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Deep in Doom Dungeon in Malas.
I discovered the Gods were quite Callous.
I have spent many years grinding and with sadness only finding,
bonecrushers, taskmasters, and dieing.....
Endless poem of doom stood still,
As did the raven upon my window seal.
So I pondered this rhyme,
To help pass some time.
Sitting alone in my room,
With a never ending poem of doom.
From dusk till dawn,
Through night and shade.
May it never be gone.
May it never fade.
The raven then fled,
And I entered my bed.
Forever to dream,
Because, I was dead.
a miner toils and toils for the ore
until at last he succumbs to a cold knife twist or a random explosion or an e-bolt
toiling and toiling as an angry spirit; toiling at the wasted time and the hate filled words of his murderers;
now resurrected; the miner still angry toils and toils, until at last he realizes revenge and the ore that can be used