Kegiz Gavem Travails of Makada

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In times of yore, in Iron bound, an Age of Ruin, the Fourth undone.
There rose a tide of savage tribes, of Orcs and Goblins slaying scribes.
Felling stelae, burning home, their arms too mighty, free to roam.
In ancient towns were only death, bloodied under snorting breath.
Trampled under filthy feet, toppling every marble seat.
Unspoken forefather's name, corpses lay astrewn to maim.

Her legs both broken after raid, crawled forth a despoiled maid.
Hair burnt off and flesh a crisp, no tongue even left to lisp.
Hiding 'mong the husks of kin, finding infant starving thin.
Makada took him as her son, giving milk while eating none.
Holding boy so hardly grip'd, on single arm she crawled and slip'd.
Miles and miles through ash and dust, over cliffs in windy gust.

Hiding deep mid bramble-thorn, wounds afresh and tendons torn.
Makada hugged Grumaz up close, bearing future Ras through lows.
Her pious form wild beasts would shun, and Goblin scouts the Light did stun.
Sparing both for shouldering pain, their suffering relieved by rain.
Caked in mud she reached strong walls, open gate the watcher calls!
Dying sheltered carved she rune, for fallen Mountains of the Moon.

- The Travails of Makada