The Tower

Ages passed within that steady, unflinching hour

When it was decided I would be the one whom should tread upon the black tower

No man nor god alike within its wake knew of such cyclopean scale and power

When it finally hinged on my fate, in cruelty, that I ascend the gruesome black spire

A venture of wits and brawn and for a great chosen one with a deep burning fire

I do this all now, not for myself nor the strain but land and royal sire

A distant glance at the plains below, ripe once with such fervent life and meaning

There lay the work; there lay the victim of what seemed the derange of indescribable bad dreaming

Prophets soon beckoned from far and wide were called forth in private meetings

From the far east and from the far north the rumors filled the ear in such hushed tone fleeting

They spoke of the ancient monolith, inactive and thought abandoned long ago

The clouded ladder disguised in a fog so green that lurched between the cliffs of Vaalkr and haunting distant Burk-Sangro

A corpse of its former life and a husk left by some long forsaken masters in the time of ancients

My feet drag still as I journey up hill and peak to find the vilest of answers with unnerving patience

A steady hum greets my ears finally as I approach the fiend–the surroundings bane

The eerie sound soon began to flicker, lapping at the most reasonable mind to make it less sane

From its origin, I shakily try to regain my wits, peering within the fort of ruined stone

I wish I had not–from what I saw within that error will never let my mind be still, chilling my sanity and perception to the bone

I must now not sleep as the others do, nor musn’t I retreat and warn house nor home

For His time is upon us all

There it is–the eerie hum of Xan-Tel’s drone and our fall

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