Within the rings of hel,
The daemons dwell,

Ruled by the seven lords–
the daemon hordes.

Only shall you enter their realms
through twin rings, or brass bells.

But they shall abide no man, nor child, nor woman–
all mortals banned.

No sweet breath of air, or fresh drop of dew
from the mountains to the deserts to the oceans blue,
not one mortal, be they old or new.
They shall not abide by me, they shall not abide by you.
If we are caught, we shall die. That much is true.

What are they, the daemons of yore?
Who are their masters, who are their lords?
Too many questions asked, and many more
riddles given, but no absolutes, just wives tales and folk lore.

The King out of Darkness
within the shadow beckons.

In silence the dead one awaits us,
the Warrior of Two Worlds.

The Ashen Queen sits tirelessly
guarding the front gate,

While a Golden Spider
deftly plays with fate.

Stalking the river beds,
the Fisherman thirsts for blood.

A Virgin Red
makes men out of mud.

And a Father of Madness
bewitches the wary wanderer.

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