Nathan Slade

Nathan Slade had made an enemy of his own kind

Cruel thoughts that stemmed from his twisted mind

Became reality through each murderous whim

As his axe was swift and his gift was sin

Slaying an army of warring trolls

He collected their ears and polished their skulls

Riding a stallion a silhouette of pure black

Ready for wars and a goblin attack

Fighting forever this mercenary bold

Filled his dank cellar with silver and gold

Slade drank from a chalice blood mixed with wine

The food that he ate was all bought through crime

Alone in his castle he conversed with death

Talked all night long until his last tired breath

Asleep in a chair but never in bed

Resting in peace he became friends of the dead

Slade was thought mad, demon possessed   

For in his castle pure evil was blessed

Living alone with the devil so near

Made others wary, cautious with fear

Dwelling in shadows ignoring each dawn

The dark was his friend and the light he would scorn

But there was more to this outlaw than hatred and greed

He loathed Grimwood Scribes, had sworn to succeed

In bringing him down and breaking his rule

Which Slade thought was wicked, sadistic and cruel

To that aim Nathan Slade became famed

Defending a land that he had so shamed…

Nathan Slade