Legend Lore: The Unborn

Prophesized in ancient age
Foreseen to bring an endless doom
A fatherless child, infernal rage
Born from the childless faceless' womb

Boiling blood and coiling flesh
Breaking bone and bringing death
Beast and man about will thresh
Until the dying man's last breath

Ever hungry, never sated
The Unborn's rage is true
Born by flesh so cursed and hated
A simple spell it would renew

Denied its true and healthy form
The raging mass of flesh goes wild
Spawning forth its limbs, they swarm
The unborn kin, the faceless' child

While it grows it remains unseen
Sending out its limbs to find
Souls and flesh to feed and wean
And strengthen its body and its mind

When it feeds it grows and grows
Thirsting for the blood of her
Who denied the blessed sweet repose
Any foe will its wrath incur

This limb is known as the speaker
Of magics and relics, a skilled seeker
The Unborn's envoy and maker of schemes
Speaks the Unborn's commands and dreams

Weakened by the common fault
That may every throat assault
From within its whitened form
Boiling acid may forward storm

A siphon of magical power pure
But blasted if ended premature
The excess energy of ongoing spells
Psionically upward, the Throat propels