I walked and ground underfoot became spectral, i screamed at the blurring sky, i closed my eyes, i run and the sun sets far to abandon me, into the forest where the horizon cannot find a living soul,
i search him, that these are most the separation of pain and stake, i chasm as a voice, purified by the chosen one, ponder on the pond, the trail leads to this lake of fire unlit, merely fuel, i fear to startle it as i have been dran by a picture of madness and lured by the distant lake to bring from a drop to a mountainous heart, I am the spirit in the cold hunter's fog,
I am clever and on the lake I stand hiding from the mischeif, a spell of death in dark night powers unruly, the poison lake would grant me death and I above it watch the evil fumes, the twisted terrible vapors bend the view of midnight moonlit marsh, i take the vapor vespers in, a hammer hits the lake and I am sunk and thrashing barely grasping as this puddled ground gives way, if you have not seen a swamp burn a viewers eye, to dare to spy, yes it pressures measures leisured sparingly despondent and primpordial correspondents in the etherial air of mischeif and sights of wonton carrion theifs, that if a swamp should not burn before thoust in makings wretch this place, then off ye go with haste apaced, for as wilting forrest masts are moss and stone, this pond becomes a blast alone, damnedestly leigh, so break the forest for the trees am I fire propulsed of course or just a leafe force brutishly,
to fire mends that spirists lash and bones become the kindling ash and soon will throns of trees impale that white flame turns my hands to sails with black flame painting path to fail,
the hunter hurls a mallet forth that meters rhyme my death ignored, and miles of smoggy swampland glow with candled fires and a wave of ire a ring igniting miles and miles of blood and fire for earth and oil, i pull my self to rise with burning oil on my hands and soup=like moss on cloth and feet tht trek I must and cant acete, i reach to pull a star from the sky
my hand is granted not lightning from the sky, not even a breeze from an eagles eye,so I run and muck takes stuck and my fear a pointless rage, the hunter of me is large as three trudges and soon lunges at my soon-to=be-grave, and I no slave throw the earth as a wave and watch the mud rise and fall dry, thus I by the wicked tree and the that which hunteth by the score of the others like me, i dry the soil that soaks beneath step and hurried leap to strick him down, the ancient tree bewildress me as i am thrown itno ist base, and from it i pull every ounce of ash and oil to metal from the roots,
all my fears follwo my breath, the hunter breaks all ribs with one mighty strike, then the other side with another, the ground swells and the hunter stands on it as it rises, he plans to ride it a knee rising and another foot beside it, i am not moving the soils that I can bare see from thru so much deleterious pain of breath and exhaling a beginning exanguination thereof, in this much, the grounds begins to move, and I am not raising the mounds, but I can see a tale of scales and soon eyes of fangs, and by the time I could see bones i ee the wings lined by sharpened blades, the bone fwas from the fire, not a bonedragon, it is a wyvern in a forest of thousands, fastly surrounding even the hunter is lost
a swamp is full of death andd as reverse is of little life, the rising hill jettys a mouth of knives and bites my oppressor's leg, as he kills it thugish and malicely i, have no idea and act as harvester in the smokey field, i take the life of the creature to healmyself before consumed by the dying light, the hunter leaps at me like a bear and i use the bladed wings to force his fears and soon to sheild and with broken lizard limb i spear him, i try to take the life of the hunter without a means to escape, i shuffle and without tussle, his hands as fists as large as my head as horses hooves ashammers haul hatred like a bear at myself and some fire i agic flash and soon to dath,dash from under death a breath insed my rest i leap to a razorblade lizard and attempt to ride, the create fights and i begin to draw it's life,
ii lean forward low and it takes to the sky, the hunter tears a bone from a living lizard and hurls it at my eyes, as i lean the creature rolls a taking spike to the heart and I fall with the blade againnst mine by thread a, I fall on the only boulder belowme, it comes closer, the landscape a firey hellscape develishly devoid of security or sanctity, i land on the only stone in the arena, this world of hurth, the creatures attack the bear as it approaches and he throws them aside gahering a tongue to bite a kneck to snap and a spine to whip and slice me, my bones break from the fall in the wind of cursed dry and unbreathable air with the nauxious sulfure visible and close layering the eyes, i stand in the magic of bright darkness, i open my arms to let the creature take my heart, I draw the life force from every wyvern in the all directions to the length that my powers allow it me, i am reborn of medieval deaths in multiplicity, i lift the thousands of scales from the bodies of the broken beats and send them at serve the termination, each scale with a marking of an eye and by a million eyes peircing stares i the death of a million cuts, the stone becomes molten lawava i leave behind, but i have burnt any landmark for ten miles in a circle, if the sunrise is a shadow i will walk away from the mountain