[The Antediluvian Oracle:] And so it was written, that rage would carry him like a howling wind, leaving only frozen corpses, Their bones rattling in hollow armour, to tell their tale in his wake.
[The Black Mariner:] Behold, my blackened, grim and gory axe, the searing glow of trenchant steel. I'll notch another widow to my haft, and wreak red vengeance 'cross the waves. Tales of black-sailed argosies, bedeviled by base treachery!
[The Antediluvian Oracle:] His gaze is as fire, his words are as spear-points, his voice is as thunder, his touch as the plague!
[The Black Mariner:] Storm-prow cleaving, dragon rending, nighted deeps far, far below, Hail-scur scouring, sea devouring, sunken realm's ethereal glow.
[The Antediluvian Oracle:] And one night, there came a storm, a storm with searing red winds. Fire and steel rode within it, and vengeance writ in thunder and blood!
[The Black Mariner:] Down sixty fathoms, from stygian coral-clad tombs, the pitiless abyssal sea disgorges its shambling mold-mottled dead, Dank innards blackly acoil with nests of slithering things! Ghosts aglide upon the eldritch seas, unfathomed voyage to ascendancy, Traitorous blood, the surf roils red, churning crimson, thrice-cursed dead.
[The Antediluvian Oracle:] 'Tis enough that men might dream of being kings without aspiring to the power of gods.