The Night Before BLOODWAR!!!

Thought I'd repost this again for all the newbies I've seen lately. I wrote it for the newsletter a few years ago and it is still one of my favorites... enjoy!

'Twas the night before Bloodwar and all through the spire

The Wamphyri were stirring, their blood all afire.

Curtains shrouded the windows, hung with great care,

So that the enemy would not see them there.

Wratha up top, with her plots and her schemes,

Visions of conquest a-dance in her dreams.

Lichloathe below (he had already flown),

Hunting an Enemy soon to be known.

Canker was singing to his Mistress Moon,

Slapping his ear to the horrible tune.

Spiro and Wran were fighting again,

While Gorvi below amassed undead men.

When up from the pits arose such a clatter,

They wondered at once just what was the matter.

Away to their windows they skittered as one,

To see how much damage was already done.

The hot fire of methane, white as the snow,

Gave a luster of midday to the horror below.

When what to their wondering eyes should appear?

But a barely -glimpsed man with strange, deadly gear.

There in a second -- then gone with a stroke,

They knew in a moment, 'twas the Necroscope!

More rapid than light his human form came,

And he cursed and he shouted and called them by name:

"Wratha the Risen, and Lord Nestor too,

Lords Wran and Spiro -- I got to you!

Gorvi the Guile, and Canker the Pup,

Turn back right now, just give it up!

From the top of the spire to the lowliest hall,

Best dash away, dash away, dash away all!"

Wamphyri, they waited, and everyone knew

They were dealing with Vormulac...

...and the Necroscope too!

And then in a twinkling they heard in the night

A roaring and belching that filled them with fright.

As they drew themselves in and were turning away,

Spiraling down came those great beasts of prey.

They were dressed all in armor and ready for war,

Their gauntlets raised up, all covered in gore.

The weakest came first, they came winging right on,

Thinking the bloodwar was already won.

Their eyes, how they twinkled, their mandibles dripping,

Why, this was no fight -- it was more like a whipping!

But into the night the Renegades came,

Hacking and tearing, to kill and to maim.

The bulk of the spire they held by their teeth,

And the smoke that encircled it hung like a wreath.

And then came a bloodwave, vicious and smelly,

That shook up the earth like a bowl full of jelly.

They were beaten and bruised - a right sorry lot,

But they put up a fight and gave what they got.

In the wink of an eye and a whole Sundown fled,

Soon gave them to know, they were better off dead.

Spiro flown, and the Guile gone down under,

Wran flown away, to pillage and plunder.

Canker was raving and Wratha alone,

Up high in a cage, her small army flown.

She begged for naught but a fond farewell kiss,

(With her dark gypsy looks, how could she miss?)

The phlegm that she gathered deep in her gullet,

Was spat into the Grandam, quick as a bullet!

And laying her hands on the bars of her cage,

Wratha the Risen did rant, rave, and rage.

She was heard to exclaim as she dangled on high,

"My death shall be swift -- but how shall you die?!"

Well, they'd had a good plan, fought a valiant fight,

But the fact of the matter: 'twas not a good night!