[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.