iv. b. ode to the A.

The pawns of the enemy loom ahead of you.

Minions of the Burning Blade they are, wielding their various implements of destruction -- scimitars, daggers, rapiers, and the like. They are ready.

Are you?

You stare into their bloodthirsty and frenzied eyes, which are no longer welling up with virtue and righteousness, but instead lifeless and exhausted. They have surrended their destiny to the nether.

Have you?

The king has decreed that you would lead his elité forces to quell the uprising. His hopes are on you. The nation's fate lies with you. The supreme monarch is decided by you.

Can you?

iv. a. Llama.

I was once a treehouse, I lived in a cake;
but I never saw the way the orange slayed the rake;
I was only three years dead, but I told a tale;
and now listen, little child, to the safety rail.

It was never meant to be.