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This is a ballad of Ozgho Clemns, and his fight against Lady Nyssa. Baldwin (Or I, if you need to get technical) was inspired to start this ballad after today's events. I apologize for any inaccuracies, but they are somewhat intentional. You shall understand in time.
Living under Roma's walls was a man and his mask.
A figure clad in fading grey.
With vindication in his soul
He hunted demons in the fray.
With vigor he fought against the dark
To bring about the light
But soon higher powers saw his strength
And sought to subdue his might.
Malice seeped into the world
Lead by the Devil who stands for dread.
She took his soul and his pride
By stealing his mask from his head.
His world was colored black
By the devil who stole his withered crown
Swept away by his tainted heart
He fell away and drowned.
He followed the demons into the night
For his soul was a bitter thrall.
He slaughtered in the name of her
Beneath the blackened walls.
The man spilled blood in utter vain
To quell his unholy lust
With every man that fell to him
His mask grew to rust.
But light found it's way into his fate
By the form of a muse
Who turned him with her lasting grace
And locked his shadow into a truce.
And in front of light the man stood
With fire in his eyes
He faced the demon that starry night
And reclaimed his ancient prize.
But his muse lay dying fast
Under the Devil's call
And one can hope that fate has foretold
The wicked monster's fall.
Living under Roma's walls was a man and his mask.
A figure clad in fading grey.
With vindication in his soul
He hunted demons in the fray.
With vigor he fought against the dark
To bring about the light
But soon higher powers saw his strength
And sought to subdue his might.
Malice seeped into the world
Lead by the Devil who stands for dread.
She took his soul and his pride
By stealing his mask from his head.
His world was colored black
By the devil who stole his withered crown
Swept away by his tainted heart
He fell away and drowned.
He followed the demons into the night
For his soul was a bitter thrall.
He slaughtered in the name of her
Beneath the blackened walls.
The man spilled blood in utter vain
To quell his unholy lust
With every man that fell to him
His mask grew to rust.
But light found it's way into his fate
By the form of a muse
Who turned him with her lasting grace
And locked his shadow into a truce.
And in front of light the man stood
With fire in his eyes
He faced the demon that starry night
And reclaimed his ancient prize.
But his muse lay dying fast
Under the Devil's call
And one can hope that fate has foretold
The wicked monster's fall.
