‘A bane-god on our woeful land now strides,
with outland ghosts, that at its bidding fight;
yet even these to bane-king hateful might
our hopeless home prefer; for king will spend
our children out as feed for his defence;
such king no king should be, nor shall he last,
if strength we gathered, links we secret forged,
will serve us now. For now our lives we free,
or now our wretched thralldom ends in death.’
From Book XIII of Cosmic Warlord Kin-Bright.
