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Lords Of the Fae
So Many yet so few
But this Tale Shall Not Sing
with the Voices of many
But the Voice of one

This Song will tell the tale
Of one of the most dreaded amoung us

The Gremlin King
Eyes Cold as the winnters sun
With a Taste for his own
Much as those he rules
They Bid there will
Hoping for some of his
Yet in The End
They Merely Join The horde
Formed of those who before
did the same, and Played the fool.

His Hair Home to the pixies
And Lost wingless fairies
Who've been fallen by those whom he comsued

His flesh pale as the snows
at winnters end
while His mind is as dark
as moonless nights
which houses a thousand young
who dwell upon idle thoughts and dreams
And By his will They spread
to each of his foe, so they may be fell
By there Own Vices, and Stupidity.

But even without his followers
His Strength is Renown
For Each Time Those who dare
Disbatch him, He Rises again from the abyss.
The Deeper he Is Pushed,
The Harder His Blows land Upon his return.
Untill Those Who Dare
Have Drowned in the abyss,
unto which he is continualy Cast.

Yet When he Returns He laughs
and smiles about the trip of return
As if The evil bothers him not
Yet still very few can even notice
The dark touch that lingers in his eyes
Scars from The things He sees

but When he is Given the time
to rest and Heal, The Wounds Inflicted By those
Whos Fear his hunger, His Lust
He stands in the robes of the light
For He is Still Kin to Fae
and Though he and His Followers
are The darker Amoung Us
They Still stand on Our side
All The while Toying with his kin amoung Humanity
They May Hinder and Help
Play and Fight In the same Breath

He Rules Over halls of Devours, Trickters, and Fiends
Though he Plays with shadows, like Toys
He Is No Fool, Near unto The Gods in his own right
Held to his word, By his own boilding blood
Sworn to protect the wounded, from those who linger
born of nightmares long forgoton.
He Acts with Pure intent for those he is indiffrent
Hates Strongly those who cross him
Kind to those who dont.
Honesty, the reason he is most dreaded.

But that appearance May Be his Greatest prank
For when he Chooses to play the Fool, the Lair, the Cheat.
He Seems Born for the role
The King Who never stood as a Prince
But always a Lord Amoung His own
Noble and Honnorible, as a Theif at market
Looking to feed, Himself or his greed
we cannot be sure,But Of what we can be
Is this Lord, Knows More than he sees
and Sees more than he knows

The Gremlin King
A Son and Brother
to Fae and Human alike
Yet Neither and Both
a Mortal Paradox
Wrapped In the mattle of the gods
His favor, and Oath Priceless
But without a value

Oh Dreaded King,
Are You Turly the Beast we see?
Or merely the one holding the leash?
Or Are You Not of Our Coil?