 Terror Reckons, Treasure Beckons
by periodicage
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Terror’s precipice is the highest peak, each crevice concealed by its mightiest mystique. Deep runs the recess into the interior, seeping into pieces that are far inferior.
Lurking in troves discarded lies the hulking wurm, shirking not its duty to guard spoils earned. Much lies unclaimed and much is yearned, yet such a prize tamed most who learned.
Those emphatic chose not to heed, frozen in dramatic pose for their greed. Happy are few who return to its Valley; those who do, discern Advent’s gallery.
For true treasure lies not in a glacial cave, but in a brew of eggnog and coldness staved. Beyond the snow and sleet lies a warm, glowing retreat.
Behold a house of cards waiting to be scratched, gold awarded for three symbols matched. But one blunder is what it takes, luck torn asunder and all that’s at stake.
Supine skies call for a pause in this game; time flies as denizens return to when they came. Many choose to ride on the funicular, slow as Glyme it runs perpendicular.
As gears turn without cause or concern, years both good and bad are harder to discern. Breathtaking is the view from here, songs and baking without peer.
A dome of ice, comprised of bluish hues, serves as home for a Faerie muse. Quests can wait another day, best not to be late for a place to stay.
Destination now close at hand, fascination so too must come to an end. It was in error that this mount was named Terror, so if it’s adventure that you seek,
Look no further than this peak.
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