Dirge of Entymos (DURJ of EN-tee-moss)
Song discovered in the Eyrie, in what appeared to be a structure given over to the Yarlem as a kindness. Within was a hidden lair, and within that, a dimensional representation of the tower. IT was in that tower that this document, along with the playing, dolorous melody was discovered.
"Death to tyrants; Death to thee. I would kill thee willingly.
From the moment of thy birth, 'til they bury thee in earth,
This dirge sounds, and others know. The IXL King must surely go."
Entymos, thou foolish man, who against the IXL stand,
chose to alter the Revening's plan.
In destruction of the lands, and corrupting Altan clans
Thou hast left us all alone, and their hive you made your home.
Little else here still remains, your plans locked inside thy brains.
'Mid the Storms, and mid the Rains, upon Nyco's grassy plains
Grundim broken, Men in chains. Still, your legacy remains.
Entymos, the King is slain. Only to begin again.
Entymos upon the hill hopes to find the answer still
Eldrin root, shown weak in will, sheathed in IXL need to kill
The cursed cup refused to spill, meant the bloodlust must cool and chill.
In the spinning well of time, the only dearest loss is mine.
Death to tyrants, Death to thee. Thou has my own enmity.
Though I knew thee fleetingly, and your glory rests on me.
Still, the ending's hard to see. Thus my hatred grows for thee.
Entymos, thy plans are daft. Yet they may be all that's left. (edited)
From the moment of thy birth, 'til they bury thee in earth,
This dirge sounds, and others know. The IXL King must surely go."
Entymos, thou foolish man, who against the IXL stand,
chose to alter the Revening's plan.
In destruction of the lands, and corrupting Altan clans
Thou hast left us all alone, and their hive you made your home.
Little else here still remains, your plans locked inside thy brains.
'Mid the Storms, and mid the Rains, upon Nyco's grassy plains
Grundim broken, Men in chains. Still, your legacy remains.
Entymos, the King is slain. Only to begin again.
Entymos upon the hill hopes to find the answer still
Eldrin root, shown weak in will, sheathed in IXL need to kill
The cursed cup refused to spill, meant the bloodlust must cool and chill.
In the spinning well of time, the only dearest loss is mine.
Death to tyrants, Death to thee. Thou has my own enmity.
Though I knew thee fleetingly, and your glory rests on me.
Still, the ending's hard to see. Thus my hatred grows for thee.
Entymos, thy plans are daft. Yet they may be all that's left. (edited)
