Tales from the Dark Caves

The Knight of Storms

Battered by wars great and godly came a knight bold

On a charger most majestic and hardly controlled.

From his neck he unclasped a wreath wrought in gold

And from his back fell a cape as ancient as fathers old.

To the skies he offered this, a piece of his battered soul.

And to the clouds he did proclaim,

 "Gods of the world dark and cold,

You I challenge to a race.

To whoever can match my wicked pace,

And if not, I shall rule in your place." 

And from the heavens came laughter joyfully heartless and with glee.

 "You, a rusting, war-battered knight,

You dare to challenge me?

I take up your offer, foolish knight,

But this is at my decree.

You shall race me from this mountain here,

To the edge of the shining sea!" 

The knight's chest did swell and beam. He asked, 

"But can I bring my steed?" 

To which the god laughed with the wind's howling plead.

"Agreed,"

 Said he,

"But on one condition.

Should you choose to lose this mission,

I will have that steed."

 The charger pranced and bucked and at the earth he pawed.

At his whipping reins the knight heartfully clawed.

The charger nervously nickered before the great god

That descended ever nearer, at the rain's roaring applaud.

"My steed!"

Over the wind the knight screamed.

"My mount,

My horse,

My company?"

"Object, does thee?" 

The god of storms did truly sneer

In the face of the knight's growing fear.

 But the knight hid it well and gave only a leer.

In the face of the titan, he cheered,

"I adhere! I adhere!"

  Facing the bloodied sun boldly they stood,

The knight on his mount and the god on his godhood.

The lightning cracked and splintered what could,

And off were knight and god into the wood.

The quick charger chased the quicker wind.

The god roared ahead, destined to win.

But the steed charged with speed that made worlds spin,

And the hot burn of shame touched his now mortal skin.

 Through the underbrush the Knight of Storms crashed,

The rumble of hooves followed by lightning flash.

Onto the briny beach the knight and his steed dashed,

The god on his heels. In rage he did thrash!

The hooves met the sea with a sickening crash,

And the roar of the waves greeted him,

"Black ash!

The dark steed rides like the booming skies.

For him, the clouds dance wildly with light.

And for you, brave knight,

Your godhood be granted.

And for the god, mortality planted.

"Of victory let this realm sing.

Of prosperity let this race bring.

Of the skies, you are called king!

And Thunder is the name of your steed." 

Throughout the land the rumbles were heard,

In taverns warm the story was shared.

And with time, everyone had heard word,

Of the god of storms and his steed called Thunder.