High of trail to the mountain top,
Strong and proud that cannot be stop.
For which, that laid, an ancient beast,
Whose soul is grand with greed to feast.
On open air it serve the might,
Eyes of land the whole view on sight.
Lurk in the shadow that raise from dawn,
Stretched wings on the sky its fond.
Scales as diamond thicks of plate,
Wings of bats that shroud by fate.
Majestic beast who bore such sound,
Upon its roar that shatter around.
Rotten teeth of acid snake,
Iron spears that tear and break.
Putrid breath of gas and flame,
Might that fields of wealth and fame.
Yet gold invite the need and want,
Claymen souls that burn to haunt.
They crave much more against a foe,
Accursed race the treasure show.
All such men would face the threat,
Moral strikes their purpose in set.
The kind that last by sword and steel,
Blood shall spill with furious zeal.
…never suspected me posting twice…did ya? No? Maybe it’s just me…