There is a symphony outside his door, metal against metal, sword against sword, yes, a harsh, rhythmic sound that lovingly placates his ancient soul. Twink thwink thiwnk, a fimiliar tune, one he hears often from a rather disappointingly common distance, in time, he nods his head along. The rhythm grows stronger, louder, more confident, Thwink tink, thwink tink, twink tink. Ah yes, he loves this particular beat, just like the sound of his own heart! he thinks, and in untamable passion his throat burns. Darkness prevails, his eyes slide closed, the strong vibrato grates against his weathered bones.

Twink! Thwink! Thwink! CHANK!

The jarring sound raises within him something beastial. His irritation turns tightly in his belly like smoke, swirls murkily behind his eyelids and clouds a thickness in his airways, at once, he exhales pure illumination. Earthly stars, possessions, twinkle in the presence of his breath and his annoyance alternates with a long-born pride. Yes, this too, is a kind of music, he thinks, music to the eyes of the unsuspecting mortal soul. Dazzling. Enchanting. Deadly. He has been called many things.

Clink chink thwink tink!, Oh, this song is far more prominent than he has heard it in decades, centuries perhaps. He wonders, in a shiver of unbridled excitement, if tonight the music might finally reach him. How long it had been since this place was filled with song and dance? Too long! Far too long! Such an amiable connoisseur of artistry deserves a tribute of symphony!

ThwinkthwnkithwnkTWINK!CHINK!CHINK!

Alas, the entertainer arrives! Not even the most skilled of musicians could sing a song so prideful as he, oh, he who comes in the name of glory and righteousness! My! What a sound! His heart is alight as the fire that burns in his soul! The ground shakes and he raises his voice to match the trilling vocals of his virtuous guest, a rumble, a roar! Oh how he has waited, waited to hear the song of mortal sword again!

Dance! Dance now, they must, a strike and a spit, Finally! He bellows, a partner worth the toiling title of Champion! How many years has it been since the metal step of man implored his soul so, oh, a day of the blessed saint! Surely, there is a beast in this room not himself!

Sh-chink! Ah, there is no word for the music born to clashing pride, of mortals turned to face the cordial arrangement of destiny, for their metals are forged in the bellies of beasts and they tell songs in tongues even the gods find foreign.

Listen, he sings!

“Oh! He who knows the song I have so longed wished to hear, come plunge your instrument deep into the untouched reaches of my soul! Many times I have been conductor to the chords of death, but never once have I borne it myself! Could it be as symphonious as mortal demise? Glorious! Yes! In this song of matrimonious fire and sword, hero, I live to die!”