THE RED HILL’S KING
Rise, O Red Hill’s King!
Prep your armies vast.
The demon horde conches the music o’ war.
Here arrives the beastly Son of Satan from South.
Your wicked Queen ran away,
Dealt your ancestral Holy Casket to the Beast.
The dark prodigy advances,
An ambition to annex your empire with Hell.
Why you drink now, my Lord?
This ain’t no cause of revel, you imbecile.
The royal sages forewarned,
Yet had no impact on your head.
O there he comes,
There they lay, your murdered guards.
Red Hill’s besieged,
Enters the Beast in your Royal Court.
Stomps and shatters your Holy Casket,
Stomps and shatters your peace.
Down on your knees you beg mercy,
Yet Ares directs to war.
Draws your sword from your scabbard
And strikes it at the Beast’s belly.
Stands, he, unscathed
And you, my Lord, in horror.
Gropes, he, from your hair
And drags you out on battlefield.
The ghastly battalion awaits,
For a sacrifice to Satan’s broth.
Your General marches forth aside,
Your army fearlessly behind,
You slice your sword at the Beast’s wrist
And you join your forces to command.
The gruesome clash begins,
A battle of Herculean might.
Fearlessly ride, you,
Slaying the monsters of the Beast.
Down goes your tower,
Down goes your castle to ruination.
Demonic catapults fire upon your army,
Diminishing your numbers’ might.
Unaffected, you charge,
Take the demon Beast head on.
Your General rides along with you,
Your most loyal warrior, a true Lancelot.
Down falls your number vast,
Down falls the Beast’s horde,
Your General trips down the usurper,
You strike his chest and splice his heart out.
Falls the Beast silent,
Drained off his flesh and blood.
You raise your sword sky-high,
The demon horde bewildered.
Retreats down the Hill,
The mighty usurper’s forces,
Take your sword to your reliquary,
A blade carrying the Beast’s heart.
Replace your Holy Casket with it,
Display your glory;
Head back to your throne,
And reclaim your inner peace.
Rebuilds your castle, brick-by-brick,
Regains your kingdom’s might.
Yet peace is afar,
For the fugitives still revolt.
Your remainder army suppresses them,
You rule your kingdom,
But the sky grows dark again,
A new struggle dawns.
Enters your General in Royal Court,
Speaks well of you from the commoner’s mouth.
Self’s glory lost amidst,
Exits the Court, this Machiavellian.
Enters the reliquary, this fallen comrade,
Takes your glorious blade
And dips the Beast’s heart
In the raging Satan’s flame.
Places the burning heart, he,
Into the bony ribs of imprisoned Beast’s remains.
Monster is revived,
A scion of Hell’s vengeance.
Rises the Devil Beast,
Snaps the neck of your General, my Lord.
Rises, he, from his dingy cell,
Into his ethereal form.
Burns a hole in your castle’s foundation,
Brings it down brick-for-brick.
A quake shakes the ground he walks,
Raises back his army, undead.
The demon ghouls march forth,
Revived under their commander,
A multitude of Death.
Your demeanour broken, my Lord,
Your numbers spent.
Your castle crumbles,
Your kingdom in mortal peril.
Ride out, you, to the battlefield,
With your remaining cavalry.
Infantry armed by your inspiration,
And scantily by armour and weapons.
Drawn close to each other,
The Beast and you;
A word to propagate upon,
Before the climactic bloodshed.
Beast: “Surrender, Red Hill’s King.
Naught hath happened irrevocable.
Surrender thee, and I
Shall make thee, my well-paid herald.”
King: “Nay! Thy fiery demon.
Pierce my bosom’s heart,
Mutilate my corpse!
The soul within shall reunite with the Holy Kingdom!”
Angrily, the Beast replies:
“Father Satan shall hath
Thy soul as his broth!”
And swings his mace down upon the King.
The Red Hill’s King with all his might,
Blocks the charge with his sword.
“Charge!” says you, my Lord,
And your loyal army advances to war.
The epic clash begins,
The gruesome war ensues,
Your numbers fully spent,
You retreat to your ruins.
Afraid and wounded, you flee,
Sends your last man to West.
Finds a cavern deep below
The ruins of your castle, to hide.
Marches forth the Beast
To your hideout.
Pulls you out like a worm from ground,
Drags you back, you cowardly wretch.
Tosses you in front of himself,
Orders his ghoulish force at halt.
Challenges your might, your glory,
In a head-on duel.
You arm yourself with your renowned blade,
The Beast with his fiery mace.
Prance upon one-another,
To decide this Age’s fate.
Valour you show, O mighty Red Hill’s Lord,
But your courage has no impact upon the Beast.
Every scar, every strain upon his body,
Brings you close to Hell’s wrath.
Has had enough antics, the Beast,
Strikes you with his mighty mace,
Your armour saves your bosom,
Yet you cough out blood.
Strikes, he, down his mace again,
Down upon your back.
You eat the dirt of your soil,
Adulterated by your royal blood.
Weary and wounded you lie,
Puddle of blood on the ground.
Choked by your final breaths,
Await you, my Lord, for Hades to embrace you.
Mercilessly beats the Beast, you,
No force against him standing.
The conch shells blow again,
Atop the Western hill.
The royal army stands firm,
Led by the Empress of West.
War-elephants, cavalry, infantry; all present,
Awaiting their Queen’s express command.
The Beast halts his shower of brutality,
Stares determined upon the Empress.
Her army marches forth,
To settle this Age’s final score.
The pace quickens of the Empress’ army,
Their cavalry gallops down with vigour.
The pace quickens of the ghoulish army,
All set for Hell’s sacrilege.
You, my Lord, find your humungous trumpet,
In the wreckage of your castle,
Makes it massive blow heard to all,
Your final battle cry.
The demons and the royals clash,
The Beast takes on the Empress.
So graceful and glorious is she,
Her legends come true to witness.
Slices clean the Beast’s legs,
Slices clean his abdomen in upper cut.
The Beast taken aback,
Continues to challenge her glory.
Makes their way down, the Empress’ war chariots,
Downhill with their bladed wheels.
Cuts the ghouls in pieces many,
Until the Beast stands solitary.
O Red Hill’s King, you
Grab a bow and arrow.
The string pulled with all your strength,
For one last of your move.
The Empress knocks down the Beast,
Stabs her blade in his chest.
You, my Lord, fire your arrow,
And blind this raging bull.
Drained, you fall incapacitated,
Yet the Beast rises again.
The sky echoes ferocious roars,
Fly down the Royal Winged-Lions of East.
Land and prance upon the Beast, they
Gnaw him to his bone.
Their sharp sabres dug in,
More effective than a mortal blade.
Chunks of flesh eaten away,
Stands up, the Beast, in a wobbly way.
The Hell’s Serpent constricts from beneath his feet,
Drags him down for his Father’s broth.
Lies you, my Lord, within Death’s grasp,
The Empress declares the war won to you.
Peacefully, you fall asleep for eternity,
A smile upon your face.
The Empress prays a seat for you in Heaven’s Court,
Takes back your glorious sword as her relic.
Cremates your body upon this war-torn land,
A history to be never subject to oblivion.
Comes down from Heaven, the Eternal King,
Down upon the Red Hill.
Annexes your empire to His,
Blesses your soul for afterlife’s journey.
Satan looks up at the Eternal King,
Swears vengeance in a soliloquy.
The present’s sunny sky- a canvas,
God smiles and hurls his roaring thunderbolt.