Writings of HateSlow descentInto the bowels of hellThe light fading signaledBy the slow tolling bellFalling fartherInto the devil's embraceAsking what futureYou are doomed to faceA slow rolling sadnessOver your clouded mindSearching for answersYou will never findWhy did she leaveAnd force me to beA monster insideWhy can't she see?This shattered heartThe hurt bred the painAs she left meIn the slow falling rainI fall with the rainTo the endless pitOf this pitch blackened soulOn the floor I hitAwakened to knowingOf smoldering rageStill written uponMy inner mind's pageBlood slowly dripsFrom the blade in my handAs glazing eyes stareFrom below her headbandWith sanity goneAnd no end in sightI wander awayInto darkening night
Fruitless EffortsI cannot take thisI swing, but I missCan't step forwardCan't go towardLife's inescapableUtterly uncontrollableHeaven's punishmentWrath and judgementCrushed by hateHeld by fateThe future grabsThe past stabsAssault my sanityInvulnerable enemyConstant pressureNo refresherLost in the tideUnable to hideI give upOnly a pupIn life's gameStuck in a frameSomeone helpThis powerless whelp
Chapter 1: A Strange FriendChapter 1: A Strange FriendRictolm looked up into the sky. It was high noon, and his gourd of fresh water had run dry long ago."Great...", he mumbled to himself, "Why is my luck so horrible?"He continued onward through the blazing desert, unused to the dry, arid climate of this desolate wasteland. Nothing like the lusch jungles of his home. He sighed as he trudged over the most recent of many large sand dunes. As he climbed over the top, Rictolm spotted a village. It looked as if it was molded right up from the sand, and he first thought that it was simply a mirage. However, he had to be certain.He raced down the embankment as fast as he could without falling, praying that the village, if there was one, was rich with precious, life-giving water. The image solidified and he raced harder to reach the small city. Few people were out at such a scorching time of day, so Rictolm had no trouble locating the well. He threw the bucket in, and pulled it up just as quickly. He grabbed the buc
Rictolm's BackgroundThis is Rictolm's story.Rictolm, a Pandaren of ninety, has seen much. He lives in a world of fantasy, a realm of magic, mystical creatures, and odd forces that control the fate of the future.Let's start at the beginning.Rictolm was born in the Pandaren village of Ralshalanak. Only 5 Pandaren villages exist. At the beginning of time, at least to the Pandarens, twenty villages existed, built to protect the seals of the Ancient Dragons that preside over this world. These seals were put into place to restrain a great, dark power, a power that the Dragons could not defeat, and therefore locked away for all time. If unleashed, this power would bring doom upon the universe and its inhabitants, throwing time itself into an eternal age of darkness. This power is also known as the Great Lord of the Dark, but has many nicknames, such as Sightblinder and Leafblighter. Over time, the forces of the Great Lord of the Dark have taken
The Twinkling Eyes of the SkyLooking down,Ever watchful.The eyes of heaven peer upon the world.Scan the town,Silently blissful,While the clouds dance in spires twirled.Endless black,Dotted with light,Cover the cosmos's violent enigma.Celestial attack,Burning flight,Cratering the world with a molten stigma.People die,A hellish pyre,The celestial gods have deemed them unworthy.Ending nigh,A smoking spire,The Earth energy fades and becomes filthy.A violent explosion,The end of days,The sentient realm is gone for eternity.A sudden implosion,The black hole phase,The cosmos will never have equilibrity.
Inner RageSwirling faces, laughing at me,Never noticing the pain they cause.Ever laughing, when will they see?This rage building will give them pause.Pushed and shoved down endless halls,The faces continue to shed their hate.Twisted figures on disfigured walls,Showing the despair the faces create.A room of mirrors shows fear and pain,Never hiding their terrified picture.The mirrors shatter in a bladed rain,The apocalypse, as told in scripture.The anger morphed to death and destruction,Leaving a desolate land in its wake.The pain creates a bloody eruption,Adding to the souls it shall take.In the end, the pain subsides,Consciousness returns to my eyes.In my heart the pain resides,Ready to smite unlawful lies.There is no remorse for those who died,The hatred overriding guilt and despair.Venting rage I cannot hide,Ever more victims my rage will snare.My empty shell is left to rot,The prophetic deed has been done.My hollow mind is bent and shot,My spirit rising to the blazi
The Shattered Skies of HeavenAngels take flight on broken wingsReady to face what the future bringsThe demons of hell march to the gatesPrepared to face their imminent fatesThe battle is joined, war cries ring outLight and dark forces scream and shoutThe sound of metal sings in the airBursts of flame singe flesh and hairMany are lost in the oncoming tideMany are wounded, more have diedSent to limbo, trapped are their soulsLost inside the AEther's foldsClaws and swords rend through boneScrabbling to claim the creator's throneThe battle rages for a whole decadeNeither side tiring from the endless raidOnly a handful continue to fightThe battle that started one infamous nightThe ground of Heaven is stained with bloodAnd the scorched flesh of the Devil's floodAs the last angel falls, the world goes muteSlain by the evilest, ugliest bruteA flash of light and the world vanishedTemporal reality utterly banishedThe world as it was no longer existsBlinked out of life like the morning's mist