XII
LYCAN
Revenant II
Lucius in his form of a fiend,
Distinguisheth not a foe nor a friend
In fury he trapped the head of the Priest
Almost crushing his skull with his fist.
The cunning aged Priest anticipated
That the chains ordained by the league of saints
Are as the straw to a beast not debilitated.
Breaking shackles and anything that restrains.
Before all this
He drank of his apothecaries.
A potion to harden his mortal shell,
In any plight that might not go well.
He revealed a small syringe from his cloak
And struck it in its veins
The Lycan halted in his amok.
And his violent grip gradually wanes.