User:GusTheGreat69

From the Watcher
Cry not my child, this pain will go,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             I watch from above and what I tell is what I know. You are not alone, you must not think so,                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Through all your grieving you must know,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                I am here beside, I will watch over you. They have seen it, my eyes they have seen through. Cry not my child, you must rejoice,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Time will come, and you shall hear their voice

- Watcher Cassiath

Bastard blood on bastard hands,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       Fierce battle on fierce land. Remember the time you slew your brother,                                                                                                                                                                                                                Remember how you ran for cover. You are in this land no more,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 But you will forever feel the claw,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           The claw that drags you endlessly,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      The claw that will be all you see.

Bastard blood on bastard hands,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Fierce battle on fierce land. Come you poor wounded soul,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Weaker are you than a foal? Know this now and know this well,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      Your mind has you under a spell. This spell known as fear,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        This spell known to appear

In times of trouble and of woe,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            And this spell will not go. This spell is called your conscience,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        It will have dire consequence. It will be your master,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Be one with yourself, avoid disaster

- Watcher Cassiath

From the Abnar
Has life been wrought so low as earth? that trodden vales should ring with woe? My son, know you, what Spring is worth,                                                                                                                                                                                                                              so winter’s tears should never flow. Fear not the loss of revered blood,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          Its honor spills on hallowed ground. That love lived well, and did its good,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      in death, EIisium you’ve found.

- Abnar A Pimp Named Gus

Held in what wethered hands,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                By what waters turn rock to sand. King of old, your time draws near,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         But alas your people fear. Give them courage, give them power,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Do not let them die, prosper is the hour                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  The hour when your time is done,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          The hour when the war is won. By what eyes see your pain,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Your legacy is not to be in vain

-Abnar A Pimp Named Gus