The kings-turned-gods and their primordial ancestors

Only know what lurks inside that lair

Within the phantasmagorical walls

Depicting stucco monsters and devils

In ominous colors above the fire sconces

But behind every painting, inside every pipe,

And through every museum-like mock-up

Where entire worlds are contained within

Where the Dunsanian and the Lewisian collide

There be monsters strange and grotesque

Which thrive within every object-biosphere.

These worlds vary based on the villain’s foul designs

Whether as a bleak never-ending ocean

With a wide-reaching archipelago

Of piracy, villainy, and giant crustacean;

Or as an unforgivably hot lava world

Which situates beneath an overbearing volcano

And a sky red with the blood of war gods;

Or as an Alighierian hell-circle

Of eternal anguish among dead trees

That hang sorrow and burning fruit upon their branches.

Our heroes must brave these realms

To find the world-keys locked within

The chests or the creatures’ insides

In order to progress within the lair.

However, subversives who hate the villain

Will assist our heroes as companions

Since they know more about the lair

And its maze-corridors and traps.

When our heroes, who hail from

Many colors, nations, cultures, legends, and myths

Reach the very top of the lair

Betwixt the clouds and outer space

They slay the villain of many forms

Piggish, wolfish, hyena-ish, devilish

Who played them as gladiators

For his own playing-as-god pleasure

They rescue their kidnapped loved ones

Who knows how many wives, mothers, daughters,

And beloveds of those heroes brave and strong

Constitute the villain’s dungeons

To motivate them to confront him

What unfeeling gods would order him

To engage in such an unholy conflict

With our heroes of young and old?

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