In lands where strife doth ever brightly burn,
Dwells he, the "Undying Warlord," whose concern
Is fixed upon the elins, creatures fair,
Whose antics light his heart beyond compare.
When once these sprites in merry play do roam,
He chants aloud with joy, "HA HA!" to foam,
And with his flying kicks doth swiftly chase,
Each bounding step a lover's eager race.
Yet should these tender beings craft with spell,
In circles 'mongst their kin where magics dwell,
He vaults the heavens with a warrior's grace,
And twice descends, their giddy minds to daze.
Though fervent is his quest for friendship's tie,
His presence close can oftentimes belie.
Still, noble in his zest, too near he draws,
The Undying Warlord with no gentle pause.
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