The cold winds of Albatron blow softly in the night.
The reaper stalks the hidden plains seeking evil and unlife.
You cannot hide forever from things that want you dead.
The reaper cares not about your soul, he'll be happy with your head.
You say there's been some mistake, you didn't do the deed.
The reaper says there's no mistake, you killed them in your greed.
You scream and beg for mercy, the reaper mutters no.
He throws you down and prepares the killing blow.
But then the reaper halts, a gleam within his eye.
He says there is a way, you do not have to die.
The reaper wants and errand done, he commands you to go.
If you want to keep your head you'll listen and you'll do so.
The reaper points you north, to lands old and barren.
He commands you fetch a treasure, within the hoard of dragon.
You hesitate confused, the reaper readies his scythe again.
And then you flee, you will never see the plain again.
The cold mountains of Albatron are as ruthless as are wide.
The last wolves howl for blood, the ghosts flee and hide.
You cannot run forever with demons on your trail.
And so you turn and fight as the light begins to fail.
The wolf pack halts and sniffs the air, hungry as the night.
But smelling you they turn to leave, they do not want a fight?
No, food is scarce but life is fleeting.
Something about you the wolves do not want for eating.
So away you turn to descend the hill, the wind is at your back.
Beneath your feet is all that's left of a narrow winding track.
And so quit of wolves and snow and wind your mind begins to wander.
You have a quest of reaper's words, and on them you shall ponder.
“Past the Tombs of Albatron, near ever-seas of Wrath.
To abandoned towers and dragon's gold your path.
Within the beast's chambers a ring of gems and strife.
Bring it back to my hand, and you shall have your life.”
The blackened tombs of Albatron hide secrets with the dead.
And not all ghosts sleep quietly within their bed.
You cannot block forever the sounds of screaming shades.
The wailing cuts as sharp as any tooth or blade.
The ancient kings of Albatron arise to speak your name.
They ask if not you, then who else would you blame?
The kings they mock your weary feet, trying to save your skin.
They say had they been you they would have let the reaper make an end.
Your feet they halt, your ears have had enough.
“Dead you are, but never had you life this rough.”
“Oh, noble kings were you, I know each and every tale.”
“But what do you know of a king who was weak and frail?”
“It's true I failed, I know not if they live or die.”
“But I'll forsake my honor, because for them at least I'll try.”
The old ones vanish, they were never but the faded past.
And upon the coast, you see the dragon's lair at last.
The darkest seas of Albatron crash wrathfully upon this shore.
And the sun sets across the sea as if to rise no more.
You cannot stand forever before the crumbling gate.
And so you take the steps that shall decide your fate.
And now, as you are nearly at the end, you begin to doubt your quest.
Did it really matter if the reaper or the dragon sends you to your rest?
The words of spirits mock you, will this really save your life?
But then, you suppose you fear the flame less than you fear the scythe.
The night has fallen and storm clouds are brewing.
And the old tower begins to look more tomb than ruin.
You light a torch, perhaps this last dragon had finally died.
It has been three full reigns since any dragon was spied.
The dragons hoard is large, though larger you have seen.
And yet, you are still impressed by its mystic sheen.
You begin to wonder how you will find a ring that is unique.
But then, with the sound of a midnight thunder, behold! The dragon speaks.
“The moonlit dragons of Albatron are stronger than the sun.
And though you strike a thousand blows, I need not more than one.
You cannot hide forever that there is something you desire.
For it seems that you have more to fear than simply dragon fire”
You cannot speak, the dragon's majesty has taken your breath.
The dragon snorts, it detests your fear; the wish to hide.
“No matter”, the dragon sighs. “I can guess. You were sent by Death”
“It has been long enough, the old fool has quite enough pride”
The dragon spits, spewing jewelry and moonlight at your feet.
“I stole that ring nigh 500 full moons ago, to teach Death the truth.
That even with immortality and a Reaper's Scythe, he can still be beat.
And even the gods respected me in my far-gone youth.”
“But if Death has sent you to beg at my door, then perhaps he's learned.
So take the ring, but as Death asks you a favor, I must ask one then.
The king has destroyed Albatron, my children will die in a land so burned.
So if he could, ask Death if he would save the last of my kin.
The Silver Moon of Albatron shines quietly through the rain.
The Dragon sings to it sadly; farewell to a beautiful thing.
You cannot listen forever to the ancient being’s pain.
And so you kneel and grasp upon Death’s twisted ring.
You close your hand upon the ring, and the world vanishes from sight
Reality flashes before your eyes and you hear a mighty shout
“To death, Death comes, since the beginning of the light.
There are none who shall escape; there is no way out.”
The world slides back into reality, and you hide your eyes.
You've seen enough, you know you don't want to be where you are.
But then, ashamed, you realize that you've had too many lies.
So you raise your head and prepare to open the rest of your scars.
The sun is rising here, you wish that it was still night.
And still as the night, Death is silhouetted by the dawn.
You walk up beside Death, your courage threatening flight.
But he is silent, and at last you sigh, and look out beyond.
The Shining city of Albatron, is burning to the ground.
The flames are burning brightly and yet, without a sound.
You cannot bear forever to watch your memories die.
And finally the silence ends as The Reaper breathes a sigh.
“I blamed you for this, just as everyone has done.
So many dead, and I have only just begun.
I help people die, I really shouldn't care
But there is only so much pain anyone can bear”
“I am Immortal yes, all things will fade like dust
But I had hoped once, that this place I could trust.
To be still standing when all men were dead and gone.
But in the end, not you nor I, could save dying Albatron.”
You turn to leave, the deal finished, you survive again.
But suddenly you look back, to see the world’s end.
Behold! The sun and moon shine together in the sky.
And then you leave, and life and Death bid Albatron goodbye.