Who am I but mystery, lost beneath the waves of motion. Cast out by a song of venom, rattled by a warriors sword. Horror is me and the unknown is my biography, life is lived by stones and death is a calling. I may be dark but wise above the fields of sorrow, brought in by streets of crimson shades evermore so mysterious. For I am Asmodeus, prince of madness, dark poetry and the unknown writer of horror.
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