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Nathrangking

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Nathrangking last won the day on August 3 2022

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About Nathrangking

  • Birthday 08/29/2016

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  • Member Title
    Master and overlord of all magics both good and evil
  • Gender
    Male
  • Interests
    Writing poetry etc..., Reading the Cosmere, Military History, Mythology, as well as countless other interests. I am the all powerful creator and destroyer of worlds and realities. Poet, Author, Playwright, Screenwriter, Bibliophile a few titles of many that create the form of the enigma.

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  1. Poem #18                                                                Raging Maelstrom

    Mountains tremble as a voice calls out from regions unspoiled by the destroying eyes of demons wreathed in chains that drip boiling poison. The whole of the earth is split and cleaved in two. Armies freeze as their weapons become dust and ash in their hands. Beasts of prey tumble through the air as they leap and fall short as through a barrier holds them back. Vast oceans caught in storm rage as no more than ineffectual petulant children. Whirlwinds transport legions into forests older than mortal memories. In the dark razors painted with scarlet flecks seek to strip back flesh and tear the living spirit from both the living and the dead. Arrows of lightning fall from archers hands and ignite an inferno that illuminates the world from one edge of the mortal plane to the other. Agony rushes through city streets with the wild abandon beasts stricken with the crazed touch of Bacchus. Nemesis and her legions descend upon this damned place calling upon the weavers of Pluto's realm to employ their unfeeling shears. Jove's eagles fly across the heavens reaching their talons to rip away the tributes that the fearful try to secret away. Deep chasms offer no place to hide from the eyes of the furies as they glare into the void of living souls. All that exists is stripped bare and ravaged by immortals whose foolish whims drive the ground to fracture. Minerva and her shield stand aside in silence allowing carnage to roll across the land as though Neptune's hand was guiding the absolute destruction. Even the Avenger is left without words or thoughts. Every power in the cosmos acts at the same time with the precision that only primordial beings are capable. Kings cower in crumbled palaces surrounded by rains of dust which is their gilt and treasure. An epoch that consumes has grabbed hold of this pitiful realm. No end is near for any, but the single one who slips away with their cloaked back to the storm. 

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