Where mountains pierce the storm-filled sky,
Rushoar emerges, with a fearsome cry.
Fur the color of thunderclouds so vast,
A creature of power, built to forever last.
Once protector, valiant and strong,
Guiding herds, where lightning belonged.
But greed arose, and balance went astray,
Twisting purpose, leading creatures astray.
With electric claws and thunderous roar,
It guards its domain, forevermore.
Lightning strikes, echoing its might,
Protecting balance, day and fading night.
Legends speak of power untold,
Secrets whispered, stories yet unfold.
Can life renew, where storms reside?
Or will despair forever preside?
Through valleys etched with lightning’s trace,
Rushoar charges, leaving not a trace.
Hope flickers dim, amidst the rain,
Will harmony return, or fade from sight again?
But deep within, a memory gleams,
Of peaceful storms, bathed in sunlit beams.
Perhaps the beast, with thunderous soul,
Can find redemption, make itself whole.
So let it rage, a cleansing storm,
And from the fury, hope be born.
For Rushoar holds, a hidden key,
To mend the world, and finally, be free.