The Lich King (Part 2)

Chapter 2

 

King Taryn stood, appalled, a shift in mood,

Frozen like glue, his men stood stiff.

"We have marched for 50 days, and finally face

Our destination and nobody wants to taste

Her blood?

She slithers in her tower, and now, with our power,

Allow us to take what is rightfully ours,

Devour her soul,

Fear nevermore."

 

The King's vision could not be obscured,

His condition would not be impaired.

Born a mere peasant, he rose through the ranks,

Ascension was pleasant, bespoke with no shame

At the tender age of 12, he knew he was destined to join

The Elven Army following The Genocide of The Great Tree

In the year 1430.

Youngest Head Archer to serve, he impressed,

His departure was sure to see if he deserved this one test.

Standing 7'4" with white hair like ice,

Outstanding before you, a proven champion, thrice.

His brow was furled from plenty of ruling,

Having learned from the Elder Magus,

His sanity slowly un-spooling.

After the Magus was sacrificed by the Queen,

The King vowed to conquer the entire Western Seaboard,

Claiming revenge for what had happened to his Master.

The armor he wore, collected from the Obsidian Mines,

Warned off all who opposed him for obvious reasons.

He also enjoyed enchanting his own equipment,

Something his foes rarely were prepared for.

An elf wielding magic is rare,

Not something they teach in the academies

And not something The King ever did share.

 

As Taryn fought with each of his own,

The Queen took advantage of what had been sown,

"Taryn! You fool! How do you expect to take what is mine

When your own men are fool enough to see you Divine?"

 

Taryn faced the Queen, "Witch! My army comes with volition,

Your fortress will fall, and we will

Teach you the definition of retribution.

My body may be wary, but

My spirit remains strengthened by my memories,

Ready to assist me in annihilating you."

 

The Queen smirked with a slight furl of her brow,

"Taryn, why do you never address me proper, my King?

I am a Queen, not some common rabble."

She held her staff with an unusual tension as she finished speaking.

 

The King turned to face The Queen,

"I will not be told how to speak, you fiend.

I have had dreams of this day for many years,

And my warriors thirst for the blood of our enemy."

 

As Taryn finished speaking, he shouted to his troops,

"Advance!"

They rushed forth before their King,

Like an unstoppable lance.

With elven haste, they scattered, with heart,

Finding weaknesses in the structural integrity to start,

Looking for any advantage to help them

Tear her fortress apart.

 

The Necromancer Queen had foreseen this moment,

Happening exactly as it was, her glee was now showing.

She had been scrying into the Abyss for a thousand hours,

Scouring and devouring what she was not meant to see.

But, in a sadistic trade of her soul to The Dark One,

A cryptic intention, her free will would no longer be her own.

In exchange, a power nearly limitless in potential,

Existentially dismissed from the plane of the living.

More power than any elven magus could ever hope to wield.

Not only would she have access to this unholy weapon,

But The Dark One had also thrown in a single total resurrection,

Allowing her to essentially die and be brought back,

Without question.

The deal was not without it's exceptions,

She would have to wait 500 years before resurrecting.