Angband

A million orcs once swarmed from the gates of this place. Men and elves have met their fates here. Crowned in thunder, a dark god named Morgoth hammered his name across the land in rhunes of smoke and fire.
Day after day, I cast the dice, and their numbers always added up to this.
Iron gauntlets, a horned helmet, filed teeth, a smoke-grey battle axe covered in the blood of trolls-I stalk the halls of Angband. At the end of every corridor, my own death awaits. Yesterday i made love to a harpy and avoided the gaze of Medusa herself. Still, the monsters come. Today, it is orcs, flaming arrows, and pitch black corridors. Forever in a dragon ship, forever under fire, forever swinging an axe at the knees of an opponent or nicking then with an envenomed sword. My wits are sharp but my soul is mummy dust. I long for a peaceful night on the sandy beach, enemies vanquished, wine flask extinguished, moon at full mast. That is not for me. I am haunted, alive and dead at the same time. The labyrinth, it beckons again.

A lament for Stormbringer

I have forgotten what it is like, the experience of not having this black sword at my side. On my hip, in my hand, swung two-handed in an arc over my head. It is the source of so much strength, yet it will be the death of me. Dragons, tall ships. doomed princesses and even-more-doomed cities, it has doomed them all. Doom.