Nightmare
The Doom Drum takes form.
Bright-Hewer, descendant of the Mages-Under-Ice. Kingship do you bear, eldest son of passed King Hrewldrum, in sworn vassalage to the majestic son of the invincible Ysmir. Coronation of your furrowed brow, hoary and ageless at once may bear your majesty all lordship. The realm will provide tribute as bespoken by the voices of man, the realm will provide arms when rallied under the twin red banners, the realm will never partake in hostile actions against benevolent overlordship-across-the-sea.
An age passes. The Doom Drum turns and beats a different form.
Nine blessings on you, King Cassivelogenos, first of his name.
One-Eighth blessing to your crown. May it splinter and crack your addled mind.
One-Eighth blessing to your feasting table in all it's majesty. May your ale spill and meat spoil evermore.
One-Eighth blessing to the noble palaces. May all your work crumble and be forgotten.
One-Eighth blessing to the realm of Atmoriantry. May your people drown.
One-Eighth blessing to the valiant spirit of war. May your spear be forever shattered and spirit destroyed.
One-Eighth blessing to the Ashen Usurper, the serpent rides with he. May his voice bring darkness to your people.
One-Eighth blessing to all the realms of man, the true favored and predestined to eternity. May your kin never know Sovngarde.
One-Eighth blessing to the chains that bind, slavery to your kin. May your people's day never dawn.
Ninth blessing to TALOS, the herald of your doom.