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Date Posted: 08:38:36 03/31/01 Sat
Author:
..a.e.r.o.f.i.r.e..
Author Host/IP: 205.188.199.164
Subject:
..danger..


It was a chilled, winter night
Just outside a gloomy wood
There before you stood such a sight
Like a shadow he stood
His pelt of the darkest black
His eyes scornfully glistening like fire
They taunt you with what you lack
And brandish his hot courage and high desire
No horro like this have you ever seen
Nothing matches this acheing fear
For there before you like a living dream
Stood your worse nightmare...

...Contrived from the womb of the devil's daughter, concocted from the fire of Horus's blaze, a soul was born...
...Night, it was a gelid, somber night. No scintillating stars dare bare their celestial glow that night. Winter, it was on the verge of being born once again, its breath glacial and acrid. The leaves of autumn once vibrant and conflagrant at day, now quavering into the air like unpercievable silhouettes, compelled by the wind's merciless wrath. Lit by the vague coruscation that the moon dare luminance through the obscuring clouds, was her empyrean configuration, the opal luster overpowering the dark's conjuration. Inside her, was an entity, striving for the mere breath of air it had been preparing for. Its plaintive cry could no longer be disregarded, and the celestial siren declined, ready to engage in the portent of birth. A prince was born. Into a world so polar, so tenebrous he arrived, a world that soon resembled the creature he became. And then, with innate intentions flooding his mind, plaguing him with the thought of survival, upward the raven elevated upon ungainly limbs, moist lambrums fumbling for the milk-bearing objects that this mentor would provide him with. These only provided him with food for a while, for this angelic dam of his soon was condemned to the beatific lands she was born in, desolating the coaled mage to the immoral world she had first brought him to. For years, he sought sanctuary in the only place he had come to know, the dark. Meeching in the lands of beasts devised from pure diabolism he acquired his personality; malicious, vindictive and pugnacious. All these words built this swarth Satan, and what made him even more potent? The instinct for one thing, something that everyone can go their whole lives dominated by it, and never really know what it is, survival. He moils to thrive, yet can conduct if he doesn't. After many more years, he had become, what is known as a legend. His progeny is of the most prestige, and the most successful; and his enemies the most baleful. So beware, the slate Lucifer has arrived...

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