Forsooth, it doth make mine heart heavy To think of those brave souls now lost. Their deaths brought forth a fearsome cost, And yet, a seal was wrought to end the evil. Woe betide us, few survivors of the fight, With broken hearts and aching souls we dwell, We miss our kin and loved ones fell, And tears doth flow like rivers in the night. Yea, though the slayers fought with all their might, The battle fierce and the casualties great, In the end, a seal was made to hold the fate Of the evil that threatened plight. With shattered bones and broken dreams abound, We wail and mourn for those who fell in fight, And though the seal of evil doth hold tight, Our loss is a heavy burden to be found.
A blocky survival game.