Pressure on the inner walls of my brain grows heavier. I must =



alleviate the pain I feel, for soon many will die as they come =



before me with effortless attempts. The search for divine power =



beckons me and the only way to achieve is to destroy. Victims of a =



torn society lay in waste, as I pick through the bloody carcasses. =



Dead bodies just seem to fall before me. =





Saving the most edible morsels, the weak ones scatter. With bloody =



weapon in hand, I tear through the limbs. Cries of anguish filter =



through the land, echoing in the valley. Many have tried to come =



before me with effortless attempts. I sift my way through the fields =



of dead bodies, stopping to take a trophy or two.

=



The fields run deep and far, for I have killed many and I must =



travel far to reach my destination.

=



My final resting place, where I will be reborn. For now, the air is =



still, smell of dead bodies is ever so prevalent. I am the last and =



here I shall remain. The pain I have once felt is lifted from my =



being. Villages of useless waste, a race witch does not deserve to =



live. I reek havoc amongst the children from a present with no =



future,



For I am the strong and those who defy me lay in waste. The days of =



travel are long and the stench of how many I have killed lingers on.



I am tired and need rest, but the forces pulls me to my =



destination. =