The Vampire's Canto
A World of Draconica poem
Oh, I’ll tell you a tale, a tale I’ll tell
Of pain and misery.
Be warned, fair reader, this fable told
True horror will you see.
Our story begins so long ago
In Romano the land of dark.
It follows a man, a handsome man
Dracan of House Bathorula.
A finer Lord you’ll never see
And a husband too.
And soon a father he’d also be
His life felt so renewed.
But cursed be the Romano land
And joy can never thrive.
For inside Dracan an evil festered
That would soon take his life.
No medicine cure, no doctors thoughts
And nowhere else to turn.
He ventured deep into the woods
To find the Witch of Kilenburne.
The Witch she sat and heard his words
And said “To heal you I agree.
But for this gift there will be a cost
If thoust so agree.”
Lord Bathorula nodded, no questions asked
And the witch did cast her spell.
But only then did the cost she speak
His heir would be the toll.
A chill went down the young Lord’s spine
But the deal it had been forged.
The Witch did promise a terrible curse
If he betrayed his word.
Pay heed dear reader, let this be
A warning you hear this day.
If dark magic you wish to deal
Then a price you’d better pay.
But the Lord refused to honour his side
Of the bargain he had made.
With pockets deep of silver and gold
He bought ten men and blades.
The men they hunted down the Witch
And were lustful with their blades.
Only when they had had their fill
Did they end the Witch’s pain.
The Witch she screamed a final curse
And her soul she made the cost.
The Lord would be spared the touch of death
But those he loved would be lost.
Bathorula was cured, but there was no respite
And the curse stormed forth with rage.
His wife, she birthed a pool of blood
And her soul passed on dismayed.
A plague put his people to sleep
Never to wake again.
Only the Lord was left to bare
The consequences of his shame.
He looked inside the darkness praying
That hope still there be.
But when he gazed into the abyss
Only madness did he see.
But Bathorula laughed a hearty laugh
And exclaimed with bloody glee.
He said “If Madness be my whore
Then a wife I’ll make of thee.”
He drank the curse like perfect wine
And dined on blood and bone.
From that day Dracan had died
The Vampire was born.
But though immortal he was still man
And hunger never sates.
Soon he desired to gorge himself
On power of the greats.
With an army of blood and eyes of death
He took the Romano throne.
And so it has been as it has that day
Over one thousand years ago.
And that is a tale, a tale I told
Of pain and misery.
All hail to thee Lord Bathorula
Our Tyrant Ruler be he.
Of pain and misery.
Be warned, fair reader, this fable told
True horror will you see.
Our story begins so long ago
In Romano the land of dark.
It follows a man, a handsome man
Dracan of House Bathorula.
A finer Lord you’ll never see
And a husband too.
And soon a father he’d also be
His life felt so renewed.
But cursed be the Romano land
And joy can never thrive.
For inside Dracan an evil festered
That would soon take his life.
No medicine cure, no doctors thoughts
And nowhere else to turn.
He ventured deep into the woods
To find the Witch of Kilenburne.
The Witch she sat and heard his words
And said “To heal you I agree.
But for this gift there will be a cost
If thoust so agree.”
Lord Bathorula nodded, no questions asked
And the witch did cast her spell.
But only then did the cost she speak
His heir would be the toll.
A chill went down the young Lord’s spine
But the deal it had been forged.
The Witch did promise a terrible curse
If he betrayed his word.
Pay heed dear reader, let this be
A warning you hear this day.
If dark magic you wish to deal
Then a price you’d better pay.
But the Lord refused to honour his side
Of the bargain he had made.
With pockets deep of silver and gold
He bought ten men and blades.
The men they hunted down the Witch
And were lustful with their blades.
Only when they had had their fill
Did they end the Witch’s pain.
The Witch she screamed a final curse
And her soul she made the cost.
The Lord would be spared the touch of death
But those he loved would be lost.
Bathorula was cured, but there was no respite
And the curse stormed forth with rage.
His wife, she birthed a pool of blood
And her soul passed on dismayed.
A plague put his people to sleep
Never to wake again.
Only the Lord was left to bare
The consequences of his shame.
He looked inside the darkness praying
That hope still there be.
But when he gazed into the abyss
Only madness did he see.
But Bathorula laughed a hearty laugh
And exclaimed with bloody glee.
He said “If Madness be my whore
Then a wife I’ll make of thee.”
He drank the curse like perfect wine
And dined on blood and bone.
From that day Dracan had died
The Vampire was born.
But though immortal he was still man
And hunger never sates.
Soon he desired to gorge himself
On power of the greats.
With an army of blood and eyes of death
He took the Romano throne.
And so it has been as it has that day
Over one thousand years ago.
And that is a tale, a tale I told
Of pain and misery.
All hail to thee Lord Bathorula
Our Tyrant Ruler be he.
Authors Note: Dracan Bathorula – aka The Vampire – is the ruler of the country Romano, from the Republic of Garmany, of which he has ruled since the year 1600 OE. No information is known about this tyrants past prior to him taking power in Romano. This poem is the only known hint towards his past – but the author is unknown and the facts stated here cannot be verified. It’s unknown if this was even written by a Romanon at all – the cantos and rhythm seem to suggest Celtland origins.