Legendary Lies, and Astonishing Tales,
Are but the bounties,
Off the seas I have sailed,
Long damp Nights,
And Winding gales,
Across the harbor of Rorimdale,
Hear my words,
And hold your coin,
Speak to none,
And sip your wine,
Not tonight, Not Tonight.
The usual I spew,
But I speak instead,
Of the Song of the Seven,
And the blood they drew.
Dance, Fey lights,
howl, Grey Wolves,
Entrance the dark,
Before, I be through…
For never again shall I sing the same,
The Dying Song of Leon The True.
When the Sun was younger,
And the Moons were still twain,
In the wondrous age,
In the fairest of cities
Lived, Leon the one they called Strange.
Shunned by all,
Live and Dead,
Shunned by family,
Shunned by Friends,
Alone to walk,
His road of shades,
Alone to save the Land’s Peace,
Alone he stood and wore them down,
Alone a dagger, a rope, a crown,
Alone he caught the balance as it fell,
Alone he saved the Lion’s Tell.
Alone until his dying day,
Thus was cast the fates spell
Dread the one who follows his path.
And follows his road down to hell.
Dread the shades that faced his wrath
Dread the countless dying chaff,
Paving the road of bones, his to walk
Alone between Dark and Light,
Stood Leon the Strange,
The meekest Knight.