| OF NIMROLL'S FURTHER ADVANCES With Longran slain and Tren claiming the throne, Less than half of Talakar withstood his grasp. And Horrigran�s treasured diamond sword heirloom, Within his own wrathful hand Tren did clasp. For he coveted it too deeply to relinquish it, Which sent Grenwold into a fury of hate. But all the King�s army held allegiance to Tren, The King reduced to his Captain's fate. It is said when Tren unsheathed Heiliger Diamant, One could see a slight glimmer from inside. Throughout all the history of Horrigran�s Kings, Naught had been seen since the Belefont Tide. For a black heart possessed the Captain of Nimroll. Alone was necessary to cause the diamond to glow. And is told that with each person he slew, The power of the condemned light would grow. So further East continued on Tren�s legion, At the Village Fosterre they arrived. Helpless to resist the unprovoked onslaught, Falling victim to the siege derived. Though a small division it was to conquer, Tren obtained a prisoner of remarkable source; Tarago, a wizard, though none did know, For he kept his past secret by habit of force. Five nights held captive under a constant guard. Next day, to Tren�s grief, he did disappear. Fleeing North he was hunted alongside Dorath, Approaching forbidden Belefont which all men fear. Wandering through Dorath and losing his trail, Tren�s men grew wary traveling so far North. At first sight of Gnadenlos the troop turned back, Eager to bring Nimroll�s conquest back forth. And then on returning, to show failure to him, Meant he�d draw his sword upon all of those men. Disregarding their pleading, no mercy Tren gave. Another shade brighter the diamond shone then. With most of Talakar so close in his hold, Only two places were left for him to gain: Alboroth out East and Norman on Dorath's West. Both, in time, Tren was sure he would obtain. Passing under Dorath marching up its West bank, Tren came upon Lake Findrum of tales of old. Then began resonating the sword at his side, A bond shared with Totenzauber never been told. Nearer the water the more vibrant the sound. And at the lake�s edge, singing clear and loud. The height of its strength the sword had been then, But adhering that power Tren was not allowed. Oblivious the reason, he took his course back North, To Norman, tucked in one of Dorath�s corners. A village exposed to the Fellar�s cruel touches, An exiled people dwelling in the City of Mourners. An overshadowed existence since the Belefont Tide, A company never receiving the grace of their peers. When Tren came to destroy the only home they ever knew, He took evil pleasure in mustering their tears. Now Alboroth only, guarding the grounds of the East, Had no trial yet from Nimroll�s cruel fate. Soon that would change for as Tren saw fit, No Kingdom should stand in the might of his hate. |