The Gathering of the Accursed Artifacts

From the mist of obscurity
Rises one desperate to be worthy
To inherit the mantle of sin
And from the twilight ascend
To the northern throne
Seeking and searching
A helm of terror, symbol of wickedness
His mask an emblem of his master
A cursed blade emanating corruption
His own Tyrfing, demands blood be spilt
A black shroud, the womb of night
Worn to conceal his sin
He screams for vengeance
For crimes all but unknown to him
Scattered into the winds of history
The accursed artifacts now gathered
Bound with the spirit of evil
Surge with unholy power
Terrible forces gnawing at his mind
Pushing him ever onwards
The path is clear, he has seen the revelation
He must apotheosize himself
To the northern throne
Seeking and searching
A final absolution dictated from forces unknowable
He is a tool, a vessel of darkness unfathomable
Create order by destruction
To snuff out the light of the stars
An ancient imperative
From times immemorial