The Bloodstained Moon

Of all the legends in the world of Agrador, the legends surrounding the dragons of Moru Irr are amongst the oldest. This is but one of many that has endured for centuries.

Why should we fear a bloodstained moon,

When the winds blow from the north.

Or when starlight reveals the dragons’ runes,

At winter’s first bitter frost.

 

When growls the distant thunder,

From the mountains beyond the Lanshiel.

And minds faintly wonder,

Just what nightmares could be real.

 

When a stir of shadows or a bump in the night,

Makes men reach for sword or spear.

And children cling to mothers tight,

Fearing a darkness growing near.

 

What lay in wait in the hearts of men,

What virtue and strength do we feign.

What weakness is concealed within,

That we fear their very names.

 

Do we dare speak the words - come what may,

And break loose these shackles of fear.

A thousand years have slipped away,

Since the Dragons of Moru Irr.

Who yet lives that knows the truth,

Of these tales from long ago.

Tales that entertained our youth,

 Whose seeds of fear yet grow.

 

We sang the tale of Maxim the king,

Who ushered in all Dragon kind.

Then songs of Ghorn and Thalos we would sing,

Descendants of the Dragon King’s bloodline.

 

The most powerful of all is the Dragon we fear,

Seventh son of Thalos, grandson of Ghorn.

His vengeance awaited with each passing year,

The Dragon named Valharon.

 

On the first day of winter a millennia ago

A blood red moon crossed the sky.

A powerful wind from the north did blow,

As Valharon’s fate drew nigh.

 

Runes appeared as orcs marched on Moru Irr,

Their meaning is yet unknown.

They appeared when the starry night was clear,

On shards of ancient stone.

Some say they were warnings that our pact was no more,

Signs from the star filled skies.

They revealed that for greed we sacrificed all,   

And betrayed our dragon allies.

 

Our lust for power is sure to return,

Like the seasons and rise of the tides.

They’ll be no reprieve when the world starts to burn,

When the next age of dragons arrives.

 

His vengeance swift and sure, his rage unmatched,

He will invoke the dragon rite.

To avenge his pride of dragons,

Valharon will bring flames in the night.

 

Why do we fear for a bloodstained moon,

When the winds blow from the north.

And starlight reveals the dragon’s runes,

At winter’s first bitter frost.

 

 

Reviews

[Sam]

Intriguing. Does this accompany a story?