A year ago it was just now,
On haggard wagon, adorned and bound
In charm, trinket and incense cloud
A figure emerged, set up a podium, as a small few ambled
With a swish, a bow and a croak to clear the throat, began a tale to chill the marrow.
'Ware the weary and ware the wake, ware to they who think they're safe'
'What once thrived, shrivels, what once was clear, is shaded, and woe to the living as they near the abyss'
'Bleak times upon us, sinister shadows betwixt us, abysmal awakenings below us'
'The reckoning is at hand, already orcs and centaurs carve new paths in the land'
'Signs of the times'
The figure rummaged below a wing and gesticulated with a dull skull.
'Here the beak of my kin, a small sickness, spread, infested, rotted the body, mottled the mind, my brother - taken'
'And rest these fates shall not, as they grip the land, decaying, weakening, furthering the shadow's purpose'
'Yet as hope takes flight, stay grounded, be strong of character, upstanding in family and community, work as one'
'Breath life into a tale older than The Bleak, older than false gods, the era of the serpent lords, forgotten but not lost'
'The signs are upon us, the Giant Eagle falls, ancient grounds broken by bottomless chasm, and abominations arising'
'These are our times, but myths live on, and so they speak, seek the spirits of they who hatched the old world'
'Find the form, and unite them in common purpose, and once more shall they be among us, the rulers of us all'
'Most Ancient and Powerful Wyrm-masters'
'Hark the Dragon's return is at hand!"
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