Black Flame Emyprium Curse Of Innate Greed

Hammers, chisels, forges, and coal lay about

Workshops that once use to spring life

Are sullen their masters have disappeared

The earth was dyed red

From the moon high above

Blood and carnage soaked the purity

Of what once used to be holy and pure

The sky was star-less.

Gems shattered and strewn about

Swords, Sabres, Spears, Halberds, Great Swords

Emit a blood red radiance

In the middle of the battlefield

Sheathed in black-red wrapping

The king of swords stabbed into the earth

Emits loneliness for its wielders

Slumbers unknown to the tragedy

That had befallen his home.

Obsidian woke from his slumber

His workshop the once well known

Black Flame Empyrium Workshop was devoid of life

Upon realizing his fellow brothers in arms

Have disappeared, and the smell of blood hangs in the air

Obsidian ascended from his underground home

Upon returning from his deep slumber

The land was decaying

Dismembered bodies of his brothers strewn about.

The hundred of hours he and his brothers put into

Building a paradise where dreams gather

Lay strewn about in shambles of its past glory

The stone fountains, gardens, hand sculpted models

The breeze that use to be calming

And the song the birds use to sing

Are overcome by the bloody wasteland

Of abandoned dreams.

Innate greed is a weapon, and controlled greed is a blessing.