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The Omen War: A Poetic Reflection

In twilight’s grasp, where shadows weave,
A tale of conflict, we now conceive.
Through centuries dark, the bloodlines clash,
The Tzimisce roar, while the Tremere thrash.

In the heart of Transylvania’s night,
The mages of Tremere sought power and might.
Their secrets stolen, from ancient lore,
In the Omen War, they yearned for more.

With each passing year, the battle did wane,
As mages grew weary, burdened by pain.
Their chantries crumbled, as foes drew near,
The echoes of magic fading in fear.

Etrius, with wisdom, pursued the arcane,
Transforming the Hermetic, forging the chain.
While Goratrix toiled in the shadows of dread,
With twisted ambitions that filled him with lead.

In laboratories dim, with ambition aflame,
He captured the Tzimisce, each one a name.
Nosferatu whispers, and Gangrel’s howls,
Echoed through halls, as the darkness prowls.

Years of experimentation, a dark, cruel dance,
Goratrix summoned the essence, took a chance.
In eleven twenty-one, from the ashes arose,
The Gargoyle born, with skin like a rose.

Not of flesh, but of fury, a creature of night,
A shock troop unleashed in the heart of the fight.
By twelve twenty-five, they surged through the fray,
Against the Fiends’ might, they brought forth dismay.

Yet what price for power, what cost for the crown?
As blood turned to battles, and friendships went down.
For each Gargoyle made, a soul was lost,
In the web of betrayal, they paid the cost.

Through the ages of conflict, where shadows now cast,
The Omen War raged, a storm unsurpassed.
With bloodlines entwined, and fates intertwined,
The echoes of history remain unconfined.

So remember the mages, their struggles, their strife,
In the dance of the undead, the struggle for life.
For in every creation, a story is spun,
Of power, of loss, and battles not won.

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