Erringtide

Seven skulls sit side-by-side

atop the wall of Erringtide.

Their salted sockets watch the wide

expanse of waves within which hide

the devils Marax, sixes each

who’d seek to storm the sandy beach

and scale the ramparts, rent a breach,

the Prince of Erringtide to reach.

The skulls, they whistle low and still

with landborne winds across their sill

while readied for the war, they will

enjoy the breeze of peace until

their vigil finds the day has come

when they must raise their voices dumb

and all of Erringtide shall thrum

with bowstrings and the devil drum.

Keep watch, O heads of ancient lore

protect the Prince’s pristine shore.

The seas are near and ever more

would seek to wage a devil’s war.

Defend with all your ken of grave

the Prince to whom the old king gave

you charge. Now watch in every wave

from which will come the need to save.