Arcanis the Omnipotent

A Poem About Arcanis

         The rough oaken handle splintered my hand
         As I struggled with my barrow
         My feet cleaving in the mud with every step I managed to make
         Yet my senses were blessed
         By the fragrant smell of fresh cut hay
         That early fall morning

         I could hear a horse's hooves squishing
         As it trudged through soft, drenched earth
         My bones chilled by the wind
         An ominous haze began to settle on the town
         All seemed commonplace
         All but one
         Strange
         Thing

         An old woman
         A farmer's wife
         Deemed mad by the magistrate
         Ran in from the forest minutes before
         Crying witchcraft
         And flailing her arms

         "A wizard," she cried, "Or a demon.
         He is coming for us!
         He wears a hood, that hides his face
         And has bright blue flames for hands!"
         "Dipping into the cider a bit early," Chortled a man
         And all went about their business, as did I

         My stomach growled like a beast
         As lunch time came round
         I stopped off at the pub
         For a bite and a pint
         When yet another thing
         Rather aberrant occurred

         A great blast of thunder shook the pub
         The whole company, publican and all
         Dashed outside to prepare for an oncoming gale
         But our eyes were not cursed by rain
         No.
         They were bewildered.
         By something wholly different from a storm

         The townsfolk whispered
         As though telling secrets
         But all who had eyes could see
         Off in the distance, by the forest's edge
         There stood a man, I think
         It was hard to tell

         Clad in a cloak, furrowed and white
         His visage blackened by shadow, beneath a hood
         He had vivid, glowing blue eyes
         His hands veiled by sleeves too long for his arms
         He strode forward, seeming to glide with each step
         Halting
         Raising his arms
         And the townsfolk fell silent

         The townsfolk fell silent.
         All
             but
                      one.
         "The wizard!" cried the farmer's wife
         "The demon! He is here!"

         A look of fury came across the being's eyes
         He lowered his arms, and a great wind came up
         I could taste the dust kicked up by his gale
         When the tale of the Farmer's wife
         Proved to be far more true
         Than we had ever expected

         Dusky clouds covered the sky
         And where his hands should have been
         Great, brilliant flames of azure eldritch light
         Burst forth from his arms
         And cracked, like lightning
         Leaving a stench of static on the air

         He directed these flames of light at the farmer's wife
         She fell to the ground, and went languid
         Those braver men ran out to her to see if her heart still beat
         Yet the rest of us cowered in fear
         One brave soul, the local blacksmith
         Walked forward and asked, "Who are you?
         What is it you want here?"

         

         At last he spoke,
         In an eerie
         Distant
         Hollow voice

         "Beings of this land, you need not fret
         I come here not for you."
         He gazed up at the sky
         His flames died down
         And disappeared
         As he seemed to wait.

         "What is your name," Said the smith.
         "Tell us, or we will drive you out."
         The being looked at him, and spoke in his hollow voice
         "Do not concern yourself
         With my origin, my race, or my ancestry."
         He raised his arms, as the base of his cloak began to glow blue

         He began to rise up toward the sky
         Turning his gaze upward again
         He hovered high
         And another great clap of thunder shook the village
         When a gargantuan beast appeared from the clouds
         Obsidian skin, and a maw of countless teeth, flew toward the being

         "Seek my records in the pits," he said
         "And then
         make
         Your
         Wager."