The lord of all that he sees, of all that may decay. <br />The smell of death and bloodshed washes over him, but that is no different. <br />Sitting atop his throne of bone, the bones of all that have dared to stand before him, but why the death, why the decay? Why do they continue to challenge him, and why cant they succeed? <br />Because fate ends in new life, and this simple fact restricts him. <br />For how can new life be made if fate cannot be ended? <br />This is what haunts him, this is what brings fear to his still-working eye, this is why the dermimancer must feed. <br />For he is Baal, the wheel of fortune. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />(Sidenote: Baal is pronounced Bale, like hay.)<br /><br />Jak Stark<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/baal/
