Legend of the Mortal God
All hope was lost at
world’s end.
The Dark was strong and
wouldn’t bend.
Mankind had given into
hate,
And the Gods had left
them to their fate.
Once golden fields were
left to rot,
As armies bled, and
died, and fought.
Proud trees with roots
as old as time,
Were chopped to ruin by
man’s crime.
Ancient mountains
quaked with fear,
They knew the truth,
the end was near.
Kings marched
announced by rumbling drums.
Kingdoms turned to
ashen crumbs.
With spear, and mace,
and sword in hand,
Villains laid waste to
the land.
Their torches blazed
with violent flame,
And many lives their
heat did claim.
Try as they might, man
could not flee;
And so they took to
bended knee.
Where were the Gods?
They wished to know,
But still their saviors
would not show.
Within the Heavens,
untouched by pain,
One Deity did hang his
head in shame.
Restrained by oath and
blind decrees,
No prayers were
answered, no minds appeased.
Angels stood silent in
empty halls,
There were no joyful
trumpet calls.
The spirit of the
Silver Gates had broken,
Due to this promise the
Gods had spoken.
He couldn’t watch, he
couldn’t bear,
The long, unending
stream of prayer.
When he found he could
not idle stand,
He took his righteous
blade in hand.
His mighty shield, of
steel and wood,
Defied the Gods in name
of Good.
Three silver chevrons
upon his breast,
Became a beacon, a
hopeful crest.
The wicked, they did
fear his gaze,
He set their vile
hearts ablaze.
Down from the heavens
he did descend,
The wounds of man he
sought to mend.
The people wept, and
then rejoiced.
For Vandor was their
only voice.
A warrior come from
upon high,
To save them when the
end seemed nigh.
He ended wars, he ended
greed.
For mortals he did
fight and bleed.
A legend from the plane
of Valor,
Around him quiet storms
did gather.
No innocent soul was
left forgotten,
All was healed that
once was rotten.
