With a roar that strikes fear in any man,
He moves to deal justice upon the foe;
The foulest demon is no match for him,
Dispatched to Hell with a terrible blow.

His axe has a ferociously sharp blade
Kissed by the Winter God’s arctic breezes;
It cleaves through the bones with an iceberg’s force,
And whomever it touches, it freezes.

Once petrified in a prison of ice,
His next swing becomes a shattering blow
That scatters icicles across the land;
Small puddles are all that’s left of the foe.

“Hail Conan the Biodegradable!
He leaves no litter from bones of the dead;
No friend of vultures or carrion birds;
Demons now water the landscape instead!”

Seeking Diablo, the lord of all dread,
He roams the world with a mage by his side;
Finding the fray, he leaps to the attack,
His frenzy becoming a killing tide.

Monsters and animals and corrupt men
Become as chaff before his icy blade;
When battle is done, and the puddles dry,
It looks as though no one’s disturbed the glade.

“Hail Conan the Biodegradable!
Ridding the land of all demons he sees;
Inspiring the bards to follow along
To sing of his praises…and plant some trees!”

© 2003 by Robert E. Blackwell

“Diablo” is a registered trademark of Blizzard Entertainment