“Very well, I accept this challenge”
The white figure steps in front of the device, sliding in as the Black Bard moves away. His white raiment shivers and coalesces around him. His mouth is barely visible through the incandescence of his face.
He dispenses with the pleasantries and…
“The land is ravaged deep and wide
But the darkness shall find no respite
For time turns
The flame burns
Auguring the onset of the Light
The dusk shall be brushed aside.
Just a while, this hour of empty night;
Devoid of trust, diffusing despair.
But like a dust mote
The Shadow is smote.
No power can possibly compare
To the song of the brilliant White.
No tower stands firm to speak our side
None such constructs we require.
And rains down cleansing fire
Upon the ebbing gloom's tide
A song of steel and untold strength
A gleaming ray for dying men
A beacon beyond Death’s ken.
A tale stretching beyond time’s length.
Forgiveness is the choral strain,
Pure the emotion.
Poetry in motion.
Redemption fashions the refrain.
The lost are granted guiding rope,
The hurt feel
Wounds do heal.
Their souls are aflame with hope.”
The White Songmage steps back, his iridescence slowly diminishing as his song ends. His voice returns to its normal, softer note.
“Do you dare to make a rejoinder?”