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SummaryEdit

An Omen is the recount of a Zenolian poet's sighting of The Harbinger.

An OmenEdit

Amongst my kind,

Encircled by an assemblage;

We gathered to perceive Kringe's rally,

If only we knew of our folly;

The Good Admiral imparted into view,

 And in dignity, he delivered his communique;

I took in the utterances,

And smirked in approval;

To canvass my compeers,

I surveyed each individual;

And then I construed Him,

The dour Onlooker...

Outlying amongst the crowd's penultima,

Was He, the Harbinger...

Lingering there, tall and occult,

He bleakly haunted us...

I heard cryptic beats generate from within me,

My hearts were on fire...

I realized why the Overseer subsisted before us,

'Twas an Omen,

An Omen of calamity...

My strong legs jittered and shook,

as if they were to crock up...

I dreadfully gazed toward the gloomy Upbringer,

But devoid from view, was He...

And so I kindled in awe,

and the morbid situation overtook me...

From the anterior, a screech pertruded,

So I looked onward...

And to my terror, a bounder pelted up toward Kringe,

and impaled the Good Admiral through his abdomen...

Lifeblood disgorged on stage,

And the Good Admiral fell to his knees...

The assemblage cried in rue,

And the malefactor was subdued...

But the damage had been enacted,

And a man lays mortalized in his bloodshed...

'Twas an Omen,

An Omen of calamity...

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