Hail, my friend, liest thou with ear open wide, Forsooth a tale I shall relate with pride. Of battle fierce and bravery untold, Where Slade warriors didst face the bold. In ancient times, the land was fair and bright, Where folk didst live in peace and might. But in the depths of caverns primordial, An evil lurked, no mortal soul would tell. And yet, the bards didst sing of ancient fears, Of monsters dire that caused men to tears. The Slade seals were wrought with care and skill, To keep the evil locked in depths so still. But when the day didst come that all didst know, That evil grew and threatened to overthrow. The Slade warriors with swords held high, Didst ride forth, their battle cries to the sky. And there, in the Slade, was fought a fateful fight, With monsters fierce, in the depths of the night. The battle raged for many a moon and day, Till all was lost and the warriors lay. Their bones now scatter ‘mongst the slade stones, A testament to battles lost and won. And though their valor didst seal the evil deep, None know from where it came, nor what didst creep. So, friend, dost thou remember this old tale, And heed its warning when thou hearest the wail. For Slade is not a place of honor bright, But a realm of darkness, where the brave didst fight.
A blocky survival game.