NECROMANCER

Standing abreast oblivion I scrutinize the sky.
Crooked Stave in hand,
Arcane words plainsong with wings I fly.
Winged propulsion on fluctuations of air,
Eyes so good they could almost tare.
Sharpness of sight picks out a place to land,
Webbed feet no more leather boots now stand.
Feathers a cloak fastened with a clasp,
Incantation centuries fused in ebony staff.
I walk or glide across fragrant green fields,
Arrows deluge stopped by invisible shield.
Crafted words that hurl crippling fire,
Tongues of energy ignite wooden spires.
Flames that cling crawl and bind,
Destroying everything eager to find.
Many leave my destructive force,
Clattering armor, hooves of horse.
None get far from hands that wield,
Protected, cocoon in a glowing shield.
People yield to the power that is mine,
Ritual sacrifices in a worshipping shrine.
No one dare challenge the power that is a gift,
Boots now plumes wind currents I drift.