The Fiendish Things

For I am old and lonely, child.

My time is growing short.

The fiendish things inside this place

now hunt us for their sport.


For I am tired and weary, child,

of things that chase and bite.

The fiendish things within these walls

pursue us through the night.


Well I am sick of running, child.

I think that I will stay

to fight the fiendish at our backs,

so make your getaway.


I only ask, remember me

as you live out your days,

and never use your magic gift

for learning fiendish ways.


I hear them growing closer, child.

My violent end is nigh.

To die in crimson polyglot’s

a soldier’s way to die.


Now run! Make haste! Go quickly, child.

But first, a kiss farewell.

And don’t look back to see the swarm

of fiendish things from hell.


Alone within the shadowed crypt,

I face the demon horde.

And make my peace with holy gods,

and draw my heathen sword.



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