*Writing down in her black journal*
It was strange seeing so many new faces but then seeing old faces... Faces I use to know as younger inexperienced people who listened and took notice. Now they seem older, more experienced. Weakness they had before is gone replaced with eagerness. They look past me now, as if I wasn't there or if they take notice they look down on me. I feel lost in the same place where I first started my own adventures at. Matilda whom was connected directly to death in an aura of necromantic weave is now a Paladin of Toran! I was shocked to say the least but at least she is still the innocent little girl she was, still the innocent soul. I feel a bit creative and with my birthday coming up in a few weeks, I decided to write a little poem to myself as a little present.
Though black fire twists apon my soul,
A Demon, within my bones.
Smoke swirling swiftly like magic clouds.
Disguised as my blood.
Into the flames, and without shame, consumed with howls and screams.
as I smile in my dispair, on this my birth's eve.
Cruel is this wind and it quells my word.
I shout out to the rain.
Incantations I so hope you heard, that you live again.
And deep earth brings forth twisted wings, as it breathes forth with.
Sighing softly with chilling words, as the undead smiles to me on my birth's eve.
The illusions I weave with necromance.
Would send many to eternal sleep.
Monster they called me through my life.
As I sleep on a bed of autumn leaves, on my birth's eve.
Into my eyes, you'd be quite surprised, I whisper don't you fear.
Sing the wolves song and dance till dawn, this night of my birth's eve.
Cold is the night, in so many ways.
Lunar out full and bright.
Putting the blackrose on the fresh dug grave.
On it I resight, an ancient spell I know so well.
Success is garunteed...
I'll bring you back from where you've gone...
On this my birth's eve...
