Ron Shiflet

The realm of Bala-Norath was besieged on every side,
It soon became apparent that no help to them would ride.
Surrounded by the forces of an evil tyrant king,
Who was angered when a maiden to his realm they would not bring.

Demanding she be given up or all would meet their doom,
The defiant Lord of Bala-Norath brooded in his chamber room.
With great fear and a weary sigh he called upon a mage,
Eibon was the sorcerer, the greatest of the age.

The Lord of Bala-Norath vowed to pay whatever price,
To save his maiden daughter from unholy sacrifice.
Even if it meant his soul would writhe in some dark hell,
He steeled himself and said to Eibon, "Wizard cast thy spell."

The sky grew dark, the winds did howl and boulders split asunder,
Then demons swooped down from the clouds upon the heels of thunder.
The army of the tyrant king stood firm with spear and sword,
But were quickly decimated by the loathsome, demon horde.

The enraged tyrant saw his forces butchered in the field,
And while retreating cursed the vassal who refused to yield.
The Lord of Bala-Norath saw the carnage, death and gore,
And spoke to Eibon, "Wizard, what for me is now in store?"

The necromancer turned his gaze upon the lord's fair daughter,
And with an icy smile did ask, "What price for such a slaughter?"
But then he laughed, "Fear not old man. Look not so deathly pale.
You owe me not. I choose your side so justice will prevail."


© 1998 Edward P. Berglund
"Eibon and the Lord of Bala-Norath": © 1998 Ron Shiflet. All rights reserved.
Graphic © 1998 Old Arkham Graphics Design. All rights reserved. Email to: Corey T. Whitworth.

Created: July 1, 1998; Updated: August 9, 2004