Nathan Slade
Nathan Slade had made an enemy of his own kind
Cruel thoughts that stemmed from his twisted mind
Became reality through each murderous whim
As his axe was swift and his gift was sin
Slaying an army of warring trolls
He collected their ears and polished their skulls
Riding a stallion a silhouette of pure black
Ready for wars and a goblin attack
Fighting forever this mercenary bold
Filled his dank cellar with silver and gold
Slade drank from a chalice blood mixed with wine
The food that he ate was all bought through crime
Alone in his castle he conversed with death
Talked all night long until his last tired breath
Asleep in a chair but never in bed
Resting in peace he became friends of the dead
Slade was thought mad, demon possessed
For in his castle pure evil was blessed
Living alone with the devil so near
Made others wary, cautious with fear
Dwelling in shadows ignoring each dawn
The dark was his friend and the light he would scorn
But there was more to this outlaw than hatred and greed
He loathed Grimwood Scribes, had sworn to succeed
In bringing him down and breaking his rule
Which Slade thought was wicked, sadistic and cruel
To that aim Nathan Slade became famed
Defending a land that he had so shamed…
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