Post by RANJIT on Feb 12, 2018 4:46:22 GMT
RANJIT
i am now an instrument of violence
1 am a vessel of invincibility
i cannot leave this undecided
stepping down to battle another day
i can't be told to compromise this
they'll never doubt the body lying at my feet
a most formidable reminder
they will speak my name for eternity
they'll never doubt the body lying at my feet
a most formidable reminder
they will speak my name for eternity
I'M ONE WITH THE WARRIOR INSIDE
Here, a lord lost. Here, a deity decaying. Here, a king crowned of ash and flame and a volcano lies sputtering out guttering flames in decades now long laid to rest. Here, a land unchecked by the weight of father's hand, where the might of seasons lays in ruins - here, a world torn asunder.
"This, what time has forgotten, hellbeast of battletorn plaster, a general worn from war, and with such grace does he move, unhindered by the wroth of age." Reborn in blood has he been, and suckled upon it too, until it has become intertwined to his fate, much akin to this land now suffering from the fleeting capricious games of memory. Inhale does he and so too does the land, rotting lungs swelled to capacity upon volcanic breath, and the taste of ash has smoked 'pon his tongue for decades now.
This valley of his lordship, formerly a landscape feared for the deeds done within, has splintered; a crack has formed to gape an open maw within, and into an abyss have fallen that which had gone untouched by the volcano's molten wroth. Little then; proximity to hell's mountain had promised that scant could be spared. War-torn, the realm herself had sufficed an end, suicide by lava, rendering paradise unto hell, such that naught but the dead-undead might draw breath in her putrid atmosphere again.
words. xx muse. xx notes. xx
download Hitman to view as intended
"This, what time has forgotten, hellbeast of battletorn plaster, a general worn from war, and with such grace does he move, unhindered by the wroth of age." Reborn in blood has he been, and suckled upon it too, until it has become intertwined to his fate, much akin to this land now suffering from the fleeting capricious games of memory. Inhale does he and so too does the land, rotting lungs swelled to capacity upon volcanic breath, and the taste of ash has smoked 'pon his tongue for decades now.
This valley of his lordship, formerly a landscape feared for the deeds done within, has splintered; a crack has formed to gape an open maw within, and into an abyss have fallen that which had gone untouched by the volcano's molten wroth. Little then; proximity to hell's mountain had promised that scant could be spared. War-torn, the realm herself had sufficed an end, suicide by lava, rendering paradise unto hell, such that naught but the dead-undead might draw breath in her putrid atmosphere again.
words. xx muse. xx notes. xx
download Hitman to view as intended