Earthen bone ground asunder,
Oil sac torn from a dragon's gullet,
Mummified remains of a banshee,
Eye of a king behemoth,
Sulphuric ash of a shriveled phoenix,
Spun together into a golden web,
Wrought in brilliant sapphires,
Gleaming like a lions eye.
A sword of magnified proportion,
With a reinforced blade,
Three inches in diameter,
Able to slice through the toughest of metals,
Legendary adamantine.
Designed for the demon lord,
Crafted by ancient artisans,
Deep beneath the earth's surface,
Where molten rock mixes and churns,
Breaking up the rocky soil.
Acids of torment singe it's sheathe,
Bathed in the blood of a harpy,
War-worn from fierce combat,
A battle that'll be heard,
Throughout the ages.
Only the demon king can wield this blade,
It has the power to drain life force,
From whosoever touches it's handle,
A sword of unparalleled power,
That could shatter a sword with a single blow,
Devouring the soul that it carries within.
Ancient scrolls are all that remain,
The sword in question has never been found,
Sargoth's blade, was it real, or just a legend,
We will never know,
The power it may hold.
The prophesies state that,
When the world falls into darkness,
The demon lord will come forth,
From the bowls of the earth,
Wielding the mighty blade,
killing hundreds in it's path.
Lay the world to waste,
Scattering lost souls about,
Until Armageddon begins,
The end of the world is coming,
And there is no stopping it.
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