Achaean News
See the Light
Written by: Kog Terias
Date: Wednesday, August 21st, 2024
Addressed to: Everyone
Call me the Shuun because I normally move slow and calm,
Outsiders get the cold shoulder that no caloric can balm.
But the ice on top is masking hypothermic currents below,
You'll sound like Hailquas'an when caught in my undertow.
You cry for Fire, and cling to the Light,
But I'm not blinded by the shine of that blight.
I'll speed up my pace, your attention span's short,
You're planning mass murder you'll need to distort.
You cry out 'Creation' and slaughter a kid,
Why feign indignance? We know what you did.
You sacrificed the young so you wouldn't fall,
Stole from a father his child, her doll.
Smoke from your Pyre can't hide such a shame,
Is this how Aeowynn's gonna make Dame?
Go back for a moment (I know you don't care)
The rest of the world just need be aware.
I'll follow a current in quick summary,
The legacy of Targossas, and all its debris:
Aligned with the 'teth and condemned us to death
Borrowed Roualt with Farrah 'at fault',
Excuses lacks Patches, for Jaru's drowned masses
Darkwalker to Gaia, yet no longer pariah?
The rapids are past, water might clear your eyes,
If you're angry or shameful, I could sympathize.
Such a shame none could stomach -- my bile would rise,
Will your city be better the next (third?) reprise?
To Targossas I speak, but to benefit Sapience,
and reveal filth concealed by veneers of irradiance.
If your standards weren't double, you wouldn't have any,
The Good loves its few, so you'll slaughter the many.
If it gets you ahead, or puts others behind,
Gleefully underfoot the ashes you'll grind.
Ashes from Tsol'teth who you were first set to battle,
Bloodsworn then fooled by a Darkwalker's prattle?
Ashes from Jaru, if not too damp to burn,
slain in the wake of your SECOND heel turn.
Ashes burnt from our Reckoning with Patrick's Occult-
but Aurora prefers Chaos when faced with insult.
Ashes from lectures you feared to let stand,
with Deucalion's pet, his Roualt right hand.
Ashes from foes, and ashes from allies,
Creation to ashes, when Targossas rallies.
Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Miraman, in the year 954 AF.
See the Light
Written by: Kog Terias
Date: Wednesday, August 21st, 2024
Addressed to: Everyone
Call me the Shuun because I normally move slow and calm,
Outsiders get the cold shoulder that no caloric can balm.
But the ice on top is masking hypothermic currents below,
You'll sound like Hailquas'an when caught in my undertow.
You cry for Fire, and cling to the Light,
But I'm not blinded by the shine of that blight.
I'll speed up my pace, your attention span's short,
You're planning mass murder you'll need to distort.
You cry out 'Creation' and slaughter a kid,
Why feign indignance? We know what you did.
You sacrificed the young so you wouldn't fall,
Stole from a father his child, her doll.
Smoke from your Pyre can't hide such a shame,
Is this how Aeowynn's gonna make Dame?
Go back for a moment (I know you don't care)
The rest of the world just need be aware.
I'll follow a current in quick summary,
The legacy of Targossas, and all its debris:
Aligned with the 'teth and condemned us to death
Borrowed Roualt with Farrah 'at fault',
Excuses lacks Patches, for Jaru's drowned masses
Darkwalker to Gaia, yet no longer pariah?
The rapids are past, water might clear your eyes,
If you're angry or shameful, I could sympathize.
Such a shame none could stomach -- my bile would rise,
Will your city be better the next (third?) reprise?
To Targossas I speak, but to benefit Sapience,
and reveal filth concealed by veneers of irradiance.
If your standards weren't double, you wouldn't have any,
The Good loves its few, so you'll slaughter the many.
If it gets you ahead, or puts others behind,
Gleefully underfoot the ashes you'll grind.
Ashes from Tsol'teth who you were first set to battle,
Bloodsworn then fooled by a Darkwalker's prattle?
Ashes from Jaru, if not too damp to burn,
slain in the wake of your SECOND heel turn.
Ashes burnt from our Reckoning with Patrick's Occult-
but Aurora prefers Chaos when faced with insult.
Ashes from lectures you feared to let stand,
with Deucalion's pet, his Roualt right hand.
Ashes from foes, and ashes from allies,
Creation to ashes, when Targossas rallies.
Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Miraman, in the year 954 AF.