An ancient king of stone did sit aloft,

A Throne of Thorns his stony seat.

For ages he had dreamed and wept,

longing of days to simply meet

phantoms of joy his heart did oft recall,

though none could pierce his armor hard.



Steel pins and claims of crowns did thrall,

pretenders who his rule would mar.

Their blades like pins could not assail,

crushed were they by brambles frail.



The thorns which moved at his gesture so slight,

dispatching any who his throne would tempt.

Though long he sat in dreaming's light,

none could his stony seat ascend.



Not steel but sorrow cracked his hide so stern,

as phantoms fled and none now left to learn

the name of he who ruled so forlorn.

Empty at last, his Throne of Thorns.



(Map size is intended to be 40x40 5ft squares)