A poem about: Tiverswell once prospering port town abundant bustling alive, the year1485. glories now in ashes flames unroll, the night consumed by chaos death lost souls, bedlamthe invisible barrier that separates worlds realms suddenly shatters disappears is no moreportals suddenly open abyss realms collide ghastly beasts demons monsters wraiths fiends on stallion legs with lizard hide wielding lances and pole axes their laugh a cruel echo in the dark the moon and stars blood red hulking demonic knights clad in ebon plated armor glowing yellow eyes faces dark red snout wielding wielding swords and axes and enormous hammers of war nude forms of the succubi soaring through the night air giant bat like wings harlots of hell mix of beauty profane sharp teeth whip-like tails sucking out souls other abominations appear as well roars growls death plunder blood rot screams crying fires ash in the midst of the destruction and loss a solitary figure emerges his mighty sword lopping off the heads of demons and monsters left and right his vibrant blue eyes long wheat colored hair somersaulting through the air evading dodging attacks swords lances axes hammers and orbs of hellfire none collide he's too fast agile and strong his name Anselm Casey, a former knight of The Order of the Lancers of Dawn, now a mercenary. dauntless swift his blade deadly black ichor flows from the wounds of his slain foes the fires of Tiverswell, mighty Anselm saves who he can and continues to fight

Tiverswell once prospering port town abundant bustling alive, the year1485. glories now in ashes flames unroll, the night consumed by chaos death lost souls, bedlamthe invisible barrier that separates worlds realms suddenly shatters disappears is no moreportals suddenly open abyss realms collide ghastly beasts demons monsters wraiths fiends on stallion legs with lizard hide wielding lances and pole axes their laugh a cruel echo in the dark the moon and stars blood red hulking demonic knights clad in ebon plated armor glowing yellow eyes faces dark red snout wielding wielding swords and axes and enormous hammers of war nude forms of the succubi soaring through the night air giant bat like wings harlots of hell mix of beauty profane sharp teeth whip-like tails sucking out souls other abominations appear as well roars growls death plunder blood rot screams crying fires ash in the midst of the destruction and loss a solitary figure emerges his mighty sword lopping off the heads of demons and monsters left and right his vibrant blue eyes long wheat colored hair somersaulting through the air evading dodging attacks swords lances axes hammers and orbs of hellfire none collide he's too fast agile and strong his name Anselm Casey, a former knight of The Order of the Lancers of Dawn, now a mercenary. dauntless swift his blade deadly black ichor flows from the wounds of his slain foes the fires of Tiverswell, mighty Anselm saves who he can and continues to fight

In Tiverswell, where once the tide
Brought ships of promise far and wide,
The year of 1485—
A bustling port, so full of life.

But now the flames, they scorch and roll,
As chaos claims each wretched soul.
The night consumed, as barriers thin,
Bedlam's breath lets beasts storm in.

Portals gape, the realms collide;
Fiends descend with cruel, dark pride.
Mounts of scales, their laughter cold,
Lances raised, their stories told.

Under a moon of blood-red sway,
Demonic knights with eyes ablaze,
Clad in armor, shadows spread,
Wielding fear in every thread.

With succubi that grace the air,
Bat-like wings, a wicked flair;
They dance with beauty, profane art,
Stripping away the human heart.

Amidst the chaos, roars, and screams,
Where all seemed lost in blood-laced dreams,
A figure stands, a beacon bright,
Anselm Casey, the last true knight.

His sword a flash of ruthless might,
Black ichor flows in endless night;
With eyes of blue and hair like wheat,
He dances swift, enemy's defeat.

Slices deft through hellish mores,
Leaving darkness on the floors;
A former Lancer, now alone,
In Tiverswell, he guards his own.

His valor in a land unsealed,
In fire's embrace, a fate revealed,
Amidst the ruins, hope ignites—
Anselm stands where dark meets light.

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In Tiverswell, where once the tide Brought ships of promise far and wide, The year of 1485— A bustling port, so full of life. But now the flames, they scorch and roll, As chaos claims each wretched soul. The night consumed, as barriers thin, Bedlam's breath lets beasts storm in. Portals gape, the realms collide; Fiends descend with cruel, dark pride. Mounts of scales, their laughter cold, Lances raised, their stories told. Under a moon of blood-red sway, Demonic knights with eyes ablaze, Clad in armor, shadows spread, Wielding fear in every thread. With succubi that grace the air, Bat-like wings, a wicked flair; They dance with beauty, profane art, Stripping away the human heart. Amidst the chaos, roars, and screams, Where all seemed lost in blood-laced dreams, A figure stands, a beacon bright, Anselm Casey, the last true knight. His sword a flash of ruthless might, Black ichor flows in endless night; With eyes of blue and hair like wheat, He dances swift, enemy's defeat. Slices deft through hellish mores, Leaving darkness on the floors; A former Lancer, now alone, In Tiverswell, he guards his own. His valor in a land unsealed, In fire's embrace, a fate revealed, Amidst the ruins, hope ignites— Anselm stands where dark meets light.