The Prophecies of the Mourning Sage: Eruantien Aelorothi

[Dagonlives]

Words are scrawled in a notebook by a pristine looking elven wizard, face curled in concentration over a gem he has clutched in his hand..

She dreamed and wept.
Bitterly She slept.

She dreamed of a Crown,
Of elves Dying,
Of a white city's theft
Of demon's in her mind

Of Black-Green Banner flown high,
And blades falling down
like blood red raindrops,
upon pristine white skin

Of dwarven thanes
in Glittering halls of gold
set above rotten stone
Where water became bone.

She dreamed and wept,
and bitterly she slept

[Dagonlives]

He dreams,
Of tomes, written lore,
Of monks of shrouded doom
Who stride upon sands of gold
Cursed to die by steel and sword

He dreams,
Of darkness encroaching
Of evil unbound,
of a giant with a crown
of digits, that writhe in agony
Again, and Again, and Again
But their suffering never ends.

He dreams,
Of ships burning bright,
of corsairs and knights,
Whose Banners cross in red froth
with Green and Black armored men.

He dreams,
but he does not sleep
He weeps for what is to come..

[Dagonlives]

He dreams,

Of dancers caught
In woeful embrace
Blades slashing
Displacing Golden Sand

Of wooden homes
Burning Alight,
Of fires spreading
In the dark mountain air

He dreams of elves falling,
like red petals upon the floor,
from a white city
Painted in gore

He dreams,
but he does not sleep
He weeps for what is to come.