Alone stands the weary warrior, sword lowered, sighing
Looking down at fresh graves in the sand of this cold shore
Her sword-companions have this bad habit of dying
Leaving her alone again once more

— Ed Greenwood (@TheEdVerse) January 12, 2018

It’s dark inside this dungeon, and the murk bears an unpleasant scent
Of rotting death, chopped human stew, and a hint of unwashed (goblin?) feet
Two rooms away, a swinging blade swings through its silent, deadly crescent
And we adventurers are ably killing our role of fresh meat

— Ed Greenwood (@TheEdVerse) January 13, 2018

On the doomday every last beast shall die
Every dragon turtle crushed in its shell
As each bone tumbles to dirt, to lie
Then peace at last, IF every one of them fell

— Ed Greenwood (@TheEdVerse) January 14, 2018