Heavens fell and Hell rose up, mankind witheld and fought the war.
Soldiers and heroes arose to fight, angels and demons tore up the sky,
Down below, the turmoil thickened, the strong survived but the weak just weakened.
Completely useless, the downtroden, lack of strength, lack of power.
Dying by the numbers, the soldiers move on, as the war still rages, our numbers grow strong.
Broken backs, faces disfigured, no memories in lost minds, the dwarves and the crippled.
I limp through the war, through bodies long rotten, I scrap what I can instead of escaping.
Naturally hunched, my face is disfigured, my arms are too long, the words I just growl 'em.
The fallen wear armors I could never wear, on their faces helmets that'd make my face fair, once champions of life, chosen by the world, they died for a place they thought was not cold.
But we were shunned by gods and by fates, cast aside by people's hearts, by peolpe's gates.
They pushed us aside, lest they be poisoned by our infection pools, we cast out far and survive, all ill and all fools.
Decades go by, we are all still the same, cities grow large and we're still mostly lame.
Foul at the body, hideous faces, mishaped skeletons, the ones with weird paces.
The flesh is all weak and it'll soon succumb, but ours is the first to have ever gone wrong.
Together we've fought, cruelty and humilliation, faintly protecting those within the trodened nation.
Now all has gone bad and grows worse it would seem, demons run rampant, our world at their feet.
The end draws too near, the World Ravager comes, ending all life and obliterating hopes.
Lifting the shield a great champion wore, I claim a great sword that a light's angel swung.
I don now the armor a world war master kept, conveniently broken and in my shape bent, I climb up a building the demons just swept.
Everyone runs out of fear of destruction, I hope they get away from this foul aberration, I get to the top and the winds be my witness, I glare into the eyes and the face of this madness.
The stare in its eyes as I figured it out, gave a familiar feeling from those of the past, it looked down on me as if I was mad, as I had no right to make this last stand.
Kings, heroes and commons all look disgusted, when I growled the same words I will soon say out loud, as if they were the greater or chosen by gods somehow,
mind you great beast, your glare is no different, to that I say, no, this time I shout...
I WILL NOT BOW!
You planned for eons this malevolent feast, but nor you, nor the kings ever account for us broken and that's your defeat, you planned for the champions, you planned for the heroes, but the mistake that beckons your end...?
You never planned me.
Continued in Justice and Horror