you wield, no law you command
Will ever forge strength in such cowardly hands.
Rage, old Sultan, throw yourself down
Choke on your fury, on your rust-covered crown.
History shall mark you, but not as the grand
Just another sniveling tyrant, forgotten in sand.
╚═════════════════════════════════════════╡⧗╞═════════════════════════════════════════╝
𝐀 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐥-𝐊𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐫. 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐡𝐞𝐟𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝.
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞.
╔═════════════════════════════════════════╡⧗╞═════════════════════════════════════════╗
Once there was Sig'Vyl Al-Buthara, a Sultan so bold
Who fled from his people and left them out in the cold.
A coward, a wretch who abandoned his throne
Yet now he returns to claim it as his own.
Did you fight for it, Sultan? Did you bleed, did you toil?
No, you came crawling like a leech through the soil.
You left them to suffer and rot in despair
Only for you to now sit high, pretending you care.
But what is a leader who runs from his fight?
Here's the answer: A snake in fine robes, a fraud bathed in celestial light.
War, you declare? As if it is yours?
A reckless boy playing with others' swords.
You throw men to slaughter, while you sit and feast
A vulture in silks, a gutless, glutton beast.
Your people will die, your cities will burn
And what will you do? What lesson will you learn?
Nothing.
You will flee, just as before
Leave all behind and slam shut the door.
Sig'Vyl the Coward, the Sultan of Shame
History shall spit at the sound of your name.
· · ──────────────────────────────── · ● · ──────────────────────────────── · ·
Just another Sultan of Sand, so quick to ignite.
Your temper's a wildfire and your rule but a blight.
A tantrum, a stomp and the world must obey
Or else, heads will roll by the end of the day.
Your words are decrees, your will is divine
Yet all know your power is brittle as twine.
You scream of infidels, traitors and foes
Yet shake when the East wind dares to oppose.
A Sultan? A King? No, a child on a throne
Draped in fine silk yet feared and alone.
Strike with your blade, burn all in your path
But steel bends to will and so will your wrath.
Rage, old Sig'Vyl, throw fits in your hall
For in the end, you will crumble and fall.
Empires are built on wisdom and might
Not the fury of a fool who barks in the night.
· · ──────────────────────────────── · ● · ──────────────────────────────── · ·
Sultan, coward, fool wrapped in gold
Your hands clutch a scepter, but it trembles to hold.
A ruler in name, yet a brat in his core
Stomping his feet when he's told no more.
Your Sultanate's a mirage, just dust in the breeze
Your soldiers march not out of love, but to please.
A King? A God? No, a child unweaned
Crying for war like it is milk to be weaned.
You bellow, you rage, you screech and demand
But you piss yourself bloody when met hand to hand.
Your enemies feast, they drink and they cheer
While you seethe in your palace, rotting in fear.
For no blade you wield, no law you command
Will ever forge strength in such cowardly hands.
Rage, old Sultan, throw yourself down
Choke on your fury, on your rust-covered crown.
History shall mark you, but not as the grand
Just another sniveling tyrant, forgotten in sand.
╚═════════════════════════════════════════╡⧗╞═════════════════════════════════════════╝